Mother's Day Brunch

As the bad moon kept on rising

Juan and Miles ate eleven g’s of shroom caps.

Without any fear or even a plan

they crossed over the line

that once upon a time

LSD erased.

{a few minutes later there was no way back}

Pushed by their lack of remorse

deep into the lowest frequencies of reality they went.

Down into hell they followed an endless obtuse stair;

mainly they just missed their fond fellow cook,

but the most important thing was

that Miles didn’t have to work brunch that Sunday.

He despised egg cookery that turned nutty,

someone had burnt the clarified butter probably.