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.

My hair stands on end
and I tip over, spilling
into the sky and down
into the dirt.
The stage explodes inwards
in colorful bursts,
black and white bears
strumming and growling
in a cymbal crash
a thunder clap
a tap-dancing
madhouse jamboree.
The threatening noise
reverberateraterating
through the hills
and climbs up inside
until I fly out of my body
straight up into the heavens
with a sigh,
a soul release.

Shrooms*

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