In death is life

no map
no home
no food
no retreat
only open sky
— and open earth

the world is free
but its resources are not
Each moment is stitched to each other
the strings of the past keep loosening
the next moment is never materialised

- Duty calls to those who lead by following


Home is in the future

starting a new life, is like
letting go of a fire truck

— and holding onto a ferrari


5. Sweet Release (Open−Plan)

4. Repeat

Like a kaliedoscope they glittered above me. Crystallising from thin air. A crown of angels. Like jewels they danced before me, wailing and hailing “Levi, King of Sorrows!”. So I hailed back:

“What the fuck do you want?”

They said nothing,

———————– but one angel drew near.

She lowered my jaw, dabbed her finger on my tongue, then — BANG!

I’m tripping.

(It was like getting shot in the head with a 9mm.

All I wanted was a glass of water…)



It just started as any other winter day. I was bored, stuck inside and family was gone. I had nothing to do so I was just watching Netflix, then I asked myself, “Do I still have acid?”. I remembered that I had some left from when Martin came over. So I said “fuck it, I guess I could do some”. I had half-a-tab in my sock draw anyway. So I got out of bed and reached for the top draw, pulling it out and scooping under all my hand grenade shaped socks to find the tab. “Where is it?…”, A-ha! We’ve got something going here now…

(Talk about initial room settings, briefly, use an action, e.g. getting a glass of water(but delaying it by saying”nah, I’ll just get it later”). Details, Details, Details)

I closed the draw and hopped back into bed, this time in a seated position.

Peeping at the stamp-sized bagee I sift air through my nose, taking one tuck of air into my lungs. I inspected the bagee, seeing the smiley face stare back at me and envisioned all the endless possiblities. I stared for a bit too long. Hopefully my mum doesn’t come back early. I swayed my head just for one last check to see if anyone from the other end of the street can see the bagee of LSD through my window. No? Okay. I pulled the sealing apart, opening the thing like a packet of crisps, and with much grace I dragged the half-tab of acid out of the bag. This thing was colourful. Saturated would’ve been more appropraite. With not much thought I fed the thing into my mouth – laying it just under my tongue. Heart beat was already rising but that was just me being excited. I kicked my feet up the floorand transfer back to lying down on my bed looking at the cieling. Oh boy.

I grew bored of waiting. Netflix wasn’t doing much for me so I said ‘fuck this’, and reached into my pocket to pull my phone out of my pocket. Unlocked it, swiped it, tapped it, watched it. As usual, I scrolled down and again but first double tap then -scroll, double tap, scroll, double tap, scroll, …, nah, scroll, double tap. It would carry on and on and then things started to change… (Talk a bit about the environment getting manipulated, then specific objects in the next paragraph. Obstacles? e.g. Getting a glass of water again)

(The station – opn, rough 7, nevermind – nirvana, too late – washed out, Denzel Curry first album)

2. Take-off -Slight wavering of surroundings/visions


(Kandinsky, monet, youth culture photography) (Blank banshee, gunna, radiohead, tame impala let it happen bathroom song, Szerencsétlen)

A burst of vertigo disrupts my sense of orientation. My sight zooms in and zooms out. I ‘ping!’ out raising my head, stretching my neck like a phone cord, to the Gods. The room metamorphised into a sphere in which a lens is clear cut: Stretching the me like fabric. Each hemisphere of my brain is pulsating, sending wifi signals from my cortex all over the place. Like infrared, my bloodshot eyes autofocus onto the beams bouncing off the walls and mirrors. Light, sound, and colour all taste of gasoline, and the drip the back of my throat tastes of stardust.

