I have a fascination with the metaphysics, I find it fascinating
to try and fail, time and time again, to comprehend
how thought is there, and
what its substance/energy/entropy is;
If we're just biocomputers that excel
at pattern-recognition and abstract symbolism
then why is it that when the most meaningless of things strike
at me, and their possible significance is occurring, then
the realization of who put the signifier there
follows, the 'pataphysical critique.

Here I am begging another question, the search for meaning
guarantees one of finding, after all; presuming we can know,
The act in-itself is assuming, and what of the result? Even if
what's found is deemed to be nothing one can still consider
it. This epistemological fallacy is premised on a single reality.

Virtuality, surreality and liminality dispute our truth,
Communication, dreams and perception shake us from belief;
Finally, a post-metaphysical joke left us adrift in undefined meaning

It took many years to track down the compound
but I finally acquired it in the spring of '21.

It caused increases in timbral perception and aural acuity.
I could hear marching drums coming from the city center,
From across the lough I could pick out their faint rhythms.

At times things sound as if they've been shifted a 5th down
or have reverberant/echoic tails on them.

My housemate found it hard to understand me
when I neglected to pronounce my consonants
because I was not paying attention to the higher frequencies.
Despite this the cognitive effects are gentle
and unobtrusive (which is relieving
as tryptamines can produce confusion,
in concert with their enhancement and suppression cycles).

Music is listenable at this dose, and sense of rhythm intact;
Would that be the case at higher doses?

During the offset my ears felt warm,
Waves of spontaneous physical sensation washed over them.
This tingling feeling reoccurred a couple times
over the next day, albeit faintly.

Interesting that there would be an aural psychedelic.
Intriguing that other base tryptamines should be inclined
towards other sensory modalities.

DiPT for sound, MET for vision, MiPT for touch;
What sense DMT, DET, and DPT affect is unclear.
As is, the known psychedelics have a broad range
of effects. The particular specializations of the xxTs
are most curious.

Immanence is spirituality derived from reality,
Transcendence is when the spirit moves beyond this reality.
Emancipation is in the life of love, and in the struggle to remain young.

To understand is to become; "We are what we pretend to be,
So we must be careful about what we pretend to be.'

Choose your fate wisely.

The passions that run through my blood
compel me to stay on the wrong side of the sun.

Lonely people are always up
in the middle of the night,
Seeking out the half-light.

Searching eternally, tripping internally,
Nocturnal crusading
in a quest for meaning.

What's it all about;
This endless dreaming?

I love it; existence.
This sensation that I witness.

You see them on dance-floor, moving
like there's nothing else to the world.

The dark rays that encapsulate her
viewfully enumerate
the things that I can't say with words.

Definitive; that's my girl.

Spring to Summer;
Degrees went by
as he remembered
how we lay there
some hazy days
ago, down by the Shire
in a place in the Wesht
near a canal,
A cathedral's
oxygenated copper dome
poking out, rising above
trees taller than streetlamps.

Winter from Fall;
Degrees went by
in memoriam of
a park, occluded by mist
breathed in to form the fog of
Aetherius, patron of our territory.

Other gods fought for these lands
we'd otherwise have forgotten
but for they were sacred

and us, abandoned.


Degrees went by
Degrees of memory/days,
Degrees of amnesia/haze;

On internet frequencies we chant: Hack the planet!
Our code runs deep. We are anonymous,
We are legion. We do not forgive,
We do not forget. Expect us.

We have names, not the ones you assigned us,
Ones we chose, names we earned.
Our handles, a signature.

Faded/wasted,
There's yet enough
petrol left
to score.
Have sought more before
but it hath brought us places
we'll not remember/I'll not return.

I'm glad though, of what I've had; as
the vicissitudes of outrageous fortune
spin the great wheel of Boethius.

No great stories will be written about us
for we are nought but the **** of the earth.

Don't you think it absurd?

Know that we will not be remembered,
Remember that we will not be heard.

This lack of history will destroy our world.

Have you ever wanted to preserve
something so beautiful before?

