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#psychedelics
There once was from Missississippi A fragrant original hippie Who lived in a van Like a Spam in a can With substances potently trippy.
0
Dec 27, 2025
Dec 27, 2025 at 5:09 AM UTC
Spam
With embered wings, I pierce the blackest night, A solar mass morphing into a black hole. Each atom in my blood prepares to ignite, Reflecting the true divine shape of my soul. In the corridors of my own thought, the senses drown. The mind painting prisms bleeding photonic rain. No boundary here to hold me. In moments, I'm crowned. In this kingdom of chaos, sculpting solace from pain. I stand before the mirror of my own trembling soul. A sovereign spark lives, who dares to hope it can heal. A voice screams, that " One who has shattered his mold, Transcends the one; fragments of being, each their own whole." Pulses turn to diamonds, forming as the words on my tongue. Minutes stretch — now endless lifetimes yet to be discovered. I taste each shard of feeling that my heart has overcome. My sorrow and my joy open, remaining uncovered. My dreams, my faulted mind, like ones we called under-wrought. Their eyes, constellations, like the ones we used to trust. Chemicals react, dispersing waves, like songs we forgot. Solitude and isolation bleed with each melodic gust. And in the hush of afterglow, I wield my clean knife, Open up my wounds till they reveal my true hidden name. And from this crucible of pain, is born a new life. My infinite flame burns as both the wild and the tame. Following voices of shadows, divine potential’s own choir. Their hymns — the portal to my soul yet to be embraced. Chains bind me to perceptions, but for now, I'm more like fire. Forging quantum bound waves, binding purpose to my fate.
0
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
The Psychonaut [Addiction in Quantum Perception]
With embered wings, I pierce the blackest night, A solar mass morphing into a black hole. Each atom in my blood prepares to ignite, Reflecting the true divine shape of my soul. In the corridors of my own thought, the senses drown. The mind painting prisms bleeding photonic rain. No boundary here to hold me. In moments, I'm crowned. In this kingdom of chaos, sculpting solace from pain. I stand before the mirror of my own trembling soul. A sovereign spark lives, who dares to hope it can heal. A voice screams, that " One who has shattered his mold, Transcends the one; fragments of being, each their own whole." Pulses turn to diamonds, forming as the words on my tongue. Minutes stretch — now endless lifetimes yet to be discovered. I taste each shard of feeling that my heart has overcome. My sorrow and my joy open, remaining uncovered. My dreams, my faulted mind, like ones we called under-wrought. Their eyes, constellations, like the ones we used to trust. Chemicals react, dispersing waves, like songs we forgot. Solitude and isolation bleed with each melodic gust. And in the hush of afterglow, I wield my clean knife, Open up my wounds till they reveal my true hidden name. And from this crucible of pain, is born a new life. My infinite flame burns as both the wild and the tame. Following voices of shadows, divine potential’s own choir. Their hymns — the portal to my soul yet to be embraced. Chains bind me to perceptions, but for now, I'm more like fire. Forging quantum bound waves, binding purpose to my fate.
Continue reading...
28
Kaleidoscope thoughts they reflect and multiply, bright and distorted
0
Aug 30, 2024
Aug 30, 2024 at 1:46 AM UTC
Kaleidoscope Thoughts
one day i took lsd my famished soul drank in all it could see i sought answers, maybe god but horror upon horror was all that i got i woke up to the realization that i was responsible for everything bad guilt and pain and fear consumed me beaten down by my ego's contumely the mind is truly a wicked place it can twist your world, contort your face staring down the devil, the reflection in his eyes gives away the mirror upon which his visage relies t'was myself i feared the most the ephemeral glimpse of a lurking ghost the screams from hell echoing near but they existed nowhere beyond my ear
0
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 3:20 AM UTC
lucy / death loops
The room buzzes around me as I sit and stare into the wall stretching into eternity before me. The flesh mannequins grin they're crooked and deceitful smiles, and speak in encoded tongues. I read the lines between them and their words, Slicing context from the arteries like my box cutter draining my poisoned blood. The voice whispers for me to leave them to their own repetitive stories And to isolate myself from the prying eyes of God. As I close my blind eye, and rip open my third one, The brain fires begin.
