Jesus: My Friend

I once shared a room for a week with Jesus
He smoked Marlboros and enjoyed beef jerky
People called him Zach
But he was Jesus to me
He heard voices and paced the rug all day
He was ******* the rug
He was ******* me
When we smoked he would pace...
back and forth in the snow making a path,
telling me that he was jesus
and that I had an evil laugh
He once told a girl to stop farting in his pacing space
I thought that was the funniest thing I ever heard
There were times that Jesus made me nervous
He would get an evil look on his face
and then he would smile
and tell me the world was going to end
He talked alot about the world ending
and what needed to be saved
I was on top of that list
I told him I didn't need to be saved
and that I didn't believe in God
It hurt him to know I didn't believe in his father
He was an interesting character
He had a drug problem and was schizophrenic
I have a drug and alcohol problem and I'm crazy
Together, we could save the world
He was a conservative and I, a liberal
Our politics clashed
but we didn't clash
Jesus and i got along just fine
I would tell him he was a fool
for blaming the worlds ills on liberals
He would smile and tell me I was the devil
Together we would laugh
We disagreed on most everything
We disagreed with smiles
One day I left in an ambulance
Jesus paced in his usual spot in the day room
I could see him smiling
As if to say "I told you so"
As if to say "Everything will be okay"
After a few days I was released from the hospital
I often spent time wandering the streets
One day I met a man out for a stroll with a cigarette
It was Jesus
He looked so glad to see me
He said hello and called me Mike
I said Hi and called him Zach
We must have been using code names
His secret was not yet known
As I passed him we both turned around and smiled
We both knew things had changed
We knew we had to go our separate ways
We did, but halfway down the block I turned
to catch one more look at the son of God
I still think of Jesus on a regular basis
I should have had more time for him
But I have a feeling he's doing just fine
And I smile when I think about Jesus,
somewhere out there saving the world

my left wrist is stinging
and the choir's stopped singing
i'm trying my best not to let these scars rise
because all i've got are butcher knives

and it wouldn't be very nice
to make a mess in someone else's kitchen
i don't know where the rags are i can't
clean up the puddles

puddles are pretty pretty
they're pretty good mirrors
they're pretty unclear
(you can't really see)

and the best part is they
show a more distorted
illusion of me
a version i thought i would never be able to see.

Internally corruptive
Mentally destructive
The voices in my head call out for death
"Schizophrenic, physcopath"
Whispers… who
People out or in my subconscious
Deadly sins,
Cant let them in
I should cease to exist.
Slaughter myself

"Oh my"
It's getting really late
I must move fast to meet my mom
Or a fight we will create

I scurry down the sidewalk
To see my friends at the park
Jane, Will, Anne, Sam
And a blue eyed boy named Mark

"Hello" I say out loud
They wave and greet me back
"We missed you"
I join them and drop my backpack

I sit down and talk for hours
I forget about the time
"Where the heck was I going?"
These friends are none of mine

I get up from the swings
I'm confused.. question-mark
I feel like I've done this before
I search for a hidden spark

My mom is standing at the doorway
She is mad I can tell
"We're you talking with Anne."
That name, it rings a bell

"I think so mother, but I don't know,
I think I did.. I guess"
She shakes her head and brings me inside
"Go and get some rest."

I lay down on my mattress
And pull the sheets above my head
I lay there like a zombie
So tired, almost dead

In my dreams I see some things
But not normal like on t.v
Everything is strange
It looks so make believe

Then I realize it's not a dream
This is my real life
My dreams are completely normal
But my life just isn't right

I see things that aren't there
I hear people that can't be seen
Everyone thinks I'm crazy
I know just what they mean

It's hard not to think that
When you can't explain someone else's mind
If they looked inside of mine
"Normal" they would not find

I'm the crazy girl who's stared at
Sitting alone all in the dark
With Jane, Will, Anne, Sam
And a blue eyed boy named Mark

They always look twice
I can hear their rude remarks
As they try to find who I'm talking to
-The little children at the park-