For awhile I blamed my brain, and I tried all manner of things
to adjust its delicate balance of neuroelectrochemical readiness;
But I learned to recognize
less is more. Nevertheless,
My experiences left me with a strange ache in my soul
and a passion that keeps me asking questions

about existence, and whether I will
return to the compounds
I once cherished.
Whether
I am well enough
or simply brave enough.
Whether I will be content to study
the things I love without
holding them in
my skull.
Why should the psychedelic
renaissance be restricted to the sciences,
Why should it be distanced from the humanities?

We need a fair psychology of hallucinogenesis; we deserve
a better philosophy of psychedelia, and of psychoactivity.

Is it too much to ask; does this dream of mine make you laugh?
What about when I write that the downfall of philosophy is
its disdain of poetry, and that the failures of science stem
from its inability to reconcile with the humanities.
Emotion and reason can only listen to each other when
they are on level. Mind is not in the head, the soul is ecological

and humanity is losing touch.