Dionysian daydream

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Bitter fluid flowing down my throat
Itchy, it burns, leaving me on a soft note;
Mind transported by the charm.

Deep in wooded forest where lies the glen,
There I dance as bold as life,
Stepping to the singing fife.

Swimming in a maze of unknown thoughts,
In bliss, I lay down on the moss;
Dull senses whelmed by ecstasy.

I then, satisfied begin to sleep,
Foggy vision in excess.

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