Mushroom
How I love your name,
creepy tendrils in my brain,
bring delight but also pain.
They wind their way across my back,
now the spores are tightly packed,
show in my eyes like bric-a-brac.
They won't stay in no matter how I try,
my bursting head somehow splits wide,
free at last the mushrooms fly.
Floating on the breeze,
all pain behind.
free at last,
my floating mushroom mind...