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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.
We live in a diverse universe,
Far larger than you or I;
Exploring it expands our minds.
Filmore Townsend Feb 2013
questioning the soul, questioning
the mind. why did that girl have
to have so many strokes? how
skew'd is the memory? spirits,
spirits on high for nigh recurrence -
nihil remembrances. mention'd by
name once. something wrong with
the body. disconnecting from on
high, disconnecting in a somewhat
general sense. no straight lines in
nature, no chaos in nature. get away
from the species' mentality. chaos.
c-h-a-o-s. chaos. chaos. species created
word to organize the unorganized.
straight line, polygon, order, chaos. time.
species ingrain'd, call'd instinct. to file,
to follow, to seek originality through
unoriginality. thru the banal. memory
warp'd, once could live. self-destruction
and a thought of living life without
affecting the choices of others. weakness.
chaos. rambling. tryptamine influenced
creation of language. showing teeth,
trying to intimidate. trying to rise, a
Jane of the Jungle form of archetype.
the passionate, caring, forbearing,
ape hunter. and lids sinking, closing off
the soul of influence. struggling thru
connections severed. those released from
******* by soul's recollections. by
metaphysical muscle memory. weeping
chaos, wailing order. finding null purpose
in. in. of all things. all people, all purpose.
knowing the worthlessness of well-chosen
words. and gaining access, and
trying to rise, and thirteen lines to stretch.
thirteen to fill across.
Leaving By June.
The Apotheon
Body-Phenethylamine

Entactus
Motion-Cathinone/Momentum-Amphetamine

The Empathion
Feel-Methylenedioxy

The Psychedelion
Mind-Lysergamide

Absurdia
End-Arylcyclohexylamine/Anachrono-Choline

The Entheon
Dream-Tryptamine
Entheopoiesis recombines, Apotheopraxis dissolves;
In this sapient spectrum determinations are given,
Reflection is drawn from that conscious continuum.
Dear  Jan 2013
Death of a Brother
Dear Jan 2013
Hold on my lover
To the strings that bind me in your heart
I am bleeding raw without cover
Blank eyes
They won't see us wander.
Starving crystalline structures
Hunger for open minds to see them dancing
Tryptamine, entheogenic wonders
Reveal the frailness of being here
What has passed,
Well it's not gone
Just transferred
Where the stars never fall apart
Rounded rhombuses relieve my worry
Help me feel his spirit sustains the death of his body
Hope of Heaven can blind us from the present
Here he is to still be experienced
Overcome by his lost son's loneliness
But in the light of his death
He'll find the love he couldn't clasp in human hands.
So let go now, my father
To your measured idea of the souls embark
It's infinite in its immanence
Guided by what is always seen but never noticed

Rest in peace, my brother.
Zach Sanchez Jul 2013
Hiding the starving poems of my psyche
stuffing them down fragile green necked
aluminum mouths foaming up over
jaded cries for intelligence lingering
and are loathed
personally.

Tasted fire, blue Kool-Aid, tryptamine
in my drink finding a seat while on the bumper
someone hung from a smoking cigarette
gesticulating  in a foreign rhythm
lips sync
out of.

Highway headlight twinkling with
gasoline drive-shaft incandescence
going buzzed backwards sitting
on a bed of thorns; a truck
dreading the pitiful holes
of an untended freeway.

Afterwards
victories to despair
bound to tender purging
supposing red cups
will release us all to
blacked-out porcelain heavens.
Drugs, *****, drunk, puke, party, blurred
softcomponent Sep 2014
i don't spit it down the throat of every
girl who makes me feel less dead.. even
if death inside is a starred little sidenote
in the CIA World Factbook, it's some
-thing sacred in my jeans and undershirt
heart-pang-thump boombox screams for
help. I read deep into the books and so arrange
the angry letters to live again inside the head of
someone else who is 'out-there' in the letter-fed
litterbox of word salad, doused in the vinaigrette
of mossy, ancient, cradle-laden sadness. I wonder
if the world is made of sadness and my pain is just
a girder-- I wonder if the world is made of loss and
my heartache just a brick all sunset-red forever within
the orangey dusks of Eastern London urban suburb
industry-- and yet it couldn't be as loss implies an absence--
yet an absence might be matter in the vein of metaphysics
as metaphysicality.. all of it blaring sirens and quiet nights
alone in frothy evening heat, not enough aesthetic to this
new bedroom, lacking dresser-drawers desktop for god
-sakes you still live outta your suitcase ready to **** yourself
and bring your clothing with you like the pharaohs of Giza--
whoever left you stranded on this planet must've taken one
last glance on backwards to whisper rather sympathetically
'good luck' before the tryptamine caused him or her or 'it' to
fade back into the radiowave of the grave with life so condemned
to speech and distinction, you would never be lost in the fade...
what was there to 'say' anymore, except "hey everyone watch
my scars start to bleed *** they're scars we keep cutting on
sharp little ridges pretending they're gonna get better and
better and better again-- hey everyone pay attention to my
pain *** I'm not waving ******* I'm drowning.. I'm not
waving ******* I'm DROWNING"
softcomponent Feb 2014
there is desperation

in that physical

pain you feel

around your

eyes as you try

not to cry


tryptamine ecstasy

class-warfare, what

haveyou
Relativism does not usually trouble me,
That our knowledge is perspectival
and our morality, cultural;

I do not think this precludes communication,
We can still share in cause and meaning.

Physics and metaphysics can prove
the unity and continua
of matter and energy,
Of mind and body,
Of one and many,
And of opposite
properties, even being
and becoming, essence
and existence.

A relativism of the self
is something entirely else
which I find quite troubling;

Should one's experience change
uncontrollably, and of course
it will. That drastic instance

it diminishes one's choice.
That afternoon I took MPT,
An obscure base tryptamine.

Psychedelic compounds do not reveal truths and such,
They reconfigure mind to make associations potent.
I am concerned the intimate sense qualities of
this mental life are precarious, beckoned
by contextual substrate, they submit
to the sways and throes we feel
as the slings and arrows
find their mark.
Few things are so therapeutic
as discovering new music.

Especially when paired
with 10mg of a rather rare
base tryptamine. I have been
known to enjoy the occasional
obscure psychoactive substance.

Methylisopropyltryptamine
certainly has some merit, MiPT held my curiosity for a number of years but there's only one way to truly know a compound.

I am a proponent of harm reduction
and a research chemical enthusiast,
Ironically enough
the two are not mutually exclusive.
Since 4-**-MiPT and 5-MeO-MiPT have pronounced tactile and stimulant components (and DiPT is particularly aural) I expect MiPT to emphasise the haptic (and aural) over visual or psychic. The difference in pharmacological action between MiPT (and/or DiPT) and that of DMT, DPT or MPT may serve to highlight correlates which could indicate processes responsible for presenting/representing aural and tactile as distinguished from visual or semantic perception.

— The End —