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May 25 · 38
True Delusions
Innocuous moments stretch through the night
like unwritten nostalgia
condemned to change forever.
Meaning kills me
but it's the significance I can't deal with.
Feeling somewhat high-strung, I decided to try pagoclone
thinking it might soften things. I assumed was a mere anxiolytic
and ate 10mg on a full stomach
so it was late before it really came on.

A few hours later the early anxiolysis shifted,
I noticed some color enhancement, slight loss of
motor coordination and of interest in complex tasks.
It is less amnesic than zopiclone, even so 5am appeared
seemingly out of nowhere
as did the hallucinations.
This was unexpected
albeit not entirely unwelcome.

At first there were occasional, drifting 2D patterns
which rolled across the surface of things.
These became 3D enhancements, the surface of an object
would bulge, contort, and follow my head-turns
or sway with my disposition. The kitchen chandelier's arms
followed my eyes as they cradled their little light-bulbs,
When I smiled or grimaced they made faces back.

Later I mistook some crawling patterns on my desk
for an insect invasion, but knowing my mind could not be trusted
I made a video to see would it fail to capture my hallucination.
Sure enough, this video reproduced what I saw:
A tide of glitches flowing along the beech veneer,
Sweeping over the grain
like bit-crushed waves along a rotoscoped coast.
Satisfied by my evidence, I decided to deal with it in the morning.

At this point I had recognized a few hallucinations.
I thought it possible this was delusion, but what is remarkable
is how I was unable to see past my empirical conviction
that this was indeed happening; such confusion.

As I lay in bed I saw a gnome (of the garden variety)
and his angel-mate perched on the rail of my curtains.
He smiled menacingly, and held her close as if to dance,
A waltz with the fabric. Eventually I fell asleep

In the morning I watched a video of my desk,
Filmed haphazardly, punctuated by a desperate wince.
Now I ran my hand over it's inanimate surface
and scratched at the grain in disbelief.
There is a vague feeling of dread,
My mind feels slightly undead.
I supposed I must integrate
this brush with unreality.
Delusion, not madness;
Temporal dysfunction.
Interesting, if unintended.
Glad to have sailed through
unharmed, deliriant territory
is among the more treacherous

of places
to wander.

So long,
May 16 · 44
Simmer Up
"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.

"...the good-tempered [hu]man
is not revengeful, but rather
tends to make allowances",
And allows anger to simmer up when needed
rather than when it wants.

Lines 1-3 (and 14-16) from the Nicomachean Ethics (350 BCE) by Aristotle [W.D. Ross translation].
May 13 · 128
Some Something?!
It began with shivering
which ran through me
like a rush of adrenaline.

I resolved to go for a walk
and spent the next hour
trying to discern

my thoughts were
tinged with psychosis.
Luckily I am all-too-familiar
with the shadows of my mind.
It was a panic attack.
Afterwards I went home
to watch Star Wars: Bad Batch.
I'm worried I cannot philosophize
May 3 · 79
Wide Justice
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
before vanishing
Apr 21 · 36
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.
Perhaps this new generation
of arylcyclohexylamines
show some promise.
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
the path I'm on.
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.
Nothing particularly interesting, useful for achieving sleep.
There is definitely potential for hallucinatory imagery
but I found the content quite bland; it is lethargic.
Mar 28 · 49
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.
I will read more
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.
Didn't want to lose, a moment
I wrote, what strange fate cast some satisfaction was real enough.
Feb 23 · 51
Total Duration
I remember when today
was tomorrow's yesterday

and how I felt when I saw
graffiti proclaiming, "baby

it was real
and we were the best.

I watched Girl Interrupted
and felt slightly better about myself

but wondered when I would end up in hospital.
Everything looks perfect in the half-light

if you've got perfect eyesight.
I have such chronopathy

for these moments
that tear at me.

Heaven is dark,
and the dark is warm.

Behold. Much that once was
still is, for one has lived to remember it.
So curious to me, how we travel through time,
That we experience as we do, to remember
such that it is a re-experience. Is it indeed,
In what direction are we facing in such
an instance? Does metaphysics allow
for non-linear progressions of time.
How does the possibility of recurrence
reflect upon thoughts of a Growing Block?
Feb 7 · 114
Where I Shelter
Been real before,
Now we're otherwise
or elsewhere.
Do you remember
all the time we spent
waiting to score?
Evening simmers
so sweet dusk
could hear her.

