My vocabulary did not leave me,
I could write exquisitely,
  from transportive imagery,
to subtle allegory's
but when he left
I lost the words
I lost my song
I lost myself
so I take this h̶i̶a̶t̶u̶s̶
to learn to be free
to learn to be me
once more
I choose to live

I heard it from a good source that there ARE toilets in heaven
they are  called thrones and you must be pure to sit on one
When you do your BM it quickly turns gold, like the sun
aromatizing the sky with scent of roses at the count of seven

I heard it from a good source that there are chutes in heaven
aluminum coated tubes that deliver your innards to earth in a jiffy
you'll feel so Holy you'll want to hurry up and take a sniffy
before it all goes away, hug it,  and then count to seven

I heard it from a good source, the Angel in charge of pollution
that when Satan imposters arrive they are poked with a pin  
then as the dung falls out, it gets  neutralized with oil infusion
and sent back to that greasy devil who so loves sin  

So, if you spot a villain from hell better count until eleven
then flush twice and it will be eliminated from heaven
I heard it from a good source that Angels are savvy and smart
you can't get away with ** , for they got it down to an art.