Thursday

...

Artificial click, crackle, exhale.

Pot does wonders for the soul.

Fantastic colours, glimmering in intensity, overlaid upon a bed of smoke, twirling fractal spirals dispersed by whispering voices nobody knows, constantly changing tongues speaking hieroglyphics in inhuman situations. Ego death, de-personalization and associated acts in a shy circus surrounding your competence.

Piss.

Paint.

Smoke.

Critique.