Yeah we knew what we were,
The world had nothing over us,
With less stress we were better for it.
We breathed in and I could feel how close
we were. It was real
and we were the best,
What was it that left us breathless?
Hell Is Round The Corner - Tricky
Feb 3 · 52
Mindlessness empty me
into the environment.
What is this heaven
where I rest easy?

Unconsciousness dissolve him
into a solution. Were he to bathe
in delta waves then perhaps
we would be cleansed.

Dreamlessness obscure us,
Our mind is hidden
from the 'I'; how
does self cease?

Emergence, order
from chaos, resumption
of the gestalt. Why do I continue
as a process that runs wild when I am lost

to those enthalpic thoughts.
Though part of me remains
connected to the Entheon
as the rest of my being
drifts off


Searching for a quantum of metaphysics
(i.e. what constitutes an act of cognition)
Jan 26 · 98
Drifting Off
on a bed of quantum foam
clothed in pink noise
and enthalpic thoughts
dreaming of An Entheon lost
yet ❡alway remains
unto Ages of Ages.
Jan 7 · 72
Concluding Tau
A long time ago
in a psyché far far away,
The Empatheon was our domain.
We chased it with such passion, determined
to stay up.

Now I revisit the matter of Entactus
and suffer
for it.
Jan 4 · 54
I peered out of earthen eyes,
Before him an open plain spread out.
As he breathed in I recognized that petrichor
we had prayed for and felt this was it.
That moment was like
the wholeness of
ember depth.
Jan 4 · 86
The following sentence is false. The previous sentence is true.
An infinity of eternal resolution.
A condition of this old universe.

I never knew I’d live long enough to make it back
so I’ll thank you for that.
Dec 2020 · 63
Walking home late
from a festive dinner,
I caught a glance inside
some living room window
and saw two women innocently shifting
their couch out into the street.
Dec 2020 · 105
Hindsight's 20/20
The end of the calendar draws near
to close to this bitter-strange year.

March was marked by a quiet,
No parades, drinking or revelry

to mishonor of our country's patron
Saint. Silence gripped the land, I float

though a ghost-town
and feel the kenopsia
of society abandoned.

Spring blew into summer
which passed quickly to
fade in the fall as winter
begs darkness, inevitable.

October was dead, no signs
of life save the reappearance
of some old friends, symptoms
of the muse. The annual festivities

were quite subdued, and it will surely
be a questionable New Year. Luckily
a shooting star crossed my sky as I

cycled home on the estival solstice.
For me that marked the end
of the year two-thousand-and-twenty,
A year so audacious they named it twice;
Dec 2020 · 53
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Dec 2020 · 52
I fear the net is becoming
dystopic in the Huxleyan sense,
Much of it is now ruled by algocracies.

¶rovidence favored Big Tech's undertaking:
They tapped the attention-economy, our drive
to create, consume and pass comment on content;
It is so mercantile.
Dec 2020 · 47
Don Toxótēs
To think of our modern communications,
Those strings of code, packets of data
travel across the globe. So many
transmissions, matters so complex
achieved with such ease, and words
exchanged without a thought for eaves'.

Some messages wander odd paths,
Signed communiques, cyphers
and other cryptic methods
to verify information
and keep secrecy intact.
Lucid whispers
in the static
filter through the dark.
Nov 2020 · 256
Whereto Herethro?
Walking the estate
of my childhood,
Of adolescence.
Nostalgic loneliness.
The awe of discovery,
A life under lamplight.
Listen, naked trees shiver
in the winter chill, touched
by almighty rain-clouds. μ-Ziq plays Goodbye,

Walking the city
I grew up in,
I grow old
here. Belonging;
History. I lost myself
in study, the humanities
which I dabbled in and other
dark arts. Forbidden knowledge
beyond pharmacy. Ineffable wisdom,
At twenty-six
I wonder what the credits will look like
at the end of my life.
Nov 2020 · 72
Early Is The Umbra
I sacrificed my creativity at the alter of some therapy.
I relapsed on existence, tortured by egotism.
I wandered off in a hurricane, chased
by something, it brought me beyond
our breathable atmosphere. I'm alright with it,
This. Whatever I feel; I live.
God does not give me strength but,
Nothing will. Being and darkness envelope
becomes a comfort; safe

I don't need to tell you
how much or how sorry,
Truly, I'm losing it, this, my

passion, my hopes for music
and writing. I am in longing
for the session, in memory;
Fleeting, I don't seem to be here, so I become
so much and way less than who I was back then.
I'd give you my arm, my neck, any body part you'd
accept. Those things just weigh on me.
I wanted to stare down mydriasis,
To bask in that sunlessness which defines an eclipse,
And to that end I succeeded.
Nov 2020 · 77
Loose Notions
How well-equipped our astronauts are,
Such rigorous standards set for them by their governments.
It strikes me there are certain things a psychonaut should be,
Some level of training to make us proficient in these practices.