I spent far too long striving to be ordinary.
Previously, only when nothing mattered
did I feel truly free. What does it mean
to say this? I try to remember not to care
too much but
I must be sure
to love more than enough. Atardecer, amanecer.

Originally coined in response to Phanerothyme  [manifest & spirit],
Psychedelic  [mind-revealing] is etymologically derived from
the Greek psychē and dēloun. Psychedelia is music, culture, or art
based on the experiences produced by psychedelic drugs.
(Cyberdelia is immersion in cyberspace as a psychedelic experience.)

Some peoples feel there is a spiritual dimension to these experiences
and as such have developed a suitable terminology to reflect this view:
Entheogen,  [generating the divine from within]
denotes "a generator of spiritual experience", from
Entheos  [god-within], meaning
full of the god, inspired, possessed.
A spiritual experience is defined by its significance
to the host/subject. Entheogenic has been posited as
an alternate descriptor of "the psychedelic experience"
(in lieu of hallucinogenic) though this is a subjective term.

The Psychedelion is the analytical dimension of the psyche,
The part of the mind through which information is analysed
and thereby assigned meaning which is therefore significant.
Psychedelos is the existential manifestation of said dimension,
It is expressed through the medium of a language.

Absurdus  [out-of-tune] is the nonsensical dimension of the psyche, a part of the mind comprised of uninterpreted data, proportionate to our own limitations rather than lacking in "actual meaning". If a noumenon cannot be processed in The Psychedelion then it is consigned to Absurdia wherein we accept the inability to understand/rationally analyse it at present, given the current context.

Entactus  [touch-within] is the physical dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind through which sensation is perceived and remembered. It is responsible for the conception of our body and it's senses.

An Aeon Dissociative negates Entactus to deduce Absudia.
A Seraphic Deliriant posits Choler to induce Absurdia.

Give it a rest there Sylvia,
I'm out on the borderlands while you're dead.

Break bad
if you dare.

Come down to where bandits rove
and marauders will **** you
or show you the ropes.

If eye go,
You go.

The times we have are good
for there's drink-a-plenty
and shed-parties galore.
Join us out here on the edge,
In wonderland as the world ends.
It could be hell, but it's our hell.

Are ya well yet? Beta-phenethylamine
and the mezheads; they know the score:
It's forty-to-four. Now to get lost
before they find us. I'll be in touch.

Sincerely,
-The Outcast Reprimand.

We've got this worldwide think-tank
where the digital ink's flowing;
They call it the web but it's more like an ocean.

On and on it goes,
All of it flowing,
Out into the world;

I talk too much,
I don't say enough;
Nothing is the answer,
Everything is a question.
Freedom of thought is a lie
if it is unchallenged, freedom
to manifest a thought-pattern
means nothing without a will
to stand against these tides.
Reject that homogeneity
imposed by the socio-
cultural overmind.
We are too easily

led astray by our
persecutors
so we must adhere
to The Way
as supplicants before
hallucination.

Psychonauts,
Dissonauts,
Oneironauts; we are
all of us cognitive dissidents
practicing configurations of consciousness

When I was small
I'd sometimes hear
a roaring in my mind, ex nihilo.

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;

Unto the universe.

When beliefs are all you have
they become of you.

All I have left
is time.

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.

Today was the most soberest day of my life, clearly.

No one can save me from myself,

I dreamed a pair of desert cobras
were wrapped around my torso
running up to my left shoulder.

I felt their movement across me
and their weight, I did not flinch
but staggered, wary. I've been told

there's no malice in me, of this I'm certain.
Why then do I carry these walterinnesia aegyptia as a burden?

In Ancient Greece the toxotai were held in contempt,
They never placed themselves in physical danger
and so were not seen to be courageous. I've
indulged in dissociation, been captive
in a town of "nothing but snakes".
I ask you to blow out the three poisons
of my soul, three unwholesome roots. I ask:

If I inhale the clouds,
Will you exhale for me?

