MDMA and LSD were walking down the street
They saw a girl dressed in green
They approched her and asked about her name
She replied saying it was THC
They invited her to come along for the walk
She said yes feeling like she belongs
The three had fallen in love
They would never leave one alone
Since the day MDMA and LSD had met THC
They became inseperable to me
Words Of Harfouchism
everything is anything.
morphing, moving, & merging together.
falling deep into flow.
deep into know.
breathing & bleeding energies & essences,
from every spectrum of the rainbow.
discovering & diving into new, unexplainable realms of creation.
so much to think about.
so much to feel for.
it's easy to get swept up in the magic.
Dmt and lsd are cousins.
Lsd pure drip's to candy my perceptions change so vividly.
Every thang is ultra crisp and brilliant.
Noticing my life is full of great thangs.
Limits scatter as I push threw the curtains.
Going past the realm of occucerences.
Seeing from all points of reference and creating ideas with pure imagination.
It's said life's like a dream we our experience all our extensive outer layers.
Habits are formed with great success.
Yet pull away from the rest and summit your own version and test.
Lsd and dmt mix with grade a pot.
Seeing perception of all life and forms.
Each instance, all life is equally the same.
God is creation, big bang is creation.
Holding your own reconstruction of belife.
So as feet patter on a wooden floor.
Your mind starts wondering what else there is.
Beyond are place in the vast expansion of the black space.
Do you love your life is it flawless.
Or are there blushes and bumps.
The lower back arches
Muscles tangle in with the spine
And intertwining curvature sneaks between vertebras
Creating a vineyard of sweet spirits
That I could drink from the palms of your hands
As though the gentle and rough intentions
Had forever been engraved in a fate
That the universe hadn’t even planned for it
Otherwise the circumstances wouldn’t have been
And so foolish, I looked onward to the lit pavement
Walking between the crowd in hopes that
The grasping of my soul would stop from being tortured
In ways so tender that I wish I could expand in to the millions of atoms I am
Your skin felt like a warm liquid
That washed over your bones structure
Your eyes, those brown eyes
That looked at me with a shine that
I wasn’t sure if everyone else could see
And the light freckles and tinges of skin tone
Pixelated the platform of your body
And I, could look at you forever
Without even thinking twice about tomorrow
I want you to put me on your tongue and let me dissolve into you like the tiny white squares that turn those glossy hazel marbles into black holes and intense stares. I want you to kiss me and see negative colored rulers in the corner of your vision and I want you to have trouble making a decision between kissing me and observing me while I'm sitting on your chest and I want you to laugh like you did with your cherry colored lip curled over your childish grin over and over and over again and I want you to forget the conversation topic every time you close your eyes because the world inside of your mind is filled with blinking images that you can't quite explain aloud so you settle for little talks about Rosa Parks and Indian style kisses and how the ocean is the Earth's thing or the complexity of butterfly brains and whether or not they remember their caterpillar memories (they do). Describe to me the first time you saw your favorite color and what developed the affinity for it: yours, a glacier blue toy that resembled the ocean and mine, a lavender Easter dress that twirled when I spun. Tell me about your school crushes when you were four and what you got your clothespin moved to the sad face for and I'll write it all in ink on my knee caps because "God, we're such writers" and you'll check the clock in the gaps and search for tunes or lighters and I'll want time to slow down because the nights spent with you usually seem as though minutes are just a few seconds shy of sixty, which turns the little hand pretty quickly.
I want hours, weeks, decades, to analyze the freckles on your face or the pace at which you move your tongue and precisely how it tastes.
I want you to tell me that your brother would like me and about the mountains in Tennessee and maybe next time I'll try to stay awake, unless you want to listen to the way I breathe so fully when I dream.
When I close my eyes, I want to be able to see what you see.
I want you to keep burying the numb parts of you into the warm parts of me.