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Life Aint Nuttin But Pill Poppin an Cripwalkin.


Guest IcedOutMocha

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Originally posted by FABRIKATOR

AMETUR HOUR IN HERE, YA'LL NEED TO STEP UP TO THE PLATE, AND GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS ON SOME OXYCOTTON, OR MAYBE SOME 1500mg CODINES AND STOP LYIN TO YOURSELFS, YOU'LL THANK ME LATER

 

 

fuck that shit, dirty pharmacy style drugs are the ones i dont trust

 

 

 

 

(N,N-dimethyltryptamine)

 

 

 

The first thing was a sense of dropping away, but to say downward would be too simple. There were all sorts of frequency modulations and crescendoed stacatto pops as the trip descended. This sound data was quiveringly involved with these visual architectonic dream waters that were beginning to emerge, dripping and slipping amongst themselves, and my being became overwhelmed by vacuous, gravity-like suction experiences which impelled me further in. Around me I felt a crowding in of beings as if the Celtic Faerie land of Fay had become momentarily co-present with where I was. I sensed them, but did not experience these creatures. The sucking experience took over for a while then, driving the morphological acrobatics of spacelove that lay before me. There was something about it that makes me think of a voluptuous alien seductress with big, fat lips pulling me to her body in the weirdest feeling embrace ever. It felt like I was being smeared sensually and lustfully around the space in some sort of vacuum-tube funhouse. At this point (maybe a minute into the experience) I started picking up something like the Escher painting of all those sets of stairs with figures descending by all manners of gravity, only its surfaces were emerald isles of what I can only describe as fractal Medusa liquid, serpentine and sexy. There was a thought that I was in a room full of aliens and they were playing with me, but that somehow they had conspired to make me this way - the alien carney music bar on the planet Tatooine in the Star Wars trilogy seems relevant.

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