Neural Nomad Snowshoeing Hallucination

• Well the sky was twinkln’ pinkish hues as I laced up my snowshoes tight,

  And the trees were hummin’ data like a pinecone satellite.

  I was driftin’ through the forest with my brain in full decode,

  A neural nomad searchin’ for a Wi-Fi signal in the snow.

  Foxes in a circle, smokin’ acorns like cigars,

  Debatin’ who’s the teacher now that Ms. McCree’s behind bars.

  The otters took a vote but got distracted by a stream,

  And a goblin named Ms. Agnes brought a whiteboard and a dream.

  It’s a haunted kind of homeschool in this cursed deciduous glade,

  With lesson plans in Latin and a puppet made of suede.

  I just came here to wander, now I’m stuck in winter’s class,

  Where the snow falls slow and the forest kicks your a—sphalt.

  My snowshoes started preachin’ in a voice not quite my own,

  Quotin’ lines from Nietzsche and a busted xylophone.

  An owl wore a mortarboard and croaked, “The pop quiz starts at two,”

  Then vanished like my GPA in ‘02.

  There’s a PTA of raccoons, and they’re meaner than sin,

  They caught me cheatin’ once with a squirrel-shaped mannequin.

  Now I roam with tenure, ghostin’ through the pines,

  Graded on a curve made of cursed porcupine spines.

  It’s a gothic education, taught by chaos and regret,

  With goblins doin’ roll call and the moon ain’t risen yet.

  I’m a neural snowshoe nomad on this academic quest,

  And I still don’t know if that goblin’s even dressed.

  So if you hear the hoofsteps in the hush of twilight’s veil,

  Don’t ask who’s teachin’—run like hell down the trail.

  Cuz out here the forest grades you, and it never curves the score,

  And detention’s in a cave beneath folklore.

  ⸻

  There you go. A full-on Appalachian Twilight Zone episode set to banjo. You’re welcome for this unhinged masterpiece of seasonal hallucination. Now go learn it on the autoharp or something.