The writing
Short work, mostly written between builds. Consciousness, connection, and the strange rooms in between.
Tripping in the Dollhouse
The first bump of 3mmc is long gone, but the 4mmc is lingering. It won't let go. It's infatuated with me. Warm and buzzy. Deeply revealing and simultaneously confusing. More 3mmc?…
The Purpose of Consciousness
I am sitting in a dog park in St Albert. I took in 3 big breaths of N,N DMT. And while I didn't have some breakthrough experience of my ego dissolving and becoming some thing…
Little Slice of Hell
You are never as exhibitively candid As in the throes of passion. There your soul bared And your urgency And desperation, complacency Or command Is primal and loud... It is where…
5MeO-DMT Day
The day started with me getting up, doing my morning routine then driving to Red Deer to work at Nolan’s house. I worked in his upstairs bathroom, removing tile, patching, and…
Baby Teeth in a Jar Beside the Bed
Baby teeth in a jar beside the bed Have a smell Like baby's breath Fermented and distilled Into spirits That never float off of the floor, They sink in a river of complacency And…
Sunshine Mourning
Take in the sound as a whet; the crunching of snow under the night where frost waits for the air's embrace. There peers the solitude breath of nothing less than insignificance and…
The Wendigo
It was cold. The night licked at every crack in my drafty abode like a perverse harlot. She was out there. Peering through the thin part in my curtains through the dimming…
The Man and the Boy
He looked up at The Man discerningly, but then confidence in his curiosity faltered, and he looked back down at his little hands. The Man's hands were calloused and rough, they…