@ 8 O clok I dropped acid

The name of the deceased has been changed, not only to protect their family but to emphasize the symbol above the person. Do not seek the author for I do not exist.

8:00 sacrament dropped I have a fairly clear head. Not sure what's going to happen but I am not nervous. Not sure if I am supposed to swallow this thing or just sit it on my tongue. Tried to find something to pass the time but I can't get into escapism anymore. Suppose this act is my escape. I don't have a clock so probably won't document when it hits. Maybe I will find where my emotions have been hiding. There is a ringing in my ears. Not unusual for me but it's somewhat pronounced. I am in a very fucked up place right now, my lover a whore, my friends criminals. I am monogamous, I don't want to hurt anyone. I showed the same cold face to the woman that she has only ever shown me. She will not see my face now. I am requested to leave her things outside. Do I scare people who get to know me to well? I faux around a sheep but that same emotionless non caring can be applied anywhere anyhow. My confusion stems from a simple fact that I do not know if I am right or wrong in the treatment of this situation. More confusion lies in the question, should I care? My whole life I have had this sense that I am looking for a girl. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of me imagining her. 8:27 Some squeeky voiced kids are screaming bloody mirder. YOU DIE NOW! and then calm talk and then go in the pool, and then GET OFF MY PROPERTY I`LL KILL YOUR WHOLE FAMILY!. When I was young was this humorous? Air conditioners are running outside my window, in waves it turns on and off, droning. Swallowed the tab, feels caught in my throat so I drink juice. I burp it tastes like bubblegum. Feeling is still in my throat. The fridge adds to the air conditioner's song. More screechy voices. Still not feeling effects. I can smell the ink from my pen. I write with a pen I received for having a co-op student. Together we recreated Mario. I think he enjoyed it. Do I feel sad because I worry about others happiness? Am I sad

because no one worries about mine? Constantly climbing a tower with no end. No onset feelings. Consciousness feels normal. Light and touch are doing their typical thing. I still have an appetite. I can always bust out the pipe. Good ol fashion panic button she is. Air conditioner stopped. Fridge still going. I am waiting to enjoy life it appears. I am writing a journal so a year in review I can assess my own psychological state. I imagine giving it to a therapist and saying 'help'. I can't escape anymore. But I can't deal with this. I need to find my other. So we may create together. Still no effects, whell very suttel. Air feels clean. I am still tired though. Closed eye visuals, same ol same ol. Maybe this is where I draw the line in the sand. The awareness that my consciousness is my consciousness. It does not need help, it is not broken, drugs don't enhance it. It is me here and now breathing and dealing with the sorrows of loneliness. I need to come out of my shell. I meet new people all the time but seldom call, or get numbers. I suppose I have had bad luck though, the women by my side destroying me and those we meet. She hides me from the public as she parades around snagging more into her flock. Being a sheep is very comfortable but you are treated as a herd not an individual. You all want to control the shepherd, be gifted with special attention, follow his/her feet. But there is so much more in these fields unguarded. There are real flowers that soaps are made to smell like. There is soft grass, untrampled by the masses. With which you can lie down and bask in the sun. There are birds innumerable that can put every musician to shame. But no one wants to walk alone. There are caverns so dark, no organics are welcome. You alone should know this and walk with out fear. There is no light for plants, no plants for bugs, no bugs for larger things and no larger things to feed monsters. So walk with your self guiding light. Walk with your knowledge into the darkest of it all. But do not give to fear. For you are the only person in this dark place that is capable of fear. If you must rest, sleep well knowing nothing will disturb you, or take advantage of your weakness. Travel onwards pointlessly seeking love, as not even heroin can take that from you. I am a child in the world playing adult. I am scared. I want to know my mother is there and she loves me. But I have been raised to feel separated from this. She would pull me from my dreams and tell me existence sucks and then you die. I will not believe this and for this my family has alienated me. I am ostracized for my dreams. I dream large and so many will say nay. If I bend I shall go mad as they pull me from my lofty place. But to make

