I sat with a shroom up my holy behind,
Hoping enlightenment might soon unwind.
With crystals and fungi stuffed in my crack,
I whispered, “O Lord, don’t let me come back.”

The geometry shimmered, my pupils went wide,
As a twelve-faced Archon approached from the side.
It said, “Welcome, oh seeker, to truth’s swirling tide—
You’ve entered the ****** where gods love to hide.”

“Through buttocks and bowel, through laughter and fear,
You’ve bypassed the chakras and slipped into gear.
For mortals forget, in their temples and prayers,
That the throne of the cosmos is tucked downstairs.”

The colors were purple, like grape-wine from space,
And my colon, dear brother, became a pure place.
A hum filled the room—my intestines did sing,
As I whispered, “Oh Christ, I am everything!”

Then Zeus waved hello with a geometrical hand,
He said, “Nice portal, my dude. This trip is unplanned.”
I asked him for wisdom, he said with a grin:
“God enters from front—but escapes through the end.”

So heed this great teaching, ye seekers of lore:
The divine may be love—but it knocks at your back door.
When life feels too heavy, too brutal, too odd,
Just laugh and remember—your *** is with God.