Notes from the Purge

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Don’t Ask

Chris Youngblood April 26, 2024

What do they want from me?

The vampires who come for the energy to suck me dry,

I’m dried up, fed up.

The ones who come on their own time just to leave for sport,

Implement their one kryptonite through the unnoticed shades,

The blades of truth so deep, mine cut the deepest.

The ones who sell it for entertainment more real than the rest,

At least they don’t throw it up in jest.

Love me or hate me seems to be the norm,

Ever sense I assumed form.

“Well that was just too negative, can’t have that can we?”

Not realizing the beautiful darkness, the twisted fantasy of loving enough to kill.

I’ve been stone before, would have given anything to feel.

No matter how hard I try something I can’t escape,

It’s the price I pay for wearing the cape.

I’m no one’s hero, no one’s savior, was Jesus relived to be crucified?

After all, his friends betrayed him in the end.

Did he really trust them that much? Guess he knew the cock would crow, it always does.

What will be lost is the thought that crosses, who will betray is the worm that tosses,

Through the head.

I’m beyond grateful for where I am now, but one knows when they are crossing into new territory.

Who will be the Judas in this story?

Maybe the comfort is knowing I will be quicker to forgive.

Funny how people tell me “but don’t forget,” as if it’s their story to intervene and it’s usually people who didn’t give a fuck anyway.

If they knew me, they’d know I don’t forget. I don’t harbor but I don’t forget.

A cold harbor that will never sink.

Keeps me sharp like the blade without the chalice.

The paradox of wanting to be better but knowing certain aspects are King.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.

A tiny fragment locked away, kept to oneself. The lock that was always there but has grown tighter with wisdom.

The Wall goes up when it needs be. Clockwork, timing,….. knowing.

Security Detail on a whipped up crowd,

“Only the One and the Many allowed.”

Wishing it wasn’t so but wishing doesn’t mean jack shit.

I am who I am and I didn’t make it this way.

Temet Nosce the double edged sword, the ripped cord.

Came up from the deep blue sea,

After swimming so long, so far.

Came up for breath with a smile and an offering.

To find emptiness has the hook like Jabbar.

Hooked from the sea, caught.

To gut me and throw my remains after feeding.

But I’m not dead, not even bleeding.

It was fun while it lasted.

The masks we wore, the horror of the whore.

Good, now I can walk through the door.

Balls, Keys, Wallet, Lock.