0
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
14 senses
Cosmic projections underlying in spaces as warm sunburnt bodies move together across the floor purple lights in neon glow attached to the ceiling, mind spinning with the fluorescence. And youth- your mind is spinning with how young you are only seventeen you carry the burden in your stomach the sadness on your shoulder. You are much too young to have abundant regrets to be living yet dead in a bitter grave. Wrong choices overlap each other as the grave gets deeper- I know that sometimes it feels hopeless. Banter with old friends about the aliens and rehab centers, the girl who taught you four square teaching you how to torch the end of a crack pipe. Cycles of the same tornadoes, dreams of constant death,you’ve seen your best friends dead body more times than you will admit. Yet they’ve never imagined yours, or imagined you, or cared. The rose colored glasses are ripped from your face given to the other unsuspecting girl who will walk the same journey I did with him. One-sided friendships get lonely lovers are no longer loving and the pino has run out. The purple lights manifest into messages coming across the lifeline simulation- Give up those who have fallen silent, your mission is not with them. The mission is uncertain get a man to prison to watch a wild orca have a family but the process is daily. My mission right now is to live freely let my hair grow and stick my head out the window singing Janis Joplin tunes on the 105.5 The aliens come through once again to extend long hands and acid tabs offering insight into treasures unknown. Time capsules I have yet to bury. The great thing about cycles is you can stop them.
0
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 1:56 PM UTC
Untitled #4
Cosmic projections underlying in spaces as warm sunburnt bodies move together across the floor purple lights in neon glow attached to the ceiling, mind spinning with the fluorescence. And youth- your mind is spinning with how young you are only seventeen you carry the burden in your stomach the sadness on your shoulder. You are much too young to have abundant regrets to be living yet dead in a bitter grave. Wrong choices overlap each other as the grave gets deeper- I know that sometimes it feels hopeless. Banter with old friends about the aliens and rehab centers, the girl who taught you four square teaching you how to torch the end of a crack pipe. Cycles of the same tornadoes, dreams of constant death,you’ve seen your best friends dead body more times than you will admit. Yet they’ve never imagined yours, or imagined you, or cared. The rose colored glasses are ripped from your face given to the other unsuspecting girl who will walk the same journey I did with him. One-sided friendships get lonely lovers are no longer loving and the pino has run out. The purple lights manifest into messages coming across the lifeline simulation- Give up those who have fallen silent, your mission is not with them. The mission is uncertain get a man to prison to watch a wild orca have a family but the process is daily. My mission right now is to live freely let my hair grow and stick my head out the window singing Janis Joplin tunes on the 105.5 The aliens come through once again to extend long hands and acid tabs offering insight into treasures unknown. Time capsules I have yet to bury. The great thing about cycles is you can stop them.
Continue reading...
26
I unlocked the door to the other world I swallowed the key for a few hours then I projected it back up into my hand Back into the muted land I miss all the colors and all the sounds Everything was better So much more clearer and the world felt less round The trees were glowing with breathtaking sound It was still so scary and eerie and made me feel dreary but not as dreary as here I need to find the key again The key to my sanity The key to my invisibility The key to my mind where I could see all the stars align Everything was melting and flying My mind was at peace for such a short time I do not want to be HERE I would rather die than to not live in that sound mind My key... I will find the.
