Mushrooms

What happens when your brain throws coctails at you
Every thing comes bland
Every scenario comes with a bad ending
You just got a bad word for everything
And every one
And there are clouds
That distort colors
And there is rain
You do not like it this time.

Mushrooms
Poetry
Lovers
They all do misdeeds
They fail you this time.

You curse
God
Your head
And stumble as you look around.

Your brain makes love
Throws sperm
It does it with a masochistic style
He likes it
To throw a whip or two
Once in a while.