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whenever i take psychedelics i like to stare at myself in the mirror. i don’t do it in self adoration. i’m watching myself morph into the truth. my face stops being human and becomes something more familiar. my eyes are the main thing that change, always the eyes. they turn into something different and perfect…
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i dream about a forest where the ground doesn’t quite hold and pinecones whisper. it’s not broken here, but the reading of it slips. the moon hangs wrong and the stars keep splitting. daytime never quite comes here. sometimes i don’t notice, sometimes i do, then i forget what i felt like i always do.…
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over the years i’ve realised i have strong opinions. some matter, some don’t. one of my most revisited ones is about shapes. i keep returning to triangles, i really hate triangles. they are too pointy they stab me. i remember feeling it once, someone trying to tell me the truth and i asked them to…
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i would like to reincarnate without being aware of it, i envy those in a state of oblivion, i struggle to comprehend hell, and heaven terrifies me. the idea of heaven brought me comfort up until i was around 7. then the concept of infinite life, even the most pleasurable of lives alongside the Holy…
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i’m not scared of the plane hitting turbulence and falling out of the sky, i’m certain that that kind of death wouldn’t happen to me. i’m scared of a freak incident where cabin pressure dips without any souls or instruments noticing. everyone just sitting there breathing while something invisible has already started. death scares me…