Cannabis and madness are like father and son
For the mad, instigator of a dark conspiracy.
The only solution is to close one’s eyes
and submit to the destruction of the universe.
As it disappears,
so do conspiracies,
visions of light and dark
and memories of birth.
Higher than high the mad become.
Stoned forever in the haziest void.
Seeing a dark goddess that bothers the crazy
with her amorphous, lover-like embrace.
Madness and weed are like serpent and Self:
a detached penis and completeness.
(But darkly seen through a stupid haze
that sullies the soul with dross.)