Our lives are the purest form of poetry,
Each moment is potent,
We are the cosmos in motion.

Some people believe in fate,
I say believe in flourishing; ask yourself:
What doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things?

Sometimes I think about my life
and I'm struck by a vast sadness, for
my past and the future, hopeless, even
though I know there is hope, lovelessness
though I know there is love, and anger because
I cannot help but feel these things. I want to be better,
I'm trying, gave up all the things that made me forget
how broken I am, and I'm afraid to take them back up
again. Part of me knows I could be happy, another part
hates that possibility. Happiness made it fragile, it can't
show vulnerability and this's killing me. I am too afraid
of being hurt to stop feeling this pain and let myself out
and allow others back in. There is something wrong with
me and some days
I struggle to fix it
but other days I
just sink into it;

Amidst traipsing
through the town
I had such a clarity
as to where my soul
had been, as to where
I had gone;
Nu kyr'adyc,
**** taab'echaaj'la.
Who is it that's survived me?
Amongst my menacings
about this city, I was

human, briefly

I titrate 20mg of 2C-T,
A substance I named Tesseract.
The effective dose is supposedly
three to fives times more than mine
but I quite like it here. Warm, benign
headspace, not altogether insightful but
friendly (and
we all need friends at times).
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylthiophenethylamine,
It was the first '2C' to have a sulfur atom,
A realm of possibilities opened up from there:
2C-T-1, Tesseract. I wonder what of
2C-T-2, Rosy. Or
2C-T-7, Beautiful. Or
2C-T-21, Aurora. Per'aps
2C-T-28, Vesper. I'd go on,
I do wander so often upon
these marvelous compounds.

I thought sacrificing my ego
would make me better; praising The Entheon
could make me happier.

I was wrong, without an ego
I lost everything, one needs
a coherent self to function.
I'll pray to The Apotheon
and give myself to the enemy.

I will lose nothing
in the dark and embrace the thing
I held back for so long.

I will study the dark arts again,
Sorcery and addiction.

I will trust in myself to do the right thing.

I'd love something apotheogenic to get me out and unto
escapism, like some speed or *****. Halloween came
knocking again, the memories of her were so far away
it didn't matter. Give me an apotheogen over love

any day, the comedown/withdrawal is
more tolerable, I wanna be blown far far
away, adjust glutamate and GABA to keep
those fabled excitatory and inhibitory forces
bent to my pain; for which I'm responsible.
I hate having to curb my own autonomy.

I simply cannot fathom my own reason anymore
and it's conclusions are
killing me. "My mind
to your mind, my thoughts
to your thoughts". Of us three
which'll you trust? Psychonaut,
Dissonaut, or oneironaut. All this talk
of associatives, dissociates and spontaneity
has me lost. How will you find your way about?

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'm just trying to be happy
she told me, and I knew the weight of her words
having spoke them before.
A heaviness and loss of innocence linger. I wish
I could comfort her better,
I too am trying to get there,
She knows I love her as one of my dearest friends.

Whatever are we?
Whatever are we like?

These weekends take their toll
on our hardened souls
as we weather the comedown

It feels as if I'm sinking
into the deep end again,
Mulling over the particulars
of nothing, I find myself
longing; wanting, things.
I stare out my window,
Curled up on its ledge
like a feline, discerning
the character of lamplight
and the quality of shadows
cast on a row of houses and
the sidewalk. I am this lost broadcast
of resounding consciousness,
I am a lonesome psychonaut,
and it's possible I'm an apostate
because I do not use drugs much
anymore. I love the dark, the rain

and the tranquility found in a storm.
I am a human with a quiet addiction.

I am a silent fiend.
I am too old to care
and too young to die.

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.

The city is quiet
on this stoney
Sunday evening.

Some students are hungover,
Some carry on the ReSession.

Dusk; and the streets are zen,
Clear-skies and lamplight
shining down as night sets in.

Who's on the recovery buzz,
Who's keeping it going?

Trying to survive
the long road home
but if you want to live
you ought find a new way home.

Talk to yourself like you would
someone you love. High places,
Low stations; can't place the hour
as I walk through these suburbs.

Some people are so alive and full of life,
Some people just want to die
as the world burns
around them

because nothing is
so warm.

You know,
I could have told you

so much more
if I weren't so afraid
of the stars and those lives
that I left behind all those closed doors.