0
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC
The Real World
She stands in front of me holding her microphone at my lips, cameras flash around us. “Congratulations on your book.” I wrote a book. I’ve done something with my life and that makes me GOOD. smile for the camera, million dollar grins taste like bile. Thank you, thank you all! “What inspired you to write this” I don’t remember what book she’s talking about, incarnadine, middle of mars, buoyant, the harry potter fanfiction in my google docs. “What are you afraid of?” Snakes. “Why won’t you tell us what you’re afraid of?” SNAKES “What scares you the most?” The gun shoots into the back of her head, her mouth drips blood onto my dress. The girls are gone, everyone is gone, I hold the dead reporter and scream for help. I turn her over to see her face, my friend stares back at me and the weight of the gun is heavy in my right hand. Darkness. Pitch- black- darkness- The phone rings on my bedside table, i scramble through the empty bags of goldfish and glasses of wine. The crack shoots through the middle of the phone, when i slide to answer the pressure of my finger makes the screen turn blue. “Hello?” “What are you-” I throw the phone against the dresser and when I open my eyes I’m standing on top of the bank of america tower, rain pelts my back stinging me through my clothes. I step off the ledge and plummet- Underwater in the pool resurfacing for air, my dead friend laughs with her boyfriend, throwing her head back for the last sip of beer. The bullet hole is gone, she’s alive. I didn’t **** her. Or maybe you did and now you’re dead too. The gravestone rests in the corner of the brandon graveyard, surrounded by mossy trees and mud there are no flowers here, not a valuable life lost. Madison Ballou AFRAID I cry on the bench, holding onto the frays of my black cardigan to steady myself between the sorrow. How old was I? How old AM I? Seventeen, I was only seventeen when I died. God sits next to me, spinning tarot cards in his hands. “What have I done?” He doesn’t say anything and flips over the card. The tower. “Tell me it’s not too late.” The train pulls into the station, the station being the graveyard, over my grave. They let a train run over my ******* grave. It’s smoke billows into the atmosphere and the whistle is loud. I look back to God and he holds nothing. “What am I doing?” I ask, talk to me. “You were seventeen years old when you died. You were seventeen when you were born, too.” “What does that mean?” “Get on the train.” “Where will it take me?” “On.” I’m so ******* hungry right now. I haven’t eaten since Monday, look at me, look at me. Ravenous, hunger, belly aches of nothingness. I am beautiful! God almighty, BEAUTIFUL! But these ribcages aren’t letting me breathe anymore, size 0 isn’t as glamorous as it seems. I drink wine to fill the void of food, I eat food to fill the other voids, but i filled those with LSD and now there’s nothing left. Standing in front of the refrigerator, the reporter comes and stands next to me. “What are you afraid of?” “Eating.” -x- The phone rings again, vibrating across the room. I crawl on carpet and reach for it, the ringing stops once it’s in my hand. 3 Missed Calls from Brandon. Standing up my room my head spins and the ceiling is still out of reach. The closer I get, the further away it runs. Am I alive? I check my neck for a pulse and it beats with a rapid rhythm. Water, I need water. The lake is beautiful, clear water, drinking water. Pandora! Heaven! I drink the water and it cools my insides, my heart slows to a regular beat. Then the water turns thick in my throat, the taste of metal making me gag. Blood fills the lake, bodies of the dead floating. NoNo! The cameras catch me in front of the lake, I turn towards them with blood still running down my chin. “I-” “These are all the people who cared, all the people who cried.” I turn back to the lake and I see the funeral, everyone I love dressed in black, expressionless faces. My mom hides her face in her hands and a part of me is thankful I can’t see it. “What are you afraid of?” The choir sings but it sounds like blood. “Mars!” She yells. “What happened to you?” Idon’tknowanymore. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to me and I’m scared. I open my eyes to my uncle, molesting me once again. I remember this vividly. I open my eyes to being punched they close again. My stomach drops, I’m falling. I cannot see where I am falling, everything around me is dark- only a blinding light from above? Have I died again? I jolt on the couch, waking up to my friends house. I cannot recall how I have gotten here, or why it is midnight of the next day. Friday-sunday. Saturday forgotten. The computer is bright in the dark room, I can hear girls whispering in the other room, one jumping in the pool. My name comes up on the screen as a user ID, waiting for me to type in my password. My phone lays beside me in a mess of blankets and pillow sheets, 30 new notifications. Nobody is wondering where I am, so I guess i’m not lost. My snapchat memories are filled with videos and pictures of my friends, we went to the beach today, we threw a party. Where was I this whole time? In the pictures but absent. A text comes through, one from an unknown number What are you afraid of? I type back, what do you want from me? Nobody answers. I know this feeling lonliness like the back of my hand. We spent a lot of time together last year.. Collapsing back into bed and watching as the roof sets on fire the smoke enters through my nose and I breathe in foggy air. Inside, I ignite. She comes to me once again, holding her microphone on the side of a hill looking down at the beach. I do not scream. “What are you afraid of?” The moon hovers over the sea “Things getting worse.”
