In a cloud of smoke, our minds take flight,
With THC waltzing, we craft through the night.
My buddy’s rhymes turn to word salad delight,
“Is that a metaphor or just my appetite?”
We join forces, scribbling on crumpled old sheets,
Each line a treasure, or just munchie repeats.
“The moon's made of cheese—I’ll take cheddar, please!”
While he laughs so hard, a snort-shake he meets.
A sonnet on tacos rolls off with a zing,
Though my sonnet’s a mess, it’s a ‘thing’ of a thing.
“Let’s rhyme ‘bong’ with ‘song,’ oh what tales we’ll weave,”
But oops, I forgot, what was I trying to achieve?
With each passing puff, our brilliance ignites,
Words tumble and stumble in whimsical flights.
“Are we poets or jesters?” we ponder and muse,
Spinning plots of kites made of nachos and booze.
But alas, time runs out—and so do our snacks,
We declare it a truce, now our brains feel like flacks.
In the haze of our laughter, one thing’s for sure:
Next time we’ll stick to the pizza and pure!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
