L.S.D and a few other old friends.

I’ve been here. The acid is still in my head as i type out these words and it feels like something has to be said about what happened while the memory, and more importantly the feeling lasts. I’ve just realized I’ve never written on acid before. I am incredibly sensitive to everything right now, and a little vulnerable. But it feels friendly.

Nothing has been solved. Nothing has been accomplished. But i don’t see why something has to be accomplished in the first place. who came up with that shit?

Everything goes.

Communication is vital. But sometimes much is said even when you’re not speaking.

Funny is good. Funny is awesome. Laugh. Cause it’s funny. (WTF :P)

A person who is a good tripper is the kind of person you want around you.

I need to remember to surround myself with positive things. This is so fucking important and just so obvious why the fuck would i let some dumb, retarded shit into my reality? Need to be careful.

There is an incredible difference between people who want to get better and people who think they are people who should want to get better. The latter are toxic.

I miss my friends.

I can’t think and type. i Can just type. Thinking is a hindrance. it adds impurities.

Breathe. Motherfucker.

Did i tell you am on acid? ­čśŤ

L.S.D didn’t answer the questions. It just showed me there is no one to ask to.

How am i ever going to end this post?

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Giving Up The Empire Of Dirt

Stimulation:

The high.
The pixels.
The change.
The skin.
The ideologies.
The music.
The activities.
Dreams.

Everything fades into nothing leaving me deprived.
Forced to chase new vices, that leave me depraved.

So now we zero the clock.
Now we starve the mind.
Drain the chemicals out.
Take the high road, suffer the emptiness.
Break the cycle to go down a new path.
Fail and hell is You.
Fail and the time loop starts.

Emptiness is hell. But on the other side of emptiness is true emotion.
They fed the infant chemicals till it choked. Then they fed it some more. Watch. Consume. Junkie motherfucker. Blind to the possibilities of redemption.

But a ray slipped through the smog and you shook your fists and wailed and stuck your filthy fingers so deep down your throat you puked your guts out. And now we chase the light. The promise has been made.

Alone.

Sober.

Watchful.

Patient.

Urban Dream Ascension

He looked over the sparkling city skyline and smiled. The night was chilly and his breath mixed with the cigarette smoke left long trails.

He was on the balcony on a skyscraper, high enough to hear nothing of the noises far below, high enough to peacefully meditate on the distant building lights, those dream like apparitions. Lights meant life and life meant stories, and at least a few of them worth listening.

But tonight he was content, tonight he was at peace with not knowing and not wondering.

He observed his mind, waiting to see if it would come up with something to say. Nothing. Nothing at all.

He chugged his drink down, stubbed the cancer stick out and lit another. Still nothing.

Smiling into the night he continued gazing at the lights, glazed eyes reflecting, watching, observing.

Chasing sorrow

Her fingers quivered slightly as she used her other hand to run the shiny blade across her upper arm, she made a near perfect line right next to the older, half healed ones. Her breathing, which had been rugged and uneven when she had first entered the washroom now slowly found it’s original rhythm as the blood flowed down her pale hands. she sighed and leaned back against the toilet seat and closed her eyes. she had a few more minutes before her next class started, which meant she had half that time to cover up the wound with a fresh band-aid from her hand bag. But for now she just felt the numbness race across her hands, the pain was there but it was just a throbbing in the background…it would pass. Till she picked her wounds open again.

He couldn’t have been more then 18, definitely not more then 20. He stumbled across the dark street in the rain, occasionally missing his footing and reaching for the building to his right to help avoid a fall. To an outsider, he was just one more drunk guy trying to get where ever he was trying to get, there sure were a lot of those around. what no one noticed, thanks to the rain, was the tears running down his cheek. He had said nasty things to her and she had returned the favor, words cold as ice cutting through mind and soul was not something he was new to. He turned into a dark ally, started throwing up, lost his already damaged sense of balance came down on all fours in his own vomit, followed by another bout of throw up. Silent till now , it finally took over him as he shook bodily with waves of sorrow washing over him, rain, tears and vomit dripping down his face in the cold December night. No he wasn’t new to this, he had been down this road countless times, and he would probably be here again. And┬ádeep down inside, he didn’t really mind , this was after all, the only time he felt alive.

