I have decided what substance I prefer the most,
What drug I would keep if for nothing else;
The answer so simple it rocked myself:
Music, both melodic and lyrical.

Expression and experience
together as one, impressing
upon us, this cosmic vibration.

Though *** and psychedelics
may tie for a close second

music will always be my drug.

So many posts, so many poets, all with so much to say:
From depression to elation, amusement or anger,
Face happy melancholy on a lonely nostalgia,
For ridiculous notions of false power, ugly truths
and beauty which scours
a battle between angst
and acceptance in their most forlorn hours, spent
at home or away, throughout night or day, so many words
struggling to capture, release or keep at bay
these things we all feel everyday.

Sometimes I just don't know what to say
so I let another's words give my thoughts away:
"I guess I could be pretty ******* about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world.
Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much.
My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst;
And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude
for every single moment of my stupid little life."
That's all I didn't have to say.

I wake up every morning
and the sun is shining
yet my head's heavy
from dreaming,
Groggy from
sleeping;
But this
fades.

"I'm breaking my attachment to physical power and possessions,
because only through destroying myself
can I discover the greater power of my spirit."

"Self-improvement is *******.
Now self-destruction is the answer."

-Tyler Durdan

"The present is gone. Fantasy is a part of reality
and we take the breaks off. We're thinking clearly
yet not thinking at all, and this feels right.
We stop trying to control things,
The warm rush of chemicals through us. Is this brain damage?
We forget all the hurt and pain in life.
We wanna go somewhere else. We're not threatened by people anymore. All our insecurities have evaporated.
We're in the clouds now. Wide open,
We're spacemen, orbiting the earth.
Yeah, the world looks beautiful from here man.
We're nympholeptics, desiring for the unattainable.
We risk sanity for moments of temporary enlightenment.
So many ideas, so little memory. The last thought killed by anticipation of the next.
We embrace an overwhelming feeling of love.
We flow, in unison. We're together.
I wish this was real.
We want a universal level of togetherness, where we're comfortable with everyone.
We're in rhythm. Part of the movement, a movement to escape.
We wave goodbye.
Ultimately, we just want to be happy.
Yeah, yeah!
Hang on,
What the **** was I just talking about?"
*-Jip

Feel that bass-line push
us off of base-line; beauty
and the dynamical sublime.

Raise us up 'til we're amazed,
Praise be The Apotheon
in all its daze.

"Hallelujah, hallelujah
Not here to praise ya
Just here to raise ya
Fill you full of nails"

See the Monday's crucial difference to
today's flaw of apotheosis; we deify
this 'maze' and give ecstasy praise.

Hallelujah, hallelujah!
Let successive beats flow,
Amplify empathy; take it.

"Oh sweet sensation",
"Closer to all your dreams";

"I wish this was real".