#apocryphal
Sometimes I hate you all,
The way you done away to me.
How to make a soul crawl,
And only in my eyes to see.
Darkened days upon us,
Forced to question reality.
Fear in which to discuss,
Truth to run away from and flee.
To never tell what said,
Haunting the mind till the day died.
For more what could be bled,
Guilt ridden and fed stone inside.
No, I cannot love some -
A world where I am numb…
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 1:50 AM UTC
jesus and judas kissed in the garden
moments before the world caved in.
the gospel of judas says that
the betrayer was the most loved of all disciples,
that jesus took him aside and
taught him touched him laughed.
there are two sides to canon, history, myth:
someone somewhere at sometime
wanted a better story,
where the betrayer was held close
and favored, forgiven—
but the gospels all end the same.
the son is strung up for someone else's sins
as judas wastes alone in the garden.
intention is a matter of interpretation
but what is silver worth, really?
metaphor disintegrates
and you come to me in my dreams.
to love you after all of this
is apocryphal— tempting yet untrustworthy.
you're not judas,
i'm just a mortal man,
and there is no gnosis, no hidden knowledge,
only apocalyptic revelations now.
the world is irrevocable, just born.
i miss you in the same way
jesus met judas' eyes on the cross.
somewhere in a field of blood
or a forgotten library buried under the earth,
there is a better story.
over time only becoming more unknowable,
hopeful fragments turning to dust
in trembling hands.
Nov 16, 2022
Nov 16, 2022 at 11:48 PM UTC