How to build a program or curriculum,
And how do we assess one's competency
in configuring mind? We can qualify it but
without a quantifiable unit of measurement;
We can only teach through experience.
We must borrow from other disciplines,
Adopting as many methods of description
as are useful. Ultimately our notation will fail
the exploration of inner-space, I think no metric
can adequately represent how we navigate a soul
The territory we meander through is so different
yet we may share an inkling
between people.

There is this feeling
that some experiences
are ineffable. No, I think
it's that they affect our means
of expression. States of mind that
break through self-concept, dissolve
our components, ego, id or otherwise.

We must reconcile postmodern relativism
with the richness of our own subjectivity.
Sometimes I worry it is merely a question of language.
Oct 2020 · 104
I toss and turn, lost,
Holding to darkness
as a comfort. Shut my eyes
as if sleep has me, but I don't rest.

These mornings I am sober but
out of my mind, for

I feel an old craving

to change what I am.
Stumble through,
Hesitate upon
his question.

He quit
Oct 2020 · 66
Cryptic, Reconcile
Sometimes I forget how important it is
to put on some good music
and write. It's like

my guide star's been torn out of the sky,
The path I've been following
all my life, it's dark

and I'm nowhere, but
at least I found a new band I like,
Daughter; my experiences have only made me

wise. Though my life's quiet now there'll be a time
when I'm dead but my light still shines.
I hope one day it'll be my gift

to you, these words
which I never intended another
human would find. Even though I know
your curiosity will draw you to knowledge like
no comparison could.

Life is Strange: Before the Storm.
Oct 2020 · 75
A slow cloud drifts over thought and emotion;
Relief, and even amusement.
I wonder is it conducive to learning?
Counterbalanced minds.
Sep 2020 · 77
I long for your saccades
and their intimacy.
I want to feel fulfilment
in the closeness of your gaze.
Sep 2020 · 78
How long can I stay before I'll never leave.
Graveyard of ambition, town of the lotus eaters,
City of the tribes. A tattoo of its name on my left rib
to the side of my heart. I was alive, once.
Now I'm a human In A Lonely Place,
New Order sharp, old chaos faint.
Sep 2020 · 115
Broke my hand cycling. I fled, away
from something; chasing my psyche.
Felt nothing. Earth-grazer.
Rush of adrenaline. I fall, anger
turned inward does harm unto me;
I see myself spiraling.

They gave me a pair of local anesthetics
for the surgery, not psychoactive (although
the level of physical detachment was curious).
The nerve-block employed lidocaine, bupivacaine,
And the latter was mixed with epinephrine
to increase its duration of action:
This resulted in shivering and anxiety.
I suppose it is the archetypal stimulant.
Sep 2020 · 54
Swooping low the last few days,
I just feel bad all the time.
It's a sway I recognize
from darker times.
I used to think
"these states
will wax and wane...
I didn't realize until later
what waxing and waning implied...

That these feelings
were fixed and constant

and would never end
for the rest of my life".

You learn to live with that
and get to know them better,

These sways. They motion to and fro, forward
and back. Through highs and lows;
Between mania and melancholia
there lies the slack.

I spend so much time
trying to cut myself some of that,
Following strings and chasing threads which
might lead to that. I don't sleep well,

I feel pretty bad, but it's not like I'm looking for a way out.
This is how it is, all you can hope for is to learn from it.
-Lines Six to Thirteen from Rue in Euphoria (US) S1E7.
Aug 2020 · 63
Monday Flames
Aren't we supposed to be in flux; yet our words
are worn as the world, and writing fades
at 232.7778° Celsius.

It seems an Empire has fallen.

Now the struggle for power begins,
The circumstances of their exit is yet
cloaked in mystery, and the fireman's
closing in.
Aug 2020 · 130
Some aesthetic, some anesthetic
were it my life flow, floating
through spheres by which
I conceive of the world,
Each with its gravity
and our lifelines
traced in the minds
of others. I used to live
like I was in an episode of
of Skins. Spirals move in and
out of view while I wonder how
we appear as characters, driven; we
build narratives, constructed of
the essence we perceive in
that scene: knowledge
of the moment as
Aug 2020 · 77
Steady Pace
Thoughts from last month:
Ah, faint caffeine crash
from an afternoon cup of Earl Grey.
My baseline is so fragile.

