Obsidian Crosses

The first lesson I learned from being around those damn disciples was that they were a bunch of drunks who liked to party constantly. Jesus was always drinking win and being merry. It was like being around around a bunch of Billie Joe's, except with the random violence and bouts of sobbing. They got me drunk a lot too, which caused me to do a lot of stupid things.

The pinnacle was when I was sitting next to Jesus, eating our daily motherfucking bread. He was laughing with his disciples, because Peter tripped. I laughed too. Jesus was looking mighty fine to me at that moment, minus the beard. Maybe it was the sexy hair or pretty blue eyes, but I couldn't keep my mind off of him. "I want to devour your body and drink your blood. Like, for real, y'know?" I purred huskily, and then stole a piece of bread from him and stuffed it into my mouth. I grabbed his goblet and downed it. Jesus looked at me intensely for a moment.

"I'mma pretend that this entire inventory of wine is your blood and down it like shots at a bar. I want your blood coursing through my veins since it's sooo pretty." I slurred and proceeded to greedily drink all the wine. No one did anything to stop me. In fact, it looked as if the disciples had mysteriously disappeared. I didn't mind.

"See, now, I'm drunk of your blood! It's your fault I'm this way... You got me sooo intoxicated. I wanna cast out demons in your name, yo. I wanna heal the sick with your magic, yo. I wanna see what you see." I slurred. He said nothing. "Oh, don't make me, beg, J-Christ..." And then I planted a fat one on his soft lips. I climbed into his lap and snuggled into his chest. I played with his pretty, pretty hair.

"You have this effect, you know, that makes people wanna jump off cliffs for you. You don't know this now, but after they nail you to that stupid cross, people jump at the chance to emulate you. They want your anguish, your wounds, your thorny crown... In fact, if I remember correctly, you will encourage your saints in their glorious masochism. 'Suffer with me, in union and I'll give all of my heart.' You will say." I whispered into his ear. "You know what I think? I think you'll lose your mind after you've been tortured. Who wouldn't? After all, you're a victim of an awful destiny...." I continued to whisper. I wasn't doing this out of lust, but out of the desire for the stupid emotional connection.

Something to be close to, since Billie Joe was gone. I pressed myself closer to Jesus, so that I could feel the beating of his heart. "It's your own fault, you know. I never wanted something as much as you, but I ask you... Where were you? It's your own fault you're mocked. I can't take you seriously because you're never there. Sure, sometimes you're poor Christians get an inkling of your presence, but you can hardly call that a personal relationship." I wrapped my arms tighter around him, breathing him in deeply. He felt so nice in my arms. Like Billie Joe. God, I miss Billie Joe. I caressed his cheek "Oh, make me like one of your saints... So I can feel nothing but you. You've put this fire into my heart, so now get rid of it. Let your rain fall on the dry desert of my soul. All you have to do is speak and my heart is reduced to ashes. Reduce me to nothing. Make me like your St. Gemma... I want to be locked inside your cruel, sorrowful heart for eternity. Crucify me,so I can be just like you." I pleaded, a bittersweet pain swelling in my heart.

Still, my savior remained silent, just like always. His silence was so loud that it ripped my mind to shreds. The constant pleas of unrequited love danced inside my heart. Billie Joe...I miss you. Maybe I could make an exception to the whole no hetero rule... I wanted to tear my heart from my chest and hold it out to Jesus. I wanted to beg him to fix it.

Then, I realized, it was Billie Joe I was longing for, not Jesus. Was I...in love with Billie Joe? No, biology didn't work that way... Suddenly, the walls dissipated and I was standing in a wasteland full of fallen soldiers, fog and patches of fire. I stared back at Jesus, except he had turned to stone. Forever silent. I was alone, once again. Wandering through the wasteland, I found various people from my life, but they had been crucified. Pandora, Gerard Way, Tre.... Even Mike. Most of them were gray corpses, but Mike was still alive, emaciated. He looked at me with a deep sadness in his eyes. I couldn't find Billie Joe though, no matter where I looked.

Passing by a small oasis, I got a glimpse of my reflection. What I saw horrified me. Although I was obviously still alive and had a normal body, the reflection portrayed me as a skeleton. Dry bones...

And then I saw the most horrible sight in front of me. In a loosely formed circle were dozens of skeletons dancing erratically. And in the middle was Jesus himself, wearing a blood-soaked robe. He saw me, the group ceased dancing and dragged me over to him. I was extremely frightened. "Only Jesus can make your dry bones dance..." One of the other skeletons screamed with a hollow voice. Pure humiliation, shame, sadness, veiled hatred, degradation, neglect and many other emotions echoed off of the frame of Jesus. His eyes looked vacant, as if he had been tortured out of his mind. Poor, defiled messiah. If the prophecies were true, then it's a fucked up universe we live in. "Behold, the blood I have shed for you..." Jesus stated. "Seeing the pain of Sin itself thrust upon my shoulders eternally, how could you deny me compassion?"

Well, I could deny anyone compassion because I am the most important person in America. "That's your problem, not mine." I retorted defiantly.
"It's your fault you took on the so-called 'sins' of the world. You're eternally impure, since you exist out of time. You're eternally nailed to that cross of yours. You put yourself there, humanity had nothing to do with this." I continued to sneer. It was true. A part of me held remorse for him since he was nothing more than a human sacrifice.

But what could I do? His father was obviously an asshole.

Jesus took me by the arm and led me to an oasis filled with blood. His blood, I presumed. It was sickening, I almost vomited. He grasped my shoulders and harshly pushed me under. Panic surged in my veins, as when I looked at my arms under water, they were skeletal. No longer living. And then I was swiftly pulled up from the depths. "Only I can breathe life into your dry bones." Jesus whispered, while caressing my cheek bones.

Darkness faded away into indirect sunlight, which seared my eyes. And ever so slowly, the remnants of my dreams faded from my mind