You say you love savage me,
But do you?
Or are you in state of false security
Because he hasn’t glared at you?
Savage me is an unimpeded fuse,
A B-2 Spirit on its way to finish what was started.
He is a determination born from ruthlessness and overprotection.
He is the man that does not come out to play
But to war.
Savage me has a hard time
Differentiating tongues from principalities
And actions from powers.
He is not a rage randomly taking lives, but lingchi,
Taking precise cuts at the connections between us.
Dissimilating the heart and ripping it from your grasp.
Deleting every photo, number, profile, and text thread.
He puts a living creature to death meticulously.
Burning the bridge like cannabis.
Getting high of the new existence without you
Until I awake, dazed, but without you.
He is the angel looking down at the rich man in hell.
Every thought to continue helping you
Is stifled by the remembrance that you deserved it.
I told you, he is protective.
Every yearning; every desire to reach out
Covered like there’s a gag over the mouth.
Think about it.
Was not the last thing I said to you, “I love you.
I still care about you.”?
Yet, he walks away, out of your gaze,
Forever to be missed.
You’ll wonder if you ever really did know him
If he found it so easy to leave.
But it was never easy.
Each step felt like the ripping of flesh.
That ingrown nail; that peeling scab.
That shot to the groin you try to walk off.
That intense period you try to live through.
Know, the whole time, I was bleeding for you.
I relented as he snatched the bitter words from my mouth.
Wanting to say, “I love you. I miss you.
Please come back and see me.”
He scraped my tongue of the words
Let me weep bitterly, alone.
Savage me knows exactly which button to push
To have you shaking in anger
Just so he can be justified when you retaliate
And he strikes you down without mercy.
Savage me is a war spilled into neutral territories.
You were just too unfortunate being close by.
As stranger and foe blended, he determined in the heart,
“Anyone can get it.”
You say you love him, but I hate him.
He is the fall from empathy into apathy.
He is the expiration of grace and mercy.
He is the fire burning endlessly.
He truly is the emergence of savagery.
He is wrath incarnate.
Savage me… is really something you don’t want to see.
Because if you see him, it’ll be the last part of me you’ll see.
No more concern for your wellbeing.
You would be dead to me.
We’d hold conversations and all responses would be empty.
He does not do drama as the world does drama.
He is as his Father.
His will is absolute.
Even Christ has a hard time getting through.
He is a heart made purified tungsten.
Only way to break through is a blowtorch no one owns.
You’d meet with him again and think you can still be friends,
Only to discover you’ve reconnected with a manikin.
Those who love savage me have never seen it unleashed.
Leashed, it has been under the scrutiny of Jesus
Being force-fed mercy, grace, patience, and forgiveness.
Yet, the stubbornness is so great
He’d rip out his stomach in order to not digest the lessons.
It seems dramatic but I’ve seen it happen.
Time and time again I’ve been forced to witness.
He’ll interact with you knowing he no longer follows you.
He’ll have an entire conversation with a purposefully unsaved number.
He’ll watch you try to reconcile and never accept the invite.
He’ll shorten his sentences little by little until
He’s done with you.
“I miss you.”
“We should hang out.”
“Remember when we used to-?”
I expose him to warn you.
He’s not as delightful as you think.
He’s not as justified as you believe.
He’s not operating in the spirit of Christianity.
He is a warlord strategizing on your downfall.
He will recreate Chernobyl, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki.
Not even your children’s children will occupy his territory.
He delights in the devouring of your pride,
And sets ablaze the confidence you had in yourself
With a smirk birthed from the pit of hell.
He takes no joy in talking behind your back.
He’d rather see your arrogance humbled in his face.
Joshua standing upon the kings’ throats
Only to hang you as a lesson to the heart.
Don’t fall in love with people like this.
Put your foot on their neck and destroy them.
You should hear him,
Ramming his way to the tip of my tongue.
Tell him about his mom.
Tell her about her man.
Tell them about their god.
Break them into insecurity.
He knocks at the door because you’ve pissed me off.
Never have I ever had so much struggle against the Son.
He orders me not to judge
But he desires me to send you straight to Hell.
He orders me to love my enemies,
But he wants me to stomp your face in.
He desires that I be good to all men and women,
But he wants me to watch the world commit suicide.
Our fights are few but they are gruesome.
My heart weeps for relief,
But he is the army at the king’s door
The live grenade rolling across the floor
The earthquake before the crackling foundation.
Pray that I remain myself.
Pray that I overcome my genocidal desires.
Pray that I can trust God’s vengeance above my own.
Pray that I never have to see my inner rage full grown.
Savage me impresses the weak.
It’s enticing until no child, woman, or living thing is left.
It’s amazing until the one who looked back turned to salt.
It’s something to pray for, until we are caught in its wave.
Savage me is not a necessary evil.
Savage me is a recognition I still need Jesus.