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I don't think there's something like life after death.
Isn't life and death just a lightswitch? It'll take a little time to install the lightswitch and then your body is here. When you turn on the light your soul is here and when you die the lightswitch goes off. And Only your body is left, the extinguished lightbulb.


It's 2AM, get some sleep.
~ Note to self

If you want to talk about this "theory" or anything else feel free to mail me on hellopoetry.
The headless lady was radiant; her ***** rested on a lightbulb, a silhouette not unlike that of a bee, yet too sturdy to be bothered by the wind. Her arms and head were replaced by a glowing coat hanger, hinting at some tragedy. She must be sought after for all the wrong reasons, by the most depraved of people. How much pain did she have to endure to be so confident in her superficial image? I’d like to see her face one day, when the light shines not on her body, but her mind.

The hand, the crafter, the smith; surely she, too, shares the pain of her image. Oh she is radiant herself, absolutely. I wonder if she feels like the lady of the painting; her body a fluorescent attraction, her head a household tool. I hope she doesn’t feel shallow and ordinary. She is one of the most vibrant people I’ve traded words with. She is a sight to behold when she wields her mind, and with it, pries open the crevice to her soul.
To my dear friend, whose eyes are purely her own.
Elioinai Jan 1
I tend to swallow it whole
and it shatters
like a lightbulb in my throat
the shards drop down to slice my stomach
All I can do is pray for relief
gasping and choking
as I struggle to communicate what happened
the doctor knows it’s only for my mental benefit
to put my thoughts in order
He sees all with X-ray vision
and already has administered the remedy
I found out something very disturbing about loved ones of mine today. I know they are ok now, even if a certain trauma remains unresolved. But the shock and horror wounds me deeply. The effects of sin upon the soul can be so devastating. I was not the abused, and yet I feel so horrible about it. I’m trying to focus on the fact that God is healing my loved ones and that they are really ok right now.
James Jul 29
they only wanted to rule the world
with a cast ironed fist
"one more, one more"
until we inevitably kiss

oh, i'm talking about hiking now
thinking about paints
doing much less
whilst lifting my weight;

"can we talk about Marx yet?"
"sure - i never finished though;
i get bored"
"why do they call you james?"
"ask my dad"
"i'd like that - now?"
"not now"
"how come?"
"i need to do the gardening - the grass is too long"
"have you read Marx yet?"
"yes - nearly;
i'm planning on voting first"
"a light bulb needs changing"
"yeah -
do we have any framed pictures of us yet?"
"no - the lightbulb?"
"yeah - the lightbulb"
"what do we do when finished?"
"nothing - leave. smoke"
"i get you - thank you"

never read Marx. never smoked. paid her. left.
car broke down. called her. stayed. married.
went into the garden.
smoked. read Marx.
bought a lightbulb.
framed pictures. paid her again.
my name is her

— The End —