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 green approach me, pulled out his stubby finger to shake my hand,
I didn't understand the assignment, all I did was stare and stand.

The mythical phoenix was nearby to be seen,
But it wasn't bright, it was so gleamy, I felt it was emanating warmth, I looked carefully and approached it.

As soon as I did it changed form, became a basilisk with fangs,
There wasn't a proper rhyme scheme but now there will be, alongwith a changed lang.

The basilisk stared at me with its brilliant black eyes,
Looking at it I was startled to bits, that was some harsh lies

Because the basilisk has my face etched upon its person,
It was ridiculing me, his lip curling quite,
I was not sure whether it was there to spit venom or to bite.

Suddenly I woke up in my bed, the clock rang five thirty,
My mundane fucking existence started haunting me again
I sighed to the heavens and went back to sleep again.

© Dhritiman