The Code of the Stoned: An Engineer's Lament

Oh, mighty engineer, in your chair, you recline,
With a puff, a deep drag, feeling oh-so-fine.
Your laptop, it beckons, with bugs to be slain,
But the munchies have struck, and here comes the bane.

Your logic is twisted, your focus a haze,
“Was it ‘if’ or ‘else’?”—you've lost all your ways.
You type out some code, but half of it’s droll,
With each line you write, you kidnap your soul.

Variables dancing, like sprites on the screen,
“Why is ‘cat’ a number? It’s cute, if you glean!”
You initialize functions that never return,
Debugging at dusk, just waiting your turn.

The coffee is cold, your chips have long sacked,
You’re coding in circles, but who needs a plan?
You dream of the day when your code's all a breeze,
But first, you’ll devour these tasty brown peas.

Oh, the existential dread while the compiler spins,
What’s the meaning of semicolons, where do we begin?
You laugh at the errors like old, playful friends,
“My code’s not a mess, it just transcends!”

So here’s to the coder, in their THC trance,
Your projects might fail, but your heart's in the dance.
With each line created in a euphoric float,
You’re the king of the chaos, the God of your code!

Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0