My map seemed bigger when I was young.
Among many things from my youth.
How often did I hung from your tongue?
Believing words to be gospel truth.
I was, as you say, uncouth in sooth.

My map seems smaller now.
The edges closing in on me now.
Black lines crisscrossing me now.
Don't know what to do now.

My map is gone.
And I'm to afraid to move.
I could step on a percussion cap,
gain a concussion or worse.
The unknown is overgrown with death caps
beneath my feet.

My map is gone and I do bemoan it.

I remember
The mushrooms
& How much
I loved your face
The hollow glow
Of a black lit room
& the way
That they made
    You taste

I'm just a pool table floating through the cosmos,
a snail racing in the indie 500.
I'm a mess, ******* on dirt, lying in a basement,
the Click! Now that I have mastered the click I can free my mind of all misconceptions.

I'm a grubby snail person.
Dos Bros Tacos,
served with a hard shell.
I'm a cigarette, trying to hold water in my mouth, and you're a jar, trying to make me spit it out.

I'm a vegan, with primordial urges,
a user, with blood rush surges.

I'm matter, quickly vibrating,
an organic compound, slowly decaying.

Oh I need
To get some rest
But I won't
I'll just keep feeling
For now

Oh I need
To drink some fluids
And not the first thing that I place
into my hand

Sing
Me to sleep
I smell a fire
And I hear laughter
And I see black

There’s a favorite culinary dish in town;
it’s known as the synapse shish kebab.
It’s high in protein as well as fat, and it comes
with a garlic-infused broccoli rabe,
available with a choice of couscous or rice.
The palate will most likely be enticed, just like
another common John who swears to us that he
again has done absolutely nothing wrong.
It pairs nicely with an eighties chenin blanc,
gray matter that’s grilled to sheer perfection,
smoked all day, and is guaranteed satisfaction,
seemingly like an old, rambling rolling stone.
The lights are on—but nobody’s buying homes.
An opera singer that is deaf to certain tones,
this is definitely not regal crumpets and tea—
“heart-healthy nutrition,” all our medics agree.
There’s a new critically acclaimed dish around;
it’s the slow-roasted synapse shish kebab,
moderately priced, and portions are family style—
passed-down secret recipes from west of the Nile,
and also numbers that won’t make your wallet sob
like a big, bad, dark, overly loaded cloud.
Give it a try, and then shout it out loud:
synapse shish kebab!

Shrooms*

Stems & caps divided in 8ths. Handful taken, pupils dilate; things get smaller others larger, pictures dance; your in a dream with open eyes

I'll never forget
my first one.

The tree was
aglow;
branches
blazing
with enormous,
yellow and orange,
halcyon sunflowers.

A glorious heat
pulsated
up my back,
their magnificence
radiating
through all
my senses.

My eyes:
wide,
taking-in
every iota
of this visual
majesty.

Transfixed,
in a state of
awe,
my photographic
memory
came into
play.
Snapshots
of
those giant suns
forever imprinted;
negatives pressed,
into my mind.

A night to remember;
when halcyon sunflowers
danced
on the limbs
of trees and
the branches
of my mind.

there's nothing a clock can tell you that you don't already know. but me? i can tell you anything.

just ask.

there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to see the teeth you have on the outside. those ones that make others hurt on the inside?

let's just go back to that reality we agreed on as a species, ok? maybe then we'd be able to move along...

...we could, but someone always gets hurt.

put those teeth away.

and you? you think that solving a problem will make things better?

you're forgetting someone.
you're forgetting something.

you don't have all the answers, you just make **** up you ******* liar.

but it's not lying to you, is it? no object is lying to you?
but it's not lying to you, is it? you don't consider this a lie?

it's OK, because you convinced yourself of your lie. you made it true and shared the core "knowledge" so others believed you. that's a lie.