blueskine
D.
Early evening, low western sun coming through white sheer curtains. Push play on Coil's album, Time Machines, track #3 (5-MeO-DMT). Laying almost flat on the couch as the pipe touches the lips and the flame brings a place that is not familiar. Eyes wide open as the room swirls into itself.
This is not my home, like a memory of a place of childhood.
The tone of the music seems to play off the tin elven music and even at points clashing in a hypnotic fashion.
As the world slowly fits back into place, the bass starts to vibrate the walls like a plane preparing to land. Eyes close to catch the tapestry that had been painted behind the shadow of the lids. Deeper still the bass rumbles until the silence.
...eyes open, everything is as it was.
This is not my home, like a memory of a place of childhood.
The tone of the music seems to play off the tin elven music and even at points clashing in a hypnotic fashion.
As the world slowly fits back into place, the bass starts to vibrate the walls like a plane preparing to land. Eyes close to catch the tapestry that had been painted behind the shadow of the lids. Deeper still the bass rumbles until the silence.
...eyes open, everything is as it was.