A night spent assessing low dose 3-**-***
and thoughts regarding kept company.
The darkness which once nurtured
now disturbs this son of Hades.

As I cycled to the Orto Botanico di Padova
I noticed a cornu aspersum on my handlebars
and wondered what business a garden snail has
that it'd travel like that
across the town with me.
Jul 2020 · 84
Hold Fast
I was fragile last weekend,
I witnessed some dark stuff:
Dried blood covered the floor
of every room in his house,
I struggle in this land, powerless.

We feel hurt, suffer pain, do damage unto ourselves, and for what?
Were it etched into us, onto us; visible.
I fear my ability to intervene is limited.
There is misery here, I cannot handle it
as it was once as familiar to me, and loss
seems inevitable.
I would do well to take leave of this environ
before it ensnares another year I cannot spare.
I hear that forgotten calling
my name mispronounced.

I meditate in my poison garden,
Praying for an ounce of clarity
among the many intoxicants;
Spare me the sorcery.
Jul 2020 · 291
Experience In The Universe
Its warmth apparent,
Those chill serotonin kicks
in the absence of close friends
recently seen.
Jul 2020 · 71
I feel so lost
in my empty city
on a Monday night
as cool summer airs touch my brow, anxious habit
leaves my skin, and though I am not whole
I have found it again. I pass through
my old university campus
into millennium park, I listen
to Lake Control and feel this city
run though me, tethered memories
and fragments of my being, scattered
across a world I live in, and these words
I've given are all that remain of my moments,
Time spent about this town, which I share now.
I wanted nothing more
than to escape
into this
I've forgone. A kind of experience
which now escapes me.
Jul 2020 · 201
My heart is elsewhere, imprescient
as this moment slips by;
I no longer feel the thing.
I hear lonely memories of a new past.
Infinity, Crystalised;
I cannot say why you reached to me
in this ancient future.
My head is worn with anachronism
but I sleep to empty it
and search my dreams
for that profound sense of wonder
at our simple universe.
Jul 2020 · 78
Once again, consider taking leave of the earth
albeit with no true intention of going anywhere,
Not a notion aside from wishful hopes, aspiration
for a life
where I can consume drugs, date whomever I want
and deal with falling apart
rather than languishing like unspent fuel.
Jul 2020 · 51
Late Is The Hour
Almost tread on a balled up erinaceus europaeus
as I arrived home. I left a saucer of milk out for it
by way of an apology. The aladdin kept me awake
a few more hours; I would have liked a higher dose.

There's something oddly endearing about erinaceus,
The common hedgehog. My sample of AL-LAD was old
but it seems a fine material, friendlier than traditional acid

albeit less insightful; a question as to the conditions required
in which this conjurer chooses to appear!

REBUS and the Anarchic Brain.
II. F. Psychedelics and Insight.
Jun 2020 · 258
The rain is so frail, beatific
moment, dim precipitate on my bare arms
and wondrous half-light washing across the city sky.

Do I trust myself with CNS depressants, or am I just deterred
by the thought of those more eclectic GABAergic aftereffects.
I'll dabble with the answer, they'd proclaim a world anxiolytic.
What does it mean to wander one's city,
Following paths that appears rewarding?
Where appearance is the very fabric
of our own reward pathways,
With no destiny
what determines aimless wandering?
What does my inclination collapse into the world,
What is it that our will envelopes? Our many drives are bundled
into what appears as an inclined self, and we are carried
along a path, arbitrar(il)y or otherwise,
Only for one drive's will to be usurped
by the sweet vista, or strange nostalgia
which spoke to the whims of another.
Is there a collective unconscious, are there connections
which whisper unto our subordinates?
Something as simple as intuition or god;
Gut feeling, divine touch. Either being immanent enough
to qualify one's environment by.
The way I live, to be forgotten, but I'm still here
living all my low effort heroes.

Sometimes I get low but it's alright,
I have my heroes.

It's OK to let go. Release,

Replant your soul;
Live on
Jun 2020 · 82
Dusk Keyframes
Another summer, lone wanderer
soaring through empty streets;
High on the city's quietness,
I chase the sky's hue: an indigo fade
calls to memory, asks of it to another place.
Cradled by the vibrant melodies
of my Lunatic Harness, I hurtle into the nightscape
and believe no trace.
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