them happy I must set aside my public throne and hold it in my heart. They will have their politics, and their laws, and their wars, but I will have my dream. My dream shall be my fuel concealed. Flaming my passions, moving my bones. My body is magnificent for controlling it all. Why must I be so lost. I am cursed to keep writing it would appear lest I be crushed by that which overwhelms me. This is my meditation. My Zen. The crafting of masons. I create in my temple. Nihilism is a great trap. For it is the face of god unknowable. The sun is going down I fear turning on artificial lights. I shall go sit on the roof. Motor skills are still intact. Slight slowness, like drunkenness. Visuals most definitely trick playing. My fingers hurt from writing. The wind in the trees is most beautiful. A bird chirps and a baby makes the mistake of trying to communicate. Or is that a cat? tricky. I have been travelling since time infinite. But I will never understand. Cats choir this is wonderful. Even they know the sorrow love brings. I have perfected sitting and breathing. Real basic like. You sit in a position that is comfortable and won't make your legs numb. And then you breath. Like you always do. The rapture could come, as long as I keep breathing I shall be alive. Mosquitos whisper in my ear. Me skin looks green and scalely. I sit on the sea floor the wind is the waters currents. Even you have seen plants move underwater. I wish I could chat with trees. They would be fantastic social critiques, all the shit they have seen. If they were faster they would probably slap us aside the head. I don't know if I can feel this level of peace with others around. I wish I could. I am very glad the experience is not terrifying. It is the amplified overwhelmingness of every instance of existence. It is no conflict. It is love. The poor bugs. They just want to exist too. Who defends their right to life. Until you can take responsibility for an ant you have no right leading men. I belong among trees. Shame I write on their corpses. The beings to learn have to. I laugh at myself day dreaming a good day where I will drop acid and sit on roof writing a book. My reality is my imagination at this very moment. So let us cut a portal into an alternate reality. With this pen I shall slice dimensions and tell of a man named Seth. Seth is a baker, I wakes he rises, and he preps for the bread. Once prepared he sets the sun of the oven. The bread rises and prepares for it's journey through life. The mosquitos drinking my blood have no idea what they are gettin into. Seth takes the bread down to the market after the peak of the sun has passed. He trades bread for eggs and flour. For beer and friends. Seth wakes everyday full on known what it

will bring him. And it does not startle him. He embraces it. Oh my stars. They are coming out, this will be fantastic. Seth lives on property he does not own, nor care to. That's some one elses' stict. He does no wrong, fears no invasion. He simply lives as he should. In peace with no struggle. For it is only greed for more that can remove us from paradise. I am having difficulty seeing the ink the pen produces, but I shall have faith in my ability to write these glyphs. There is a large source of fake light out here. Tricks me into thinking the sun is rising. I wonder if the trees dislike the assault on their rest. Kimbo you wonderful fairy, I thank you!!!!!!!! One thousand fold. Today you were a bringer of light. I stare up at the stars open mouth smiling. It's all so fascinating. You don't need a spaceship to look down on earth, just look up. And take it all in. It is a shame knowing whence will return and I will have to hide once more. The sky is sparkely. The air around the stars flash moments of new existences unexplored. Do my eyes twitch or does the mind need justification to what it sees as incomprehensible. The light playing off the trees, the wind moving the branches, I see bodies orgy in a festivity of love. Or is it dragons fighting. The on going of ferocious holies. The fake lights run. The cat returns. The stars take the centre stage. They shall begin to tell their tale. That poor cat wants to get fucked so bad. Her cry is but to shame my conception of loneliness. The stars shift as if they are incased in a sea of jello. Their is no dought in my mind. The stars are moving. Car alarm and flashing lights. Cats are pissed. I remember I am part of society. Though a strange member, I am a contributor. Below me the cats fight. They hiss and spit. The stars move with the wind. It is like a great body of water. My legs protest! I am all but within the dark now, giving much faith to my pen in knowing what to do. I can not hate at this current woman for she is a child like me, lost and playing in an existence she doesn't understand. It is now 10:38 That means 4 more hours of inspiration. It is amazing the contrast that is the outside world compared to the silence and controlled wind and light. Serious talk time. There is a guilt I must deal with. A guilt all who knew him must deal with. Andrew, all who knew him and grew up with him knows he was a normal person. The world tried to pin him up as strange, tried to say he was aggressive. Not once can I ever recall being threatened by him. When we were young he would talk about how he hated the world and wanted to change it. I was a child I had the same thoughts. He was