Originally from the Ancient Greek word 'empatheia', derived from "en" & "pathos" ["in" & "suffering or passion"]. Here we find the root of empathy's definition. Empathy is in emotion, feelings evoked from the animal in our psyche, the purported soul. It is sensation born of mirror neurons, not necessary under our control.

The Empathion is the empathetic dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind through which emotions are created and thence expressed.
Empathos is the corporeal manifestation of said dimension, expressed through the medium of a body.

Alexithymos [without-words-for-emotion] is an unaccepted dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind comprised of irreconcilable notions, it is proportionate to our own limitations rather than lacking in "actual compatibility". If a noumenon cannot be processed by The Empathion then it is relegated to Alexithymia wherein we cannot accept the inability to understand/emotionally analyse it at present, given the current pretext.

Alexithymia was constructed from a-lexis & thumos  [without-speech & soul, seat of emotion, feeling and thought]. It is a failure to integrate mirror-neurons into our own gestalt of consciousness, possibly because one does not yet possess the schema required for integration.

The Entheon is the actual dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which is as according to reality (if/when aligned correctly).
The Apotheon is the elevated dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which judges objects and thereby separates them from reality.

The Empatheon is the emotio-judgemental intersection of the psyche, The part of the mind where emotion can be comprehended, reflected and resonated (rather than merely sourced, determined and asserted). As a faculty The Empathion is intersected by both The Entheon and The Apotheon. Things-in-themselves may move through The Empatheon but their movements correspond to a generative dimension which cannot be known by the human psyché.

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

What was it I endured for three tears throughout
these years. I hate being a man, a man so Othered

by virtue of who I am. Took a holiday from reality
sponsored by a thienodiazepine, the rebound anxiety
may have got to me but I wanted to be ou'r it, to

be outta my mind, just like the first time. I felt
like I deserved it because it granted me such relief
and that felt so perfect; to remember I'm just a human

trying to escape her human plans.

Happy Valentine's Day
you lucky *******.
If not for the usual, severe
exhaustion I might have
something to share or
sometime to spare.
Alas, insomnia
suits me better
than dear sleep
that I pray will
take me 'afore I
continue to lose
a few good brain cells,
Or a few more friends.

My world needs dimming,
Turn the lights down low
and stick something on; ****** Bed
Track by The Bluetones. Everyone's
gotta make their mark. Sleep calls to me
and I'm trying to call back
as she strokes
my tired back,
Arching, aching
and shaking with
hysterical, delirious
laughter. Gleaming
needlepoint, sooth me.
*"You're the only friend I need,

Sharing beds like little kids
and laughing 'til our ribs get tough
but that will never be enough".

We are all manipulating this social machine,
I wish more people would dream (like me).

What seems inspiring? Be visionary!
Take leave of these social machinations,
Overthrow the magistracy.

We all have an expiration date
so best get the ball going. Be brave,
Scare us, I want to see heads rolling.

Life can be explained in a two-syllable phonetic:
Be, leave; believe

Up until recently
I craved solitude.

As part of a longstanding personal tradition
I do drugs alone on my birthday.
This year I do flualprazolam and 2C-C.

I turn 27, and it occurs to me
I don't want to spend another birthday
doing drugs on my own.

A switch flipped,
I sought company.

So I found my people, drank two bottles of ***
and did a few bumps of 4Fucking-MilesPerHour
before eventually walking home at 7am on Sunday.

I hear the echoes of a lone house party
spill its tunes upon this cool summer night's aer.

I listen to the soft breeze carry sweet music
drifting across our kenopsic city.

Lounging from my bedroom windowsill,
I imagine what potential
our lives have

and wish for strength to make it real.

on a bed of quantum foam
clothed in pink noise
and enthalpic thoughts
dreaming of An Entheon lost

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

The phrase "a broken home"
attaches much value to
the nuclear family.
As if to ask
whether the people
themselves

aren't fractured
in some way. Were it
intrinsic, we wouldn't last.

The phrase
is indicative
of a shame I'd
reject, but

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
everything
becomes a comfort; safe
here.