The trip.

Goa. April 24 2014. Anjuna Beach. 7:30 PM.

30 minutes after drop.

The psytrance music pounded away behind me. The night people were already getting down to it and doing their thing. Their movements fascinated me, I’ve heard of being “lost in the music” but this was redefining. I watched them for a while before walking down to the beach from where me and a friend had got a cottage and sat down. I was waiting for the stars to come out, but I was also waiting for something else. My above mentioned friend was on the “dance floor” and letting it loose. I never saw the appeal in clubs or partying anyway. Something that puts me off when it comes to sweaty, intoxicated bodies tightly packed together. No. i made this trip for one reason : Acid. well basically L.S.D.

1 Hour after drop.

It was kicking in. Was it? Or am I just imagining it? No it can’t be. Hell no, i AM tripping. this isn’t normal. Is it? I feel….light? Elevated. Can’t put my finger on it. but I definitely feel SOMETHING.
I am smoking a joint and my friend is with me. He says he feels it too. I can draw patterns in the air with the burning end of the joint and the designs hung in the air like neon lights. We had walked away from the music and it was full dark now, the music just low enough to sound relaxing and not like my bones were in sync with the bass. I sipped on coconut water. I can’t remember now where we got coconut water.

90 Minutes after drop.

The sky was full of spaceships and gigantic space stations. Yes, i could differentiate. They were at war I think. Multiple ships firing at each other and the missiles or whatever were leaving long beautiful, colorful streaks and exploded as they hit their mark on the enemy ships. The sea was not water but people. Naked people. All sorts of naked people. Young, Old, Men, Women, Children, and they were all rolling over each other and crashing onto the beach. Just like water except they were naked people. The smoke from whatever I was smoking was turning into flowers. I was exhaling flowers, and they would float away into the sky. A bunch of people walked by us and they moved in speed motion. I could barely see them. Just hazy moving figures. I looked at my buddy and he turned to look at me. His eyes, nose and lips started melting like candle wax. I burst into laughter and so did he. And we laughed for what seemed like eternity, clutching at each other, tears running down our eyes. we laughed for a long time.

2 hours after drop.

We stared to walk back to our hotel room to get more pot. I wanted to smoke it in the bong i had bought earlier that day. We had to pass through the hoard of dancing hippies (everyone LOOKED like hippies at least). Their bodies fascinated me. I could barely seE them but when they were dancing it seemed…other worldly. As pretentious as that sounds I can’t think of how else to say it. We made it to our room. my friend got to the pot when he suddenly yelled, jumped back and chucked the pot across the room. “Hey what the fuck man?!”. “Ants bro! The pot’s filled with fucking ants!.” “You’re tripping, you know that right? There’s no fucking ants”. I picked up the pot and sure enough there were thousands of the little bastards all over the pot. “See?! Told you’re stupid ass there’s ants in the fucking pot.” “Dude, there’s no ants OK? It’s in our head man. Think about it. No don’t look closer you imbecile that’s not going to help.Let’s just rip one. here, I’ll go first.”

15 Minutes later.

“Bro?” I was rolling on the floor laughing so hard I thought I was going to cough up my stomach. i actually thought I was going to cough up my stomach. I could feel it slowly loosening itself from the rest of my gut and moving up my food pipe. My friend was trying to pull smoke from an empty bong. the mattress of one of the beds had a deep, black hole in it from where he had put out a cigarette unwittingly. “Bro you gotta fill the bong first”, I manged to gasp at him between bursts of laughter. The look on his face sent me into another fit and i curled up on the floor and tried to keep my stomach inside where it belonged.