I dreamed of 839 last night,
I dreamed the gang was back together
and it really messed me up.

Here comes the last festival
of this lost summer,
*"Safe as ****."

Looking back over my shoulder
down the path we're walking,
Looking for a wolf howling

out for nostalgias past. So broken
I knew winter that summer, so much
it was enough. The wonders discovered

under the throes of streetlight
broke me down
and I did rejoice
because I knew nothing else,

That 'static burn on my heart and a tang of
crystal streetlight in my mouth.

I walked to the gig but it wasn't in me
Saw a couple heads as I was leaving.
I walked over, greeted them, lost myself
in the lull of conversation. As I looked
in their eyes, at their demeanor, I saw what
I'd been trying to leave behind. I tried to hide from it,
I realized: I wish I'd just get wrecked, be carefree and destroy myself,

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.

Like glass bottles kiss the pavement,

The Kωκυτός (Cocytus) and
The Ἀχέρων (Acheron) broke
around the stone I stood upon.
A mephitic fog enveloped me as
I left, it urged me to forget myself.
I ran from the mists of oblivion and
afterwards I swore an oath on the Styx,

Reminding me to let life
get under my skin and run
through my cavernous veins,

I'm on fire again
and it burns like a dæmon.

I find myself reveling in this
feeling, feeling so much more
than I had before. I worry that
I'd lose myself in this
quiet inferno, or return to those
forgotten shores, that I'd bathe
in the Phlegethon or the Lethe
once more. Pyromancy and tranquillity.

“Everything has its wonders, even darkness
and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content”.

Time is a river whose waters we stand in,
Memory is the fountain which overflows.

I will finish five months of therapy
yet find myself wondering
should I have made it an even six?

I question with Four Tet on, As Serious
As Your Life has been, any answers given
have left me wondering.

How seriously do I take it,
Opia, existence?
All I want is to love life,
I thank music for being so kind. What Rom Di Prisco cast
I would divine, Gamma Velorum, Graviphoton, any other insight.

Today I considered several fluorinated analogues for the 2C-x and DOx families, extending these considerations to the 2C-T-x and Aleph branches of their respective family trees. There are perhaps
over a dozen viable compounds, clinical trials pending.
Afterwards I took a lengthy shower and cooked dinner.
Following this I joined my compatriots upon campus, wherein we engaged in conversation aided by the consumption of ethanol and caffeine, tonic wine indeed. These are my thoughts while I am still
drunk and wired. I've been afraid

I might not be ready to leave, I know I am.
"Ohana means family
and family means nobody gets left behind".

I'm coming back.
In that glittering, bottomless moment a pair of opaque pupils refocus.

So many stories, so much time
spent by humans who mull over
questions so sonderous, pour over
answers which fill us
with such feeling
our hearts' would burst.
So many constructs, so much memory
Happiness, or drugs; if it's not one
it's another. Been so busy dying
I forgot to get living.
There is beauty in chaos.
Looking back upon
those times, these memories, fondly
and appreciating why Skins doesn't age.
In memoriam of spent youth, lost moments
and truth.

"UR A GLORIOUS HEADFUCK THING. OWN IT"

During the holidays we'd spend some time
on our university campus
tripping.
I'm sure the total amount of time spent there
under the influence of psychedelics
would surprise
a few of my lecturers, but I know that
places of learning benefit from
the open-minded.

Burlesque fatuous is the implication of your emotional daily pretentiousness. I am seldom, otherwise a psychopath, able
to own fraternity which I can't
discernment or jester because there is an art to love and ******
And it's a conventional edit to your own dullness. I am vivid,
Debris to impersonation.
I am absent but identical
to thin air. I am a Prometheus
Arabian night in Lysistrata premise.
My words may remind you of the day I held your eyes in infinite cluster. Perhaps my love isn't enough for you to understand. For example, the glassed vain is paralysis iridium illicitness which is svelte to inadmissible synthesis. The cloud let are torsion, assail with cypress and impossible solariums; and the propane was a sensation of disjointed loveliness.
Every time I go for a walk, mosquitoes understand my lonely talks because they sip my blood at a quarter past ten but these glazed roads scrutinized my wrist, escorted vernal preposterous blue/purple relentless ghostly cheekbones.
Thought I could festive the blaze among the cedar bridge road
but take a pause and look at my skin and thighbones,
Preterists to flowered unless I smile and tell you
"This is heartbreak"*