victimized and drugged. He was made a monster not of his own doing but of ours. A brilliant man is caged, a great white shark can not be captured. They die in captivity. He didn't need sedation. He was a poet driven to suicide attempt #1 before finishing public school. The complete failure of our education system is here in it's most glaring ugliness. The system drove a child to suicide. But from here we isolate him more, put him in special schools, so he knows he's different. HE WAS NORMAL!!!!!! In my childhood I stood with him and called him my friend. Our consciousnesses were the same. He was made an example of. Even later in life his writing still fascinates me. The system failed. It's one goal should be to support life and it failed. Those who do take their own life we are then asked to shame. For why? To hide this. This truth that human compassion failed. Human compassion failed so terribly. More than a person Andrew is part of my consensus reality. Yes his death effected me greatly. A pillar of my childhood collapsed. Under it's own weight, of the weight put on it by others. I wish I was there for him. I failed. It is a mistake I never want to make again. I miss you Andrew. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I did look up to you. I really did. I aspire to write because I saw you do it first. We were in grade 8 and you were writing poems dealing with consciousness. Then they put you in a different school and told me you were sic. Then we were at the mall. I was going to high school with your younger brother. I didn't know what to say to you. I was scared to address the sorrow I wanted to assist in the lie that you were okay or your brain had been damaged. I would read your work. Your brain was very intact. Later on I would see you again. Out in public with the grade 8 teacher who helped convict you. She wreaked of guilt, lost weight and was tutoring you back into society. I was with a girl that our childhood barley acknowledged. I asked how your writing was doing. I remember you wrote some great stuff. And the teacher brushed it all aside. Like his pride was a taboo. I never wanted to leave you out I just didn't know how to ask you to come along. A man I looked up to killed himself. And I wonder where this puts me. Obviously I must keep moving forward. But I never want this to repeat, anywhere I walk forth to. But this storey shall not be veiled in symbolism, for it is the true story of a failure. I am 23 years old. I am sitting on my bed which is a thin mat on the floor. It is 11:35 I just peed for the first time since this started. Still got that feeling

in my throat. If this was like mushrooms I would notice a decrease in symptoms. But this is chemical and not organic and thus above the digestive system. Though there is a peace of paper floating around somewhere inside me. I`m gonna eat some food, see whats that's like. I`m walking around my kitchen eating raspberries laughing. I am making faces in the reflection damn well knowing there is a whole world out there looking in. It always takes myself to remind myself to not take myself so seriously. When I am in this state I am forever alone. Because this is a conversation between me and god. And that god is myself. Beyond all this though I do want to start a family. I like the idea of a mate. Kids fascinate the shit out of me. But I can't do this till I am comfortable in the world, so I may show my children no fear. But is it this love, this compulsive desire to show children a better world that we create so much suffering. Side note Anarchist you have been doing it wrong. Stop shop lifting. Start reverse shop lifting. Show the world we have more than we know what to do with. So start placing things back on the shelves. Dis organize a chain store with new products that arnt in their books. Don't break into a warehouse and take from it. Break in and fill it! Yes their system has hurt us. But vengeance is no means to an end. Flood them with confusion, denial of service attack, manifest in the physical plane. Who needs half their shit anyways. 12:08 Think I may try to sleep this shall be curious. Phone is going back on. I can peer back out into the world. 12:38 I have been lieing in bed but I shall have you know I am a fucking globe trotter. 12:46 Back to space. I miss my dog. He was a good soul. 1:37 I began to type 5:12 Typed!