There once was a man who would be
Blind when seeing the sea
Caught in quite the cooky conundrum
He wanders the woods like Paul Bunyan
His glazed eyes lock with a lyrical Lark
So he tip toes over the rocks and falls in the dark.
He stumbles mumbling across the creek
Questioning the quandary of why he’s a freak.
Rough hands come out and damage the trees
Crooked knees rub against thick and black weeds.
Cracked feet climb the vines up the wall
Up, up, up, and over-timber! He falls.
Inside him his skin squirms slimy along
While he tastes the fungi touching his tongue-e
He notices his mind hears pretty, pretty singing
Wondering why such sing-song is appealing.
Trip, trip, tripping, the fungi slides toward his tummy
Now a crawling crawdad-in his mind hears “dummy.”
He continues sliding over stringy vines
His mind insane and high with strife.