September 2, 2013

The following is a collection of thoughts written down after a few hours of entheogenic fun.

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(Outer Space Mountain Range sketched above)

I think I lived here long ago.

My hands find some numbness to write when I think about the old.

Where I threw greens and peaches and reds, I found some kind of growth.

Why worry about connotation when there is no meaning at all.

It’s a trip. It’s beautiful, but I have to go back. A trip doesn’t last forever.

Somehow EVERYTHING rhymes, and it’s fucking beautiful.

I find some consolation for all their wrongs just to find some peace of my own.

SAIL.

(Sketched picture of sailor commanding a ship across the sea at night)

We are sitting around a common stone, only hailed with different flags.

Something about buffaloes, I don’t know.

There is a glass pavilion of stars above my head. I see each one.

Your eyes must burn for your lies. I must be guilty, too.

I need deeper nourishment.

I’m on the mountain path that comes before death. We all walk together.

Your body is to me as the clouds are to the sky.

I wonder what knowledge can truly do to us.

Cities die.