Last weekend feels like a dream, I want this poem to rhyme
But that would not be sufficient it seems.
This is a prose poem in all of its entirety,
I do not know whether I wrote it in a state of intoxication or sobriety.
So here goes nihilism as always
Sometimes I look at myself and see a torn mask on my face.

Last weekend I visited this beautiful hillside in Northern California
Pine, spruce, Cyprus and weed in abundance,
Was I dreaming or was I really there, I can't recall, all I remember is a patch of lush green on my grey lined soul.

I was probably high on shrooms, cause I saw a creature in...