Nazerethian Empath

I’ve been thinkin.

what if
Jesus is so, Like, seemingly
to move emotionally from
to love
it’s almost like
it’s looks on the outside
like he’s unmoved
or something.

but maybe

he’s not.


he’s just like us
100% human – same wiring.
just – a shit-ton faster cpu on the headspace.
Like, infinity speed.
but, nonetheless
goes through the process
all must, all certifiably

oh yes –
the same
fucking one

And Experiences all of it.

The “fuck that – won’t do that”’s
and “wont go there – wont show there”’s
and “find out the hard way”’s
and “that prick up the block”’s

The fun zone of falling
that fall you called flying
For a while, even. Still knowing
theres pavement – not grass.

The “gutted-mate; wrenching”’s
the “glenched from the flinching”’s
the “don’t watch, hun”s and “Going”’s
leaping through windows like flames

all for what
you craved

As you wish

The downward slow spiral
the ride on the Nile
the thing you told yourself “dancing
was first meant to be, you see…”

With burn in your knowing,
warm coal ever glowing
but in times now far fewer –
ask Everest what kills.

the sinking to frozen
Thick bones jolting open
The crack of the night whip,
The kiss of her death.

The terror of night fall,
The “anyone?!”…. “None -all.”’s
the screeching, the halting of the
echoing call

as you wish

The halting of the haunted
no voices in vaults and
no sound of the rainfall
on patio’s play

the slow sweeping
through grieving
in search of
a sound

the silence
now screaming
the leaving
the cleaving
the “Nah” “NO- not going”’s
and “Not this fucking show.”’s

as you wished.
your “peace”
on personal platter,
forever amen.

the ceasing of striving
the fallout from feeling,
cocooned, yesssss
but shit shit – not sleeping
The wake of with no breathing’s
Nirvana’s best choke


the warm breath of it

The deadness to living
the “gripped”
but still slipping
the equipment and “keep-going”’s
fold heavy eyelids with their

can feel.

He felt that

Oh let the Ears…

The climb and the clawing
to conquering heights
where sun fullmoon rising
is “Rise up now, O thunder;
Cease lightning now, Dawn dear;
let’s feel the boom boom
the dance we used to know.”

he knew it too

The melting of forest
the poor-out of pourest
most fabricked ‘cadabrics
had on hand at the time

The “yes…YES!it’s feeling!
Oh; FEELING! My! I found out
your what your feeling
feel like!” again!”’s
before you seeing the
sign on this ride.
They’re children,
for Christ’s sake.

The rush of the rivers
where weights on “dem sinners”
roll down onto shoulders
and push down all the logs

The numbness now going
from clacker of blacker
From glitter to bitter
from golden to gone

And feel the weight
of searing kiss
“as you wish…”

The “yes – YES now breathing”
the gushing of gulping
the “wokened through woeing”
you – some know – feel again.

The silence, once searing,
nearing now unto clearing
of clatter, and clutterish
clunks of tree grime.

the sweet shushing of boulders
or shoulders and “colder”’s
now strewn far from lane

the moonrise
at full dawn
as if for the first time
It lights up the fires in your
dilated eyes.


What if
he really is like us
but just
processes it
like a fucking quantum Ninja?

And damn – that brings up another question:

could the frozen corpses on Mount Everest Just will themselves to now give a shit
about all the oxygen walking by? Even if they wanted to?

Could they ever want to?

Can they even want at all,
if incapable of carrying
that great human fire?

© Charlie Young, 2021.

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