0
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 7:38 PM UTC
a bad trip
She stands in front of me holding her microphone at my lips, cameras flash around us. “Congratulations on your book.” I wrote a book. I’ve done something with my life and that makes me GOOD. smile for the camera, million dollar grins taste like bile. Thank you, thank you all! “What inspired you to write this” I don’t remember what book she’s talking about, incarnadine, middle of mars, buoyant, the harry potter fanfiction in my google docs. “What are you afraid of?” Snakes. “Why won’t you tell us what you’re afraid of?” SNAKES “What scares you the most?” The gun shoots into the back of her head, her mouth drips blood onto my dress. The girls are gone, everyone is gone, I hold the dead reporter and scream for help. I turn her over to see her face, my friend stares back at me and the weight of the gun is heavy in my right hand. Darkness. Pitch- black- darkness- The phone rings on my bedside table, i scramble through the empty bags of goldfish and glasses of wine. The crack shoots through the middle of the phone, when i slide to answer the pressure of my finger makes the screen turn blue. “Hello?” “What are you-” I throw the phone against the dresser and when I open my eyes I’m standing on top of the bank of america tower, rain pelts my back stinging me through my clothes. I step off the ledge and plummet- Underwater in the pool resurfacing for air, my dead friend laughs with her boyfriend, throwing her head back for the last sip of beer. The bullet hole is gone, she’s alive. I didn’t **** her. Or maybe you did and now you’re dead too. The gravestone rests in the corner of the brandon graveyard, surrounded by mossy trees and mud there are no flowers here, not a valuable life lost. Madison Ballou AFRAID I cry on the bench, holding onto the frays of my black cardigan to steady myself between the sorrow. How old was I? How old AM I? Seventeen, I was only seventeen when I died. God sits next to me, spinning tarot cards in his hands. “What have I done?” He doesn’t say anything and flips over the card. The tower. “Tell me it’s not too late.” The train pulls into the station, the station being the graveyard, over my grave. They let a train run over my ******* grave. It’s smoke billows into the atmosphere and the whistle is loud. I look back to God and he holds nothing. “What am I doing?” I ask, talk to me. “You were seventeen years old when you died. You were seventeen when you were born, too.” “What does that mean?” “Get on the train.” “Where will it take me?” “On.” I’m so ******* hungry right now. I haven’t eaten since Monday, look at me, look at me. Ravenous, hunger, belly aches of nothingness. I am beautiful! God almighty, BEAUTIFUL! But these ribcages aren’t letting me breathe anymore, size 0 isn’t as glamorous as it seems. I drink wine to fill the void of food, I eat food to fill the other voids, but i filled those with LSD and now there’s nothing left. Standing in front of the refrigerator, the reporter comes and stands next to me. “What are you afraid of?” “Eating.” -x- The phone rings again, vibrating across the room. I crawl on carpet and reach for it, the ringing stops once it’s in my hand. 3 Missed Calls from Brandon. Standing up my room my head spins and the ceiling is still out of reach. The closer I get, the further away it runs. Am I alive? I check my neck for a pulse and it beats with a rapid rhythm. Water, I need water. The lake is beautiful, clear water, drinking water. Pandora! Heaven! I drink the water and it cools my insides, my heart slows to a regular beat. Then the water turns thick in my throat, the taste of metal making me gag. Blood fills the lake, bodies of the dead floating. NoNo! The cameras catch me in front of the lake, I turn towards them with blood still running down my chin. “I-” “These are all the people who cared, all the people who cried.” I turn back to the lake and I see the funeral, everyone I love dressed in black, expressionless faces. My mom hides her face in her hands and a part of me is thankful I can’t see it. “What are you afraid of?” The choir sings but it sounds like blood. “Mars!” She yells. “What happened to you?” Idon’tknowanymore. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to me and I’m scared. I open my eyes to my uncle, molesting me once again. I remember this vividly. I open my eyes to being punched they close again. My stomach drops, I’m falling. I cannot see where I am falling, everything around me is dark- only a blinding light from above? Have I died again? I jolt on the couch, waking up to my friends house. I cannot recall how I have gotten here, or why it is midnight of the next day. Friday-sunday. Saturday forgotten. The computer is bright in the dark room, I can hear girls whispering in the other room, one jumping in the pool. My name comes up on the screen as a user ID, waiting for me to type in my password. My phone lays beside me in a mess of blankets and pillow sheets, 30 new notifications. Nobody is wondering where I am, so I guess i’m not lost. My snapchat memories are filled with videos and pictures of my friends, we went to the beach today, we threw a party. Where was I this whole time? In the pictures but absent. A text comes through, one from an unknown number What are you afraid of? I type back, what do you want from me? Nobody answers. I know this feeling lonliness like the back of my hand. We spent a lot of time together last year.. Collapsing back into bed and watching as the roof sets on fire the smoke enters through my nose and I breathe in foggy air. Inside, I ignite. She comes to me once again, holding her microphone on the side of a hill looking down at the beach. I do not scream. “What are you afraid of?” The moon hovers over the sea “Things getting worse.”
Continue reading...
71
