ComaProphet
Rising Star
Sometimes after (or during) SWIM's trips he writes about the bizarre world of psychedelia that he encounters in his unique style of writing.
I'm going to use this thread to post those entries in his collection of "psychobabble"
Subordinate Mind
Jaw stuttering in mid-waltz chill, carved out from chalked stone granite, were the last thoughts of the evening. They were hinges flung open in the hidden flesh of a vegetable intelligence, ready to close in on eternal slumber, or so it had seemed. A mandala of sirens soared through the midnight squeal that rang heavy on the ears, cold kiss of audio hallucinations singing paralyzed lullaby's. A coma made its way into the wishing well and chocked the coin toss pipe-dream to a blueish shade of suffocation, mending hope to the life support of creative impulse. It made shade in the winter air, clasped souvenir tears on a return flight from tomorrow to now, arriving early to the graduation dinner. Those final thoughts of a candle light eve made silly remarks in my fingertips, in an effort to brush away the straight face of redundant fate... giving rise to rhythm and taking ease on reason. Letting the mind fly freely.
-Matty
I'm going to use this thread to post those entries in his collection of "psychobabble"
Subordinate Mind
Jaw stuttering in mid-waltz chill, carved out from chalked stone granite, were the last thoughts of the evening. They were hinges flung open in the hidden flesh of a vegetable intelligence, ready to close in on eternal slumber, or so it had seemed. A mandala of sirens soared through the midnight squeal that rang heavy on the ears, cold kiss of audio hallucinations singing paralyzed lullaby's. A coma made its way into the wishing well and chocked the coin toss pipe-dream to a blueish shade of suffocation, mending hope to the life support of creative impulse. It made shade in the winter air, clasped souvenir tears on a return flight from tomorrow to now, arriving early to the graduation dinner. Those final thoughts of a candle light eve made silly remarks in my fingertips, in an effort to brush away the straight face of redundant fate... giving rise to rhythm and taking ease on reason. Letting the mind fly freely.
-Matty