*Unable to keep up with your facetiousness, personality failed me temporarily. Mind melting in a moment of dissonance,
This cognitive refrain refracts the 'I' that oscillates accordingly.
One's morphology, tuned to its own metric of change.
Hypnos whispers and sleep beckons, taunting insomnia (which makes a mockery of all humans) but Morpheus has no time for anything less than grandiose archetypes.
Last night I may have dreamt or drunk some foolish things, told people the truth untruthfully, let slip more than I should have.
What a pity, secrecy. They say
information wants to be free.
Who lingers in the details?
Past memories are liberated only by the present. I stand here in the downpour, soaking it all in.
Compassion, god is in the rain.
My fulgurite heart resting on the palm of a deity, at a tilt, slowly it's sliding off; when it fell I gasped.
The reflection of wide eyes in each of its atria, emotion flowing through these venae cavae, those
dilated eyes shimmered before it shattered, gleaming with passion. Us, in the blink of an I.

Had a bump of hexen last night
and some heart-strain this morning.

I should probably worry, but I don't know
what takes precedent. To be politically incorrect,
I feel like I'm sick in the head
a lot of the time. It's who I am,
Who I had to become to survive,
To live, and even though
I'm through it
I struggle to forgive myself. I hope this is the start
of a better relationship between us, ourselves, I;

For the first time in a long while I felt
wholeness after poiesis, reconciliation, reintegration.

My sadness is closer
to the surface, I can feel it
tugging at my mind
but my gut won't budge
and all else is quiet.

All I can hear is my own
lonesome heartbeat
as I wonder
whether it's possible
to die of a broken heart.

I don't know why I'm sad,
I have so much to live for
but I set the bar too high.
Guess my cardio isn't
what it should be.

*Guess we could blame
the N-Ethylhexedrone,
Hexen does seem to pressure that *****.

Love is eternal
though spirit
may change.

Once you love you always love.
A moment in time is suspended
as past diverges from present,
Love becomes attached in memory.

People may change but memory is immutable
once its sense is set,
Although knowledge and understanding
are not always the fastest of friends.

Don't be afraid of change,
Embrace it, roll with it and
you always come out on top.

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.

It's so strange
how little I'll let slip
compared to what I share

here, with you.
It's so odd
how much I've put out there
compared to what I keep

here, with us.
I need to come out of this
pain. I love

and hate
everything because
on some days I'm worth it
and on other days I'm not.

So I write
this terrible poetry
that means the world to me
and briefly the world stops
destroying me.

In this act of creation
I can breathe, poiesis
frees me from fear, it

releases me from my own
agony, I can believe at last
and all I can see are moments
shared between people, kept in memory.

It is bittersweet, καλλίστη.

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.

I'm trying
so hard
to be human
and that
is where I
keep falling
down. It hurts.

These social somersaults make me sick,

I find I am inconsistent in my thinking,
Depending on my present company.

My internal dialogue is so messy:
Everyone's talking, nobody's listening.

Sometimes I feel as if each of us were stranded
on our own island, and our only way to communicate is by

shouting across the straits
at one and other

Woke up
still drunk,
I feel so sick
listening to Cigarettes After ***
while writing this.

These tears I held back
for a few years have
come and gone and
now I'm hungover.

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.

It is 4 AM and the indigo of dawn
has crept up behind the dark
mass of clouds, tendrils
of wispy sky shadow
can be made out
as its glow indicates
the path Apollo's chariot
will cut through the night in four hours.

Near two millennia ago a human once wrote:
“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars,
And see yourself running with them.”
Near two millennia from now a human might read
what words I've written and find me
whilst trawling through the hopes and dreams
of someone so far away.
Somebody saw something of beauty, they reach out
through the ages to pass it on;
Their feeling encapsulated,
Their reason  preserved,
Their spirit remembered
as for a moment they are disclosed.

Even if all I have to say is a word
for the light of the horizon
as it creeps unto dawn,
I am in your mind
briefly. I forget there's so much
I want to live for sometimes
so I write something
to remind me.

**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, see me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me,
**** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me, **** me.

Love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me,
Hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me,
Love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me,
Hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me,
Love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me,
Hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me,
Love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me,
Hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me.

Leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me,
Leave me, need me, leave me, need me, leave me, need me, leave me,
Leave me, leave me, need me, need me, need me, leave me, leave me,
Leave me, need me, need me, need me, need me, need me, leave me,
Leave me, leave me, need me, need me, need me, leave me, leave me,
Leave me, need me, leave me, need me, leave me, need me, leave me,
Leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me, leave me.

Believe me, believe me, believe me, believe me, believe me, believe me,
Believe me, it's buried, believe me, believe me, it's buried, believe me,
Believe me, believe me, it's buried, it's buried, believe me, believe me,
Believe me, believe me, it's buried, it's buried, believe me, believe me,
Believe me, it's buried, believe me, believe me, it's buried, believe me,
Believe me, believe me, believe me, believe me, believe me, believe me.

Deceive me, feed me, deceive me, feed me, deceive me, feed me, deceive
Me, believe me, heed me, believe me, heed me, believe me, heed me, feed
Me, feed me, deceive me, feed me, deceive me, feed me, deceive me, feed
Me, believe me, heed me, believe me, heed me, believe me, heed me, feed
Me, feed me, deceive me, feed me, deceive me, feed me, deceive me, feed.

Pleading, appeasing, displeasing, apologising, releasing, pleasing me,
Pleading, appeasing, displeasing, apologising, releasing, pleasing me,
Pleading, appeasing, displeasing, apologising, releasing, pleasing me,
Pleading, appeasing, displeasing, apologising, releasing, pleasing me.

Will you end it quickly, will you end it quickly, will you end it quickly,
will you end it quickly, will you tend to it quick, will you end it quickly,
will you end it quickly, will you end it quickly, will you end it quickly?

Will we ever learn to stop worrying and love the bomb, will we ever
learn to stop worrying and love our carbon?

When the human's over turn out the lights!

The nadir of humanity walked into the room,
Radiating unconditional misanthropy, he felt
everyone's eyes swivel to look at me, watched
them dart back to their original viewing position
a tad too quickly.

I write when I am
distressed, when I
don't understand, when I
desire rest. I write when I wish,
I wish I were struck
by anything moving
fast, of adequate mass
that it might jolt me out
of this existence and into
a dimension which doesn't
quite exist, as it's residing in
thought, that fifth dimension.
It's calling me, calling to me;
Calling out my name,
Or do I call to it?
Wishfully.
I don't have to try
to think softly after
a roaring voice rips
through my mind, it
is just a thought that
crops up sometimes.
The sound is thought
which drifts, fear slips
and I know I'll stand
between sky
and sand when this
is all over.
Ashes to
ashes,
Dust
to dustpan.
Sweep me up.

"G'luck to ya"
sounds like
there's a
Glock
aimed at
your head
but I swear

that's just the
sarcasm talking.

I cannot say
of the daydreams, why they come and go
so fleetingly.

I cannot say
how often I dreamt
of Columbine or suicide.

I cannot say
how many times
I took substances
to get out of my mind.

I cannot say how many nights I fell asleep
counting
compounds like most people count sheep.

All I can say
is that I sought relief;

Do we ever get to know?

I feel as though I am fading
faster than the memory of you.

I admit I thought of your body
on occasion, last year. You gave
me those memories and it's time
move on, been holding on for too
long. Give me the courage to let go.

That numb, unfeeling sensation became dear to me, a state of mind accompanying serotonin depletion which meant I could no longer feel. A part of me misses
its darkness. Halfway in-between
checking myself out and going back
to those few, all-too-brief years spent
in the throes of junkiedom, it struck me:

It's the things people don't do that they truly regret.
You can laugh at how awkward you were,
You can't laugh at what never was.
No point living halfway,
All or nothing.
"If I don't go crazy I'll lose my mind,
I saw a life before me but now I'm blind,
I want to go to heaven, never been there before,
I want to go to heaven, so you give me some more".

Give me a decent cloak with a proper hood please.
Merci beaucoup.

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.

I lost it, lost you, lost me;
I'm not, I am. Somebody
come back and remind
me why, been working
so hard to get to that
place.
Have you even one iota
of post-human faith?
I almost died, all I
wanted was to feel
love.
So many beautiful
people and I feel so
detached.
Without a
sense of self
what am I really about?

His head wasn't in the right ♇lace.

She'll want to do emotional
and I don't know if I can.

I may write like a narcissist, but
I do not love myself.

My boundaries are messy, I am
messed up. I wanted to tell you