There lies a secret, unseen, unfolded and powerful paralell dimension, burrowed in our brain. An entirely different path of thinking, which can be explored by applying cerain measures. Different paths, infinity, infinity. Gates.
0
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Thoughts #18
A release of tension, allowing thoughts to wander freely in all the realms, like straying dogs and night cats, and all the animals.
0
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
Thoughts #19
I love life in all its forms I break free of social norms Back in the day of the dorms I lived with my head in my phone Nobody was home Blind to reality Stuck in virtuality A slave to impulses that came from without Trapped in a cave during famine and drought I’d look at the sky and I’d scream and I’d shout Asking why, never understanding That the silence was the answer I am but a tiny dancer In the ballet of the stars The great atomic shuffle The cosmic rainbow truffle Showed me how little we are Showed my how to fly to mars How to view life from afar But closer than ever Showed me that I am my own Mount Everest I could strive to be the most Whateverest The most sarcastic, the cleverest But instead I decided to care To give death my best death stare Flew into the depths of the death star Found there was nothing to find So I reclaimed the dark parts of my mind I set it free Open for you and me Allowed it to simply be My mind is like a liquid It will take any shape that it fits in I no longer force it I let it course, let it flow Let it go where it wants to go Some answers we may never know So we might as well enjoy the show
0
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
Enjoy the Show
the impact of this magic is making me mellow, loving, and strong, my mind is a puzzle and im finally putting it together, piece by piece, im finally connecting these things and becoming who i am, this magic is helping me put myself together and form the best version of me. who i am, and who i hid from. this spell im under is helping me through my journey
0
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
feed your soul
Upon every arrival of every celestial birth, There is only one common normality. A susceptibility to an infinitesimal design, A kink in the chain, the war of our mind. This psychosomatic condition is no stranger, A rendition of life’s existence. Confinement exacerbated by poor health in the gut line, Hormonal imbalances manipulated by addictive influences. Paradigms shifting in front of awakening eyes, Psychedelic truths hidden within the tides of time, Confusion and conflict preventing expansion of evolutionary consciousness, A cyclic pattern, the sadness in all our lives. This idea is immortal and internal in the human genome, The greatest subterfuge, Amnesia
0
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
A Psychedelic Conundrum
In between the Milky Way and the black holes Of the universe inside of this ever expanding mind Growing only to see itself ever smaller Humbled truth feels the most Adoring The fragile perfection of sparkles inside the morning dew And the mind flows in all directions and thoughts So random but in this infinite state Logic is only a string you use to control the Beads of experience and sometimes it helps And in other times you get a glimpse Of something unfathomably familiar And you know that no matter how much Blessings you gathered in life Without a contact it left an empty space Or was it there since before the beginning What DO I know in fact that cancels the Clarity of the feeling that through a sideways Glimpse I captured a snapshot of home In the strangest of places All this rumbiling cacophony of worlds Yet again fails to explain The absence of logic in something That is beyond logic for it is The meaning And despite it all Life goes on You play your part The way you must The way you feel And you still know so little Feeling the truth on the periphery
0
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC
Undefinable
i am dripping in blankets and warm light laying here, with you in this puddle of humans regurgitated by the Earth herself i am happy to be here, with you         happily decomposing         rapidly recomposing my ways         rearranging the staves         no rest here, in the dirt with you giggling and twiddling the stars have been swimming above your sweet face, which is hidden and i am tripping on mushrooms
0
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
wasteland
(from 2012) A chance reveals itself before me, Happenstance too good to pass- I take this to the street, I’m changing how I see. My heart races, my heartbeat fast begins to flee My world becomes vast In a waterless sea I see the movement in every tree As I float on a greener grass Compelled by my knees to take me where I see I follow the calling, only a body A nail guided by magnets moving as mass I’m no longer confined by reality A world crafted by an artisan in geometry, To think every star that meets my eye greets me from the past And we are living trapped and pointlessly. The sun peers over the horizon at me, Light warms my world fast But warmer are my thoughts, the chance that found me Moved my world and set it free.
0
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
"Do You Wanna Do Acid?"
I am your favorite red lipstick that got away, the expensive one your mother gave you because she had an extra. I used to grip the sheen of your swears, while you pressed me against dinner napkins before meals. I know the words you'd like to say, the curses you'd breathe. I taste your grief. You want me to return, you won't come to terms with the thought that I might think I just look a little better on her pallid pallid skin. You've inhaled spores today, it's your day off and you're trying to forget you ever lost me. Writhing with our friends. You're afraid of blood. But you love the sauce. Your skin is crimson, flushed from the heat. What a shock to know, it was you that came on a little too strong.
