(no subject)
A simple cloud of haze is cast over last night, im not sure how to describe it or even begin to describe the phases of matter that passed before my eyes as i sat through every single frame of a single person's emotions possible. All i can remember is what passed over my head, the brew of subconscience that boiled over the lip of the pot that hazed through my lungs. I could see the progression of art, from its very roots in sketches slowly building the environment around me, my mind seperate and functioning on its own as my body lay forgotten on the carpet. A state of pure mental grace beyond anything i could have felt in reality just covering me like a winter blanket over my half passed out body, zoning in on the trippyness that swam amongst the sponge paint over the wall. I was nothing more than a carpet fiber, existing solely on my own and waiting to be walked upon, waiting to exist as one with the rest of the carpet and become something that was designed to work in harmony with a million other fibors identical to my makeup and personality, the opposite of the human race, where everyone has their own makeup and wiring that can completely blow the mind out of proportion, the endless possibilities just waiting to be discovered at first conversation, ignored by our judging tendencies toward people who are out of reality due to their own decisions.