In a world of munchies and sleepy-eyed bliss,
A stoner’s existence comes with a risk.
With visions of grandeur and snacks galore,
I forget what I’m doing, like, “What was I for?”
The couch is my kingdom, my throne of delight,
But the quest for the remote? An epic plight!
Is it under the cushions or lost in the fridge?
Found the pizza—I’ll lay low, sneak a smidge.
When the plan is to chill, but I didn’t recall,
The friend’s birthday party, I forgot through it all.
“Sorry, dude, I spaced!” but they greet me with glee,
While I’m searching for snacks, “What else do I see?”
The brain gets all foggy, like a device on the fritz,
Can’t form a thought; it’s a game of ‘who skips?’
“Did I say something funny?” I’ll ask my best mate,
They’ll chuckle and nod, “You just stared at your plate!”
And then there are times when the thought is clear, oh,
A deep revelation, I’m a genius, you know?
But the pen’s out of reach, and my paper’s too feeble,
My great strokes of wisdom turn to smudges, like scribbles.
But the truth of the matter, as high as I soar,
Being a stoner’s a trip, with laughs evermore.
So here’s to the highs and the lows that we bear,
Just hand me the chips, and I really don’t care!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