we step out of the room, eyes red as hell, looking stupid high. I saw psychedelic patterns on the walls, the floor, and my pants looked like plastic. We moved to the dance floor and all cosmos broke loose.
I danced. Or moved. Whatever. It’s a big deal. I had 2 left feet. Always did. But not then. I danced. And it felt natural. I don’t remember what I did, I just remember doing it and it felt like energy. I felt like I was energy, moving to the music. No body. Just pure energy moving to the beat. I found myself with a girl Once and we danced together. Her hair was snakes. She had dreadlocks and each dread lock was a snake and they wanted to bite me whenever she got too close. I kept an eye on them. ” Do you want to touch it?” she yelled over the music. I laughed and touched her hair. ” It’s lovely.” I yelled back. She laughed. I don’t remember when we drifted away and I never saw her again. A pity. I don’t remember her face, but she sure had pretty hair.

_____ Hours\Minutes after drop.

The concept of time doesn’t exist. We made it up. It just doesn’t make sense, It’s in our head.
“Water.” “Yeah, we’re going just wait”.
I don’t remember how long I danced. I don’t understand what “How long” is. All i know is i am thirsty. very very thirsty. And we didn’t have any. My friend wanted to ride so I got on the back of the scooter we hired. We moved away from the strip and left the music behind us and made our way to the closest shop which was…a km away? couple of km’s? I don’t remember. I do remember seeing ghosts around me. And dark figures standing right behind the street lights where the light doesn’t shine. Naz’gul, I thought.
I gulped down the water. The streets were empty.There weren’t many shops open either. I was beginning to feel paranoid. I kept looking around for cops (not that we were doing anything wrong). we made our way back the beach after that.

Later.

I threw up violently. Fears coming true about my stomach. I was sure. No. Just the beer I drank earlier. And chicken. Is that peas? I don’t remember eating peas. Or anything with peas in it. Great. Now the the vomit is a smiley face. I was on the beach. But where exactly? Can see the trees breathing. Can see the roots in the ground like those moving LED lights, taking in life energy from the ground. More puke. I just puked from my nose. Gross. I am shaking. my friend is a few feet away. He looks scared.Not for me. Something else I think. The shaking gets worse. I look up at the sky and take a deep breath in. relax. Gotta relax. Am sweating.Practically drenched. Why is my friend so silent? Is he alive? i shove him with my leg. He gasps like I startled him and looks at me, eyes big and scared. At least he’s alive. The ground is not dirt. It’s snakes. Millions of them. Not just snakes. Reptiles. Lizards, crocs and comodo dragons. Figures in the dark, walking in OUR direction with purpose. Must run. Must tell my friend. “Dude we gotta go, we’re in trouble. there’s people coming.” He looks at me like I just told him the devil has come for him. Then he got up and ran. Son of a bitch is running in the wrong direction. Towards them. “The other way!” Too late. Can’t hear me. I run after him. Can’t see the figures anymore. Reptiles at my feet. Almost got me. Must keep running. can’t see my friend. Did they get him? Cold fangs on my feet. I yell, jump and stumble. Just the water. I should go back to the cottage. Maybe he’ll be there. But which way? I look around. am alone. all alone. which way? Thirsty. Snakes. Must keep moving. I yell his name, my voice scares me so I stop. Chill. just chill. it’s just a bad trip, relax.
CALL HIM!
That’s right I should just fucking call him. I do. It rings. I can hear the phone somewhere around. He picks up.
“Bro that you on the beach?”
“You fucking son of a cunt where the fuck you at?!”
He comes out of hiding: from behind the wall that separates the beach from the hotel and restaurant strip.
“I thought you were them” he says.
“We’re tripping bad bro, we better get back to the cottage.”
he nods.
“Do you know which way it is?”
He looks in either direction “Umm…”
Fuck.

4:30 am April 24 2014.

There’s a beautiful naked women on the roof of my cottage. Like a painting. Still wet. And she was moving. Slowly. Very sexy. I am calmer now. Finally back in our room after wandering around for…i don’t know how long. But the naked painting woman was helping my case.

earlier that day.
earlier that day.