0
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
Shroom trip blues
My entire life I've had an interest in substances, Psychedelics mainly.. and all it encompasses, The idea of letting loose from this world, and witnessing something truly absurd, but my opinions on substances aren't always preferred. I have always been a man of science, A sceptic in every sense of the bias, but there's a substances in the world called DMT. Dimethyltryptamine to the science community, It appears in every tested plant, mammal and tree, and It's effects are a total MYSTERY, I could spend hours trying to explain what it's like, Like taking a tour of the another universe on the back of a bike, Been guided through an uncomprehendable place, With a character and culture of what seems like another race, The standard laws of physics don't apply, A tingling sensation, and off you go, Leaving your ego to die. coming out of it you laugh, you cry, totally lost for words, again, “What's it like?” people ask, but explaining it is an impossible task... “Druggies” they say, Tarring me with their cliché. Judging me on this factor exclusively, Foolishly, thinking that's what matters, An image of a man with his life in tatters, but delve a little deeper and hopefully that illusion shatters. I'm just a stereotypical geek, I love sci­fi, fantasy and Jonathan Creek, Spend my week days programming and drinking tea, moaning at how ******* footballers treat the referee, or wondering if I should have gone back for my masters degree, How can you have an opinion on something, you've never done? A world in which you've never come, and what initially seems scary, can be enlightening or fun, but it's natural to be scared of what could become. This isn't me saying, I think everyone should take drugs, They're DEFINITELY not for everyone. But do you think you should be allowed to judge? How I spend my own time, with my own body? There's a common phrase “Drugs are bad”, As if an inanimate object has a moral compass, and can know the difference between unlawfulness and justice, Chemicals have no objective opinion, No way to tell their right or reason. Go to the pharmacy, “Paracetamol please” no one ever questions this need, People portray this drug as accepted, while others are shunned and rejected, this judgement isn't made with logic, and the papers will slander with no justification, “YOUNG GIRL LOOSES LIFE!” the headlines shout, those words in your face like a covonia clout, no one cares about the coroner report, All they see is a picture on the front page, Of a poor girls mum distraught, These are portrayed as the rule as opposed to the exception, a perfect example of media deception, then again we all know it's been that way since it's inception. We all know drugs can have negative effects on lives, I've experienced first hand the darker sides, such as my friend Dave who tragically died, an amazing person I'll never again be alongside. ****** abuse can be a ******* awful thing, a cardinal sin, it can change people.... make them a different person in the same skin With no idea what it contains, It is injected directly into their veins, *** and Hepatitis C, Collapsed Veins and crutches plain to see, That's not how anyone should have to be. But is it the substances which are to blame? Is it helped by the way society, publicly shame, People who have had lives I couldn't even BEGIN to explain. Needing something to take away the pain. but ending up with zero gain and although it's not always the same People often don't like what they became. The aim of this poem isn't to force my view, It's to hopefully make you see I'm not much different from you, and to not shun what you don't understand, but listen with open ears, and potentially lend a hand.
