28 (Judas Kiss)

As you stand there explaining your monstrosity,
or cradle yourself in the arms of a betrayer,
waiting for your Judas kiss,
other gears turn, grind, drop into place
Water stolen from the land is blood from the
source, an endless lubricant engineered to
resurrect hatred from
the ashes of hope, rage from desperation,
fear from confidence
Sometimes desperate measures are the only
ones on the menu, and sometimes betrayal
is as cool and refreshing as crystal clear
spring water
Just as you look into the faces of all
your trusted friends, a metamorphosis, beyond
unwelcome, occurs and you find yourself
ambushed, by yourself,
you the original betrayer
The threat was always supposed to be
above, in the room beyond the shadows,
the room that can’t be,
Not here, where cautious allies throw
darts at hidden targets, where friends tell
brutal truths and none, not anymore,
would lie one to the other
And yet, as you start to rage-laugh, to fade,
to fall, you know you shouldn’t have drank
the Kool-Aid, you shouldn’t have been
set on absolution to such
a degree that you believed it could
actually be yours

Poem by Shane Douglas Keene

READ THE SERIAL NOVEL BY JOSH MALERMAN