How high were you?!

A psychedelic minute...

"TICK TICK TICK"
reverberates in my ears..
Like the fabled White Rabbit,
a slave to my watch,
a devise to measure a man made idea.
In one minute I,
the purveyor of the psychedelic rabbit hole,
in true shamanistic style,
will blast off
by way of  L.S.D.
Anxiety...
Ever on the quest
of who's more "gangster"
(wifey having done 10 hits the previous night)
this "Red eyed rider of the astral planes"
knows knows
that I fucked up.
"20 hits,
Might've been too much."
Thinks I...
Totally unprepared for the journey
upon which I am about to embark..

"TICK TICK TICK!!!", obnoxiously the clock screams..
Ten minutes prior to me dosing...
As I look to the wall clock,
of which,
I am now enslaved
-for I am a time watcher-
I come to a gross realization
that this
-strong enough mind for mind expansion-
stoner son of a hippie,
might've taken too much...
Palms sweat,
to make damp,
that which is normally dry..
Ears ringing,
My stomach developed the,
"YOU FUCKED UP!!"
wrenching of anxiety induced,
"OH SHIT!!!"
"Surely the clock isn't melting already"
I think
through confused fog..
Ten minutes after dosing,
the overwhelming .
"I fucked up" washes over me...

"TICK TICK TICK!!!" the clock's metronome annoyance...
Eyes,
focused tunnel vision.
Glued to the
(drug induced, 'not-so-normal')
shackles of clock..
(for surely we are all slaves of time)
Hour hand,
minute hand,
and second hand..
Swirled and melted,
a mending with kaleidoscopic graphics,
in intense visual orgasm,
barely able to make out
that it is midnight..
on the dot..

"TICK TICK TICK!!!"
The timepiece's song sings..
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" my mind screams..
As the second hand revolves
slowly
around the rim
of this now melting...
Clock...
This "White Rabbit" incarnate
peers on...
in a curious
"OH MY GOD DID I FUCK UP!!!"
Wonder..
Riddled with
an ever increasing,
candid apprehension as,
the psychedelics
run her course...
and...
the second hand
(now longer,
than the clock is wide)
traverses the rough terrain
of perpetual travel
and lands on the half way point,
the VI...
The depictions illustrated
by the L.S.D.
paint a picture in which,
the melting clock is the focal point..

"TICK TICK TICK!!!"
"Seconds of my life melted away, in wonton fashion",
I think as I'm overcome..
As a story
of epic proportions manifests,
behind this
FUCKING FRUSTRATING !!!
melting metronome,
my eyes remain glued,
as though skin
to our circulatory system..
The second hand swirling,
With colors...
And liquid emotion,
as behind it,
A picture appears deep,
within it's wake..
Hovered precariously
atop the IX...
thoughts race..
"That's definitely not natural."
and
"This isn't right."
And
"Something is wrong."
scroll across the wall
like the earnings across wall street.
"In nasdaq today, gold futures are up, and YOU'RE FUCKED UP!!!"

"TICK TICK MOTHERFUCKING TICK!!!!!"
As the seconds melt away,
in an absolutely,
literal manner,
the clock blends,
fluidly into the
Psychedelic Oddyssey
portrayed upon the wall and..
I'm overcome by insanity..

"TICK TICK TICK!!",
"What's happening to me?"
Fear induced thought fragments,
Right as the sweep hand of this
"timepiece instrument of bondage"
renders it's first
full revolution since gazing,
transfixed on it,
This White Rabbit
receives to his ass,
with the force of a freight train,
A boot..
(the boot worn by the secrets of the universe)
which launched this hare,
headlong,
down the rabbit hole
of equilibrium,
into my life altering
astral projection...
The very last thing this
Connoisseur of Questions Un-known,
recognizes
before receiving ego death,  
(the instrument of my reform)
is the second hand,
devoid of motion
above the XII...
Time stops...
I was flung into the void..
Starting my first...
and last astral projection...
ever incurred..

my mourning walk alone

when the boys go to sleep
and so does the tv
i'm still up
and now the sun is
too.
 
its weird
when you're 21
sneaking out of your friend's house
at six in the morning
and all his doors
won't close
and every floor board
creaks.
 
i always try to keep on a path
with no turns
because i am bad with direction
and to be direct
i don't want to loose my way.
 
the road is short though
before it breaks off
into a left or a right
in which i go
the road that takes me
to a town
that i vaguely know.
 
i made it to the park
we spent a day once
and stole that lady's purse
in the parking lot
not to far from here.
 
i sat on the swings
and took bumps
from your stash
while i smoked a blunt
and watched a man
mow the grass.
 
but somehow i ended up in a corn field
probably around nine
on a large rock
in the weeds
where low and behold
i smoked another blunt
and listened to the early birds
talk
talk
talking
then the farmer on a tractor came
so i put it out and i went
walk
walk
running
all the way back
down the street.
 
its even weirder
when your 21
sneaking back into your friend's house
at ten in the morning
luckily everyone was up late
and no one was up now
because if by some
not so slim chance
his family had been at their kitchen table
having breakfast
they might not have remembered me
and would have been totally freaked
if a stranger that looked like i do
just walked in
...
 
thank heavens that wasn't the case
and i went straight up the stairs
to where the boys we're still sleeping
and would of never known
where i had been
if not for my pants being wet
at the ends
by morning dew
on baby corn stalks
and my boots
covered in mud.

vaccum

i'm high

high as a,

bike.

Lacey, your words stimulate me... very good.. NEXT?!

Nr.1
A constant reminder: The black birds circle around the yard.
This Ecstasy is hitting hard.
A constant reminder of where you are.
The "friends" you party with have all gone far.
Far beyond where you can follow.
On drugs that are much harder to swallow.
Perhaps it's good you can't keep up.
This is to remind yourself, you have to stop.

Nr.2
To this world I chose to hate.
I am a piece of property of this world.
I will be a prisoner till I'm old.
All my deeds will be recorded.
All my secrets will be undone.
Every sin will be reported,
but one day I will have won.
On the hour of the eternal,
past the day of my demise.
Smoking Ganja in the inferno,
this world no longer will I despise.

^^^Very good, thank you Allen!!

How high was I?
Well, I once blew a guy
For a big fat rock
I gobbled up his cock.

Just fucking around, not my entry, or a true story.

Thank you matt ;)

Lets go people!! There are some people who partake of lifes nectar!!

"Northwest Territories"
(A Night of Major Frolicking with Becky)

Once,
I woke up
without my car,
shoeless and
with a guitar,
which I don't play.

They said my car
was found in
the next county,
with the keys
still in it,
motor was on,
tank was nearly empty.

Bits and pieces
came back to
me over time,
strange faces and
explosive-words,
must have been
genuine mayhem.

The lesson I learned
was not
to mix weed,
tequila and wine,
live music
with a pretty girl.
I still don't know
where she went, but
heard she lives
in a commune
way up in Canada now,
in the Northwest Territories.

<Whoops>

Nice.. I love that^^

Decaying

Her sin was curved into a violent moon,
sheltered by whore stars
that kneel for pleasures
enchanted by the penultimate hand
of a dying poetess
eternally bound under burning gods

there's a frantic cadence in her heart
beckoning once forgotten silhouettes
to bereave her tounge
so as to never speak the shames of midnight
and watch as her onyx sky
gradually seams a veil of paranoia

she developed an abstract love
for a vulgar world
when she kissed her ghosts
with decaying lips
and became impregnated
by the purgatory of addiction





Yeah... I was pretty high