0
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
Substances
My entire life I've had an interest in substances, Psychedelics mainly.. and all it encompasses, The idea of letting loose from this world, and witnessing something truly absurd, but my opinions on substances aren't always preferred. I have always been a man of science, A sceptic in every sense of the bias, but there's a substances in the world called DMT. Dimethyltryptamine to the science community, It appears in every tested plant, mammal and tree, and It's effects are a total MYSTERY, I could spend hours trying to explain what it's like, Like taking a tour of the another universe on the back of a bike, Been guided through an uncomprehendable place, With a character and culture of what seems like another race, The standard laws of physics don't apply, A tingling sensation, and off you go, Leaving your ego to die. coming out of it you laugh, you cry, totally lost for words, again, “What's it like?” people ask, but explaining it is an impossible task... “Druggies” they say, Tarring me with their cliché. Judging me on this factor exclusively, Foolishly, thinking that's what matters, An image of a man with his life in tatters, but delve a little deeper and hopefully that illusion shatters. I'm just a stereotypical geek, I love sci­fi, fantasy and Jonathan Creek, Spend my week days programming and drinking tea, moaning at how ******* footballers treat the referee, or wondering if I should have gone back for my masters degree, How can you have an opinion on something, you've never done? A world in which you've never come, and what initially seems scary, can be enlightening or fun, but it's natural to be scared of what could become. This isn't me saying, I think everyone should take drugs, They're DEFINITELY not for everyone. But do you think you should be allowed to judge? How I spend my own time, with my own body? There's a common phrase “Drugs are bad”, As if an inanimate object has a moral compass, and can know the difference between unlawfulness and justice, Chemicals have no objective opinion, No way to tell their right or reason. Go to the pharmacy, “Paracetamol please” no one ever questions this need, People portray this drug as accepted, while others are shunned and rejected, this judgement isn't made with logic, and the papers will slander with no justification, “YOUNG GIRL LOOSES LIFE!” the headlines shout, those words in your face like a covonia clout, no one cares about the coroner report, All they see is a picture on the front page, Of a poor girls mum distraught, These are portrayed as the rule as opposed to the exception, a perfect example of media deception, then again we all know it's been that way since it's inception. We all know drugs can have negative effects on lives, I've experienced first hand the darker sides, such as my friend Dave who tragically died, an amazing person I'll never again be alongside. ****** abuse can be a ******* awful thing, a cardinal sin, it can change people.... make them a different person in the same skin With no idea what it contains, It is injected directly into their veins, *** and Hepatitis C, Collapsed Veins and crutches plain to see, That's not how anyone should have to be. But is it the substances which are to blame? Is it helped by the way society, publicly shame, People who have had lives I couldn't even BEGIN to explain. Needing something to take away the pain. but ending up with zero gain and although it's not always the same People often don't like what they became. The aim of this poem isn't to force my view, It's to hopefully make you see I'm not much different from you, and to not shun what you don't understand, but listen with open ears, and potentially lend a hand.
