"Those who are not angry
at the things they should be
are thought to be fools";

Yet anger impairs cognition
and blinds us to its exact source.
Is righteous anger always so coarse?

We are blinded by these flashbulb memories
born among a storm of cortisol
and adrenaline.

Those chemicals course through us
as a part of belief
in an effort to elicit change.

Yet
"...the good-tempered [hu]man
is not revengeful, but rather

The ebb and flow
of a mind which knows it is in flux
yet also belongs to that unchanging one
whose breath animates us.

I fall into unconscious shuddering
with desperation and mute wonder
and hidden hopes and silent screams

I recognize what's become fixed within me.
Lost progress, traumatic laughter.
The Apotheon is calling

once again, I'm stone cold
but don't want to be sober. I try so hard
to get over myself, my loneliness.
I got all this poison, and I don't want to share.

I'm losing my time on earth
to the gods of the underworld.
I turn around and see Orpheus
following me

In the evening
we titrated our doses
cautiously insufflating DMXE
until its threshold appeared; old hope,
That one could return
to the m-verse.

We listened to thumping drumcode
and watched a Soviet adaptation
of The Lord of the Rings.
Nonsensical  contexts were generated by
the juxtaposition of techno with our Russian Frodo
and Gandalf the Red.

I consumed no more than 7mg
and enjoyed little over two hours
of mild dissociation, pleasant warmth
and good company before the effects began to gently fade.
It is worthy of further assessment, but carefully
given its current age.

What of reward and belief,
These pathways that call us.
They drag me from this 'verse

even though I feel so bad
sometimes, sometimes
I just want to sleep

'cause I'm tired
and dreams are weird.
They seem beyond me, I feel

without control
but it's alright,
'cause I know

I took 15mg of mirtazapine on Sunday evening out of pure curiosity.

As a result of its histaminergic activity there is sedation
yet I find I am easily surprised, jumpy but tired.
Initial slight sensations of arthralgia.

After a few hours I identify mild eidetic imagery,
Ever-so-slightly persistent with closed eyes.
These visual hallucinations emerge
from imagination, neither delirious nor lucid.
Perhaps they're more like vivid daydreams
and would leave with tolerance.

This faint mode of hallucination led into and out of sleep,
Supplanting hypnogogic and hypnopompic imagery.
What I remembered of dreaming was much the same:
Nonsensical conetent with similar imagery.
Upon waking its effects were still apparent.

Perhaps they no longer excite me as they used to
but I am still fascinated by the compounds.
It is a life-long passion of mine to understand,
And a personal project to document psychoactivity.
I attempt to cultivate some objectivity
towards those molecules, though it may be  unrealistic
to expect this of their processes.

Consciousness is itself a process.

Eyestrain my dull mind
as I wander through the village.
Wandering through memory, listening.

I pause and feel gravity, feeling it
as a loss of control
and for a moment this thrills me
as I lean back
and fall into it; I return home

and fall asleep, to dream
of simple human connection.

I enter a house, brought there by
a friend to make new acquaintances.
The ambience is party-like, lighthearted
but quite excitable. A mash of bootleg pop
pipes out the walls, I recall
elements of Diving Faces by Liquid Child
interspersed with strange rāga leads.
My friend and I relax, lying side-by-side
as if resting. Tentative kiss, and I kiss back
before waking to that

fading sensation. I lay there for a time, hoping
this vivid hypnopompia
would just go on.