(x = space)

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Affectionately Yours

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All the things

That drive us to aberrant

Distraction, should

We let them:

What if our autonomics

Fail and I must be responsible

For breathing, blinking

The beating of my heart?

You see,

That won’t happen

But we can get into states

From time to time

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As if the wrong angel

On my shoulder

Has been given too much sway

And I have let

The silent one

Stay silent in its wisdom

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The demons call

Now and then

With sugar-words

And honeyed expectation

They must seem irresistible

In certain moments

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But utter no,

Laugh

Move on—there,

You’ve removed the

Curse and thus joined

The anti-damnation league

Whose numbers

Are unknown

Whose fee is nil

But do they shine

In Parousiac moments

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C L Couch

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The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis

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angel in a cemetery, weathered by time but still a powerful image

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

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