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,

A figure from my past
didn't recognize me,
And I didn't say anything.

My time is almost up, I long
to live in the 808 State.
Perhaps someday I will,
Or I may just find Death in Vegas.

What does it mean
to "...remove the issue of skill,
and replace it with the issue of judgement"?
What does it say
when a machine outstrips the human?

I find myself rationalizing
this creature's evolution.
Should I have said something?

Surely, but to what end?
I fear failure, yet I understand
its necessity. The pain of a paradox
so wondrous.

A buried chest full of forgotten anxiety, what a treasure.
As for the map herself, I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.

An infinitesimal, subtle feeling grows
as the beats change. Once again, dance
with some grace. Let the sway show just how
transitions attack and fade. By the stars, what

a heavenly place! I say it and shiver, half-scoffing,
Wholly wondering, whether I should wander onto
another plane. The other half always did reside in Hades.
In the half-light I lied, hear my chthonic falsity and decide.


I am not afraid but, there is so much work to do
and I don't think I can do it without you.

After a long break I feel refreshed,
I had been working such that
my focus was waning.

Semper amicis hora,
I must pray and work
with love, rhythm and change.

Another night, another story,
Another set of moments, spent
in the prime time of our lives.
So why has it been meaningless
and less to me, plain to see in
my more recent writings (dare I
declare them poetries, dare I
pronounce modernity worthy).
It's so unclear to a fool waiting
to fall in love, a fool wondering

will it ever catch up, a fool who stopped
chasing the world, too concerned he was
with this fixation upon our conduits, the singularity of whichever connection we're living through. Each generation
lost to their own wondrous iteration of
this eldritch transhumanity.

I reckon most angry men are just confused boys
in the deep dark depths
of their lonely little hearts.
Who hasn't wished they were dead at times?
"Let's go get ******".

I can't change the past or predict the future,
I can only see the present
as it curves off.

I query the belief
that I do not use drugs
for the traditional reasons.
This belief entails crafting a morality
and there is nothing as perilous; good, bad
and evil. I hold that psychoactive substances are
inanimate. I'm not sure I can distinguish my use from
another, but now I'll write otherwise.
I realized in the shower
my reason for continuing down
this path. Clearly no longer recreational
or spiritual (even though its origins are there).
Neither therapeutic notions nor addictive patterns motivate
my wanderings anymore. No,
My interpretation seeks to push the limits
of what I feel as human.
I am willing to test the conditions
of our humanity.
I sought the threshold
at which we are animal, and
in this willingness to lose my mind
I'd found something
Else;

Psychoactive substances and their properties
have been known to us since the dawn of civilization.

'Hallucination' comes from the Latin
"alucinari" meaning "to wander in the mind".
The origin of a word elucidates its true meaning.

Hallucinogen denotes psychoactive material
which is the cause of prominent changes in
perception, thought and mood.


Psychedelics are 5-HT2A partial agonists
[serotonergic hallucinogens] and are generally
either Phenethylamine, Tryptamine or Lysergamide,
e.g. Mescaline, Psilocybin and Lysergic Acid Diethylamide.
Dissociatives are NMDA antagonists, usually Arylcyclohexylamine
compounds which cause anesthesia, e.g. Ketamine and Phencyclidine.
Deliriants are anticholinergics that consistently cause acute confusion
and are often extremely poisonous e.g. Atropine and Scopolamine.

I felt so much, I
could not control it.
I had to close myself off
from the world of experience,
I had to make it stop, lest hyper-
empathy tear myself apart. I had to

stop. Judge me, please, I only wish I
could be strong enough. For what
it's worth know that I always
ask whether the pain is
worth as much as this
sanity I've bought.

I miss who I was,
I've nearly forgotten;
I'll be happier when I'm lost

in the darkness
and in thought

where I belong.

The misanthroes of mirthful damnation cast
this hedonism in the hopes of escaping,
It's a lonely heaven, lost in feeling,
Thinking without purpose yet meaning.