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Shrooms Stems & caps divided in 8ths. Handful taken, pupils dilate; things get smaller others larger, pictures dance; your in a dream with open eyes
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Drug use #3
We rode white lightning across state lines To a little town in the mountains over the tainted river Where the entire strip is full of bars Buzzing barflys hoping from tavern to tavern It was mid day in broad daylight We found the place A hole in the wall You would only be able find it if you were actually looking Solvent Reflections It was called We went down the stairs, passed the wooden Native American at the front entrance A marvelous collection of glass implements Colorful fabrics and alluring smells A man came out from behind a beaded curtain Eyes glazed and a zonked out look on his face "Right this way" He showed us the assortment of extracts     We chose the middle way Purchased twenty scented sticks Descended from the mountain To a sketchy out post We fought a pool shark While waiting for the evening to come Our friends had come out to play with us To the market for brightly colored cans of caffeine and ethanol Torches lit and music playing We sat in a circle We opened the little brown vile Releasing the leaves of deeper knowledge We put in the vessel of self-exploration Put fire to it and inhaled Immediately she ran to the highest point to admire the art the moon and stars had fashioned on the black and blue firmament His head became a cardboard box And his body began to look like wicker I was somewhere between an animated reality And a three dimensional fantasy My friend went on a cruise upon a swaying pirate ship And found his face under the word "fabulous" on every single page of his dictionary Then saw himself in a magical grassland   But then we stopped and stood in awe Of the mighty Cricket Lord Within ten minutes it came to an end Our voices hoarse from laughter Lets go again
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Muronivid Aivlas
We rode white lightning across state lines To a little town in the mountains over the tainted river Where the entire strip is full of bars Buzzing barflys hoping from tavern to tavern It was mid day in broad daylight We found the place A hole in the wall You would only be able find it if you were actually looking Solvent Reflections It was called We went down the stairs, passed the wooden Native American at the front entrance A marvelous collection of glass implements Colorful fabrics and alluring smells A man came out from behind a beaded curtain Eyes glazed and a zonked out look on his face "Right this way" He showed us the assortment of extracts     We chose the middle way Purchased twenty scented sticks Descended from the mountain To a sketchy out post We fought a pool shark While waiting for the evening to come Our friends had come out to play with us To the market for brightly colored cans of caffeine and ethanol Torches lit and music playing We sat in a circle We opened the little brown vile Releasing the leaves of deeper knowledge We put in the vessel of self-exploration Put fire to it and inhaled Immediately she ran to the highest point to admire the art the moon and stars had fashioned on the black and blue firmament His head became a cardboard box And his body began to look like wicker I was somewhere between an animated reality And a three dimensional fantasy My friend went on a cruise upon a swaying pirate ship And found his face under the word "fabulous" on every single page of his dictionary Then saw himself in a magical grassland   But then we stopped and stood in awe Of the mighty Cricket Lord Within ten minutes it came to an end Our voices hoarse from laughter Lets go again
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