There once was a man of Pangaea
Who had an unlucky idea:
     He ate a strange shroom
     And then laid in his tomb,
Having died from insane diarrhea.

Fasting first
then ritual
and the
mushroom
burst forth
and spoke
through me
in a voice
saturated
with a little
cosmic giggle.
It's message
short,
"I am the
creature of
the depths
come to say:
Life's a game
death's a game
it's all a game,
so play."

You ask me how I rise
How I continue in the wake of destruction
Persist when death and decay may reign in ash around me
Persevere when the soil is blistered and inflamed
Begin again even when I may be brittle and burned
I rise because I must

He travelled to Canada's west coast
To sit in fields of Mushrooms Magic.
Psychoactive effects created rooms
Filled with white cognitive static.

He returned to his hometown small
In Boreal forests of Ontario's Northland.
Beyond locked doors now unhinged
He sank deeper in grey matter quicksand.

No one quite knew Joshua anymore.
Disturbance eclipsed his passive way.
At the local pub he told Ed and me
He was being followed by the C.I.A.

In one weeks time he picked up a knife
And stabbed his father and mother.
His father lay dead on the kitchen floor
She played dead and tried not to shudder.

Joshua was found just sitting in their car
When police came to the scene of the crime.
In a hospital for over thirty years now
His room has been a static void sealed mind.

A bouquet
For you
Not of flowers
But of shrooms

Mario's favorite
To save the princess
Alice's secret
To defeat the queen

Food
For the gods
And Home
For the Elves

My offer
Of Love
Magical
And eternal

someone told me i fall for kind people because i can't stop letting everyone walk all over me, and at least the kind ones will try not to leave bruises. and i laughed like it was a joke and i was the punchline, but i found another bruise in the mirror last night.

i fell for another kind person, but the problem is that kind people lie. and i never know how to distinguish the black and white from the grey. i'll never know if you like me because you treat everyone like stardust and glass.

but i actually am stardust and glass. i am precious and fragile and everywhere and i need to be held. i want it to be by you. but people that weren't as kind already broke me and now if you touch me the way i want you to you'll cut yourself. and blood doesn't wash out of a doormat.

so i don't initiate conversation. i hope you can't see my broken heart on my sleeve because it has your initials written on it in ink. i haven't decided how close i'll let you look. but maybe one day i'll let you walk all over me and hope that i feel like home.