Too Tipsy for a Tuesday

If you could only see me now
deep in my drunken high
you'd lament my innocence
and see what it means to try.

my friend you'd see that I once sailed
to O'ahu, Japan and Taiwan
you'd see I've made the mole hill into
a beautifully watered lawn.

I sought after princesses
and courted a dutchess
who breathed smoke freely
and brown was her buttdress.

And now i sit on my mound of sand
like Ozymendias in my gloriffic land.
My thoughts now betray me
and my body wishes to expand.

The simplest sonnet tingles
the sensual sinew.
and the clattering clock ticks
to only satisfy my youth

my sweet dreams have not made
a full recovery from this weed-
let alone I have a child
to raise a new breed-

who knows of the stupid trials
that I once went through
and I can give back what I stole from the world:
an uninterupted youth.

All classy are the garmants and
the title of the deed
is let yourself remember
to ride off on your steed.

Because forever we are tiring of
this ciclical life we lead.
I think it's time we bid adeu
and I smoke a little more of my weed.

and you of yours
miles away
how quaint
a life
that makes its own way
and replicates another still
far, far away
my heart is racing
just as yours
but on a different way.
and now I'm babbling
so this becomes prose
and I begin to explain the intricacies
that one man thinks are those
that smoke the weed are stupid
because he's seen it all before
how they let themselves get empty
and mop up themselves off the floor.

I tell him silence and the whispers fill the wind
now sleep imortal grasps me and the spirit glows with in.