Recovering Mime
I’ve drubbed my self with plugs of hell
while heaven waits between.
I like the smell of morning bells
while dwelling in my jeans.
The warning knells go on for spells
until I’m feeling clean.
The drugs I felt no longer melt
my mind like butter beans.
If truth be known, it’s overblown
to wallow in just love.
I learned of this when I swallowed bliss
that fell down from above.
Right now I’m open anyhow
to the pushes and the shoves.
The crackling fire of desire
flies like grackles and turtledoves.
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