Mushroom Spore Sonata

We’re growing tomatoes

out of our ears in the dark,

Barking politely at ghosts in the municipal park.

Purple eyeshadow

melting into tears, We haven't perceived linear time in seven years.

Skechers sandals floating three inches off the floor,

Knocking on walls where there used to be a door.

Drinking iced matcha brewed from pure static electricity,

Embracing our status as an unfixable entity!

Keep it weird, keep it murky,

keep it dripping and strange!

We refuse to evolve,

we refuse to exchange!

With a glitch in our step

and a hum in our bones,

We’re monarchs of all the abandoned zones.

No translation needed, no point of view— Just wonderfully,

impenetrably Tiguidou!

Absolute strangeness. Absolute bizarre sovereignty.

Tara, Captain Quinn, and the wonderfully warped crew.