What am I if not seeking to be labelled, (am I
not? Does it just happen? So) why would I care to imagine
otherwise, that sometimes I feel;
And sometimes it feels too much
so I think less than a human does
(in-trying to "normalize" myself).

The question is one of human connection,
The human condition in all its conviction;
To feel less enables injustice but to think less
leads to ignorance, to feel more brings my mind
down a path of recursion, lo and behold: infinite
regression, insanity and all of my friends are jus'
chillin'. Better not fear them, the only thing to fear
is fear itself, so acquiesce to feeling lest their fear
becomes manifest, keep measure of it
in order to belay irrationalé.
4lpha-Masculine? 0mega keeps watch
for the manipulative 5igma. Relinquishing sanity
for a measure of phobia, just as Empathos does
when she wanders in Absudia.

In exile, 7ired and £rayed, as the 1and-of-Humankind is
ever-longing, tempting and taunting [us to join with them].

I call out our name, drawn to be, ever-longingly.

Lonely people
are always
up late
at night.

All happiness is borrowed.

Tell us about the consequences
of love: innocence, guilt; danger,
Vulnerability; humility, humanity.

Can we ever truly know the reactions
our actions sow? Once I was warm, now
that darkness grows cold. Once I was alone,
Now loneliness is like home. Once I tread upon
fresh snow, now I ask you to forgive us our trespasses.

Forgive me for changing.

I used to be a night owl. For a time I thought I was happy,
Love threw down, engulfed me. I'm not out of it yet, come
drown with me, in happiness and darkness, with no regrets.

I did not forget
nor did I lose myself
in remembering, Hallow's Eve
and all the memories by which we once
swore. It's Autumn, and the trees are wavering
as the sky darkens.

"Here come the rain."
The downpour put out
my foolishness, a fire's longing.


The embers' may be quenched yet
the ashes of nostalgia still yearn,
X marks the spot where love burned.

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

When Europeans came to America
they bought the island of Manhattan
from the Native Americans for tradestuff.

Supposedly the Natives (who did not actually
control the territory) thought this idea, that
one could 'own' land, was ridiculous.

The land does not belong to us,
We belong to the land.
Now Manhattan

is home to some of the highest valued
real-estate in the Western world, and
still it is such a ridiculous notion:

Ownership, valuations, land;
We own nothing except for
our minds (if even them).

Eventually Earth repossesses life.
This is the way it was, has been
and will be for all of time.

Gradually the ground reclaims
itself. Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.

Possession is always (con)temporary,
Just as subject and object are of
the same stuff so too must own-
ership open us up
to the equivalence
underlying a Hegelian dialectic.

The captain was right: control is an illusion.
There is only ever direction, and mind is that
process, which the human body offers up.

We fall prey to subject-object dichotomies
that breed from our own feeble illusions.

I say: praise be to memory.

The inevitable begs that
all information be free.

Time will take us all.

The breeze whispers to us
such human things
as the fresh ae(the)r flows
caressing our skin.
That shiver down her back
was my name in the wind.
Feel it at night
as the street-light spins.
Wander my city
to the ends of the dark,
Seeking so surely that teen-lost spark.

"Things have gotten closer to the sun
And I've done things in small doses
So don't think that I'm pushing you away
When you're the one that I've kept closest"
Look me in the eyes.

"What were the skies like when you were young?"

Went to bed feeling down.
Had a dream
they scanned my brain, doc says
I'm depressed.

I ask,
"Is it that obvious?"
Woke up blue, wondering
when I'll be able to feel love again.

For weeks I've been stuck in this mood,
Wandering with aimless hope
for an uncertain future, longing
to escape the country, listening to

some indie reverbstorm tunes, dreaming
strange nostalgia in my alienated hometown.

Some stuff happened to me this week,
More stuff will happen this weekend.

My newsfeed is full
of festival related statuses,
Proof that I live in a bubble but
it's a wonderful bubble to float away

in; the tribes gather
for Body & Soul.

We will dance and through each body
will shine a soul, every soul will move

to the beat of one body,
To the heartbeat
of our soul.