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Jesus loves me, loves me not

Jesus loves me

Heaven is full of echoes and Hell tastes of smoke and mistakes. Am I in Heaven or Hell? Where are you? Can I be in both with the backdrop endlessly flickering from one to the other through the chapters of my life? The edge of glory will trip me up, no doubt. Heaven is full of echoes from Hell. It is never silent like those chaotic memories you re- member and it is fleeting as the sun sets. Hell tastes of smoke and the mistakes that sent us here and the tastes that keep us here. A choice or a conclusion? Design or amusement? Fun or malignant intention? With an angel on each shoulder I cannot always hear the beat of the drum I march to. The snakes inside us always want the apples and even if we can choose our poison there are only so many ways to die. In Heaven I dream but in Hell I never dream alone. Shared dreams are our collective torture. Collective memories become dreams of victory. It is all so surreal and it cracks as we step on it. Like meringue – sweet, brittle and worthless. The sun burns and glows in Heaven where our glory will never fade (or so they say) but in Hell the floor is alight with our burning memories. We are barefoot in both but it’s a grounding in powdery sand whilst great gulps of air pull us under endlessly. Forever and ever Amen. The sound of the seagulls and the sea keeps us sugar sweet in Heaven but in Hell the silence we yearned for all our lives is not what we yearned for all of our lives. The silence kills is all over again, like the dip of water. It will not stop in the middle of the night that does not stop. In a wordless, timeless tunnel we pray too late. No one is listening to our whispers. The silence does not listen. It echoes back to us in our thoughts in some sort of mystical amplification and we wish to die – we already have. Heaven is one long syrupy afternoon shifting towards a sun that never comes. An endless, moonless day – holidays are good precisely because they end and life is to be lived precisely with the energy that it takes to end it. Heaven never ends so where is my motivation? Hell never ends so how do I escape? Both of them are prisons of my own making. In between countries – over the edge is a flickering between those two lies. I am there somewhere within the distortion. If only I had control of the switch. Jesus hates me.

Jesus hates me

Published by 361one

when I write I am a king. Listen to more at 361 live podcast

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