Bad Trip Poem by Aram Stefanian

In the john of some sordid club
A guy proposed us sharing hash.
I was smoking the pipe along with Bob
While the guy was counting his cash.
When we left, it started to snow.
The snowflakes looked weird
As if in a freak show.
We ran down the slope,
And I felt like flying,
But later it seemed
As though I was dying.
I could hear tolling
Of a massive bell.
It was hard to endure
That living hell.
I told Bob to hail a cab
To get us right home.
I wanted to toss my lunch
And fall prone.
Back home my throat hurt,
And I turned dry-as-dust.
Thought I could drink
All water in the bathtub.
My own voice sounded
As if soaked in rust.
It was a bad trip,
So I decided to stop
Flubbing the dub.