3. Turbulence – Disruption into waves (Breaking into the new reality)

Astronomically fucked. Stupendously cogni-fucked. Mentally-ridden without a saddle by Jupiter himself. Why do my feet feel like they’re floating? Oh fuck, my frontal lobe crystalised, meta-cementing itself, contracting like a bicep. I shouldn’t have taken so much… My head expands under the constriction of my headphones. Absorbing the music and the distortion it caused to my vibrating ears, I could feel myself shapeshifting. Like a remote a was now attuned to multiple frequencies at once. I could feel the tectonic plates of my brain grind against each other. FUCK! My eyes would flash and I’d transport each time. My head fell heavy and my neck grew weak. My fingers pulsated with rushing blood running through them. The plasma electrified my fingertips. My legs numbed – It felt like I had flew to space and my legs had detatched so I can burn the turbo chargers. I could feel my feet which were telling me that we had left the earth’s gravity, while my eyes still said there’s a ceiling above me. My vision was washing and waving, everything was fading, I would move my hands across my face and see ten fingers overlapping in a blurry motion. Almost as if a video broken into stills. I saw the colours that surrounded me, fizzing before my eyes – Hazing in grain. I watched upon the heavens where millions and millions of seats were booked in to see me perform this life that I live every day and cheer me on my everyday fight and struggle to win the battle over myself and the forces that conspire against me. I fell to my knees at the introduction to my insignificance. Seeing stars, black holes and nebulae that rivaled the size of my ego and won by a landslide. I felt the grasp of he universal forces hold me in place and peel off my ego and discard it before me like rotten orange skin. Here, I was face to face with my very own ego, seeing it, it’s flaws and it’s hold that it’s had over me for the past ten years. It was at that moment I truly started to witness a vision. But then– Holy shit… Holy shit! I see angels! I see angels, what the fuck?


Oh Boy… All was loud. Nothing but confusion and loud jazz. Nothing was certain, everything I saw was improvised. Matter became illusion and abstract turned all to constructs and concepts. SHOW DON’T TELL.

It took a minute. Bangs and clashes produced thunderstorms in my head, lightning stricking my being. Clenches and half-seizures fought my being. Sectoins Locked, the rigidity caused my brain to harden. The resistence defied itself. The love was still sober. But after poured juice of heaven-water, seasoning the thoughts and intects and flavoring the state of my mind. The clouds unseamed, dissapating like steam form a kettle, the moisture lead to dry clarity.

A surge of plasma radiated from my skull, and my head split open like a banana peel. I dived back into a pool of metaphorical water, drowning out the droning sounds of the local estate beyond my windows. I swear to fucking God I’d never splashed like that.(Gerard Richter, Francis Bacon, illusion techniques)

— Carousel ends/break from the pattern

“You never die so there’s no sweet release.”

4. Ascension(Broken through the clouds/Enlightenment/letting go/arrival)

A minute of silence. The winds stop. The walls remain. I take a deep breath. Nothing happens. The fluid recoils of tenderness wriggle through my brains crevices. Frequencies jostle through my brain meat and I my head balloons, expanding beyond these walls of skin. I don’t know what to do, so I just laid there and let the sprites take over me. First I could feel my first, then I could scrunch my sheets feeling it’s magnimonious texture, dry and crisp like draft paper. I clinged on only to let go and slowly sink into my mattress with duvet engulfing me. It took me a good minute to realise I didn’t know what I was doing. But the music wouldn’t stop. It only got louder and louder. The sound was translucent like plastic, colouring my lucid dream. In ephemera and ecstacy I smiled, then laughed, then I screamed. I screamed. I was free, I was happy. I was in love. The hands of the grip and slid its way down from my neck. Loosening my tie. I laid there jacked up and expanded. Spirit and soul, unlocked. I closed my eyes and just became. My toes loosened, my shoulders dropped, my smile cracked. I was lighter than ever and I had sung, all __ became harmonious. Layered onto each other. Poetry was made, balance was retained, I hovered and hallucinated, letting go. My third day had come, I rose from my soul, out of my body and I span, leaking into the air and absorbing into stratosphere.

I would end only fall asleep.

7. Deliverence

(mattattack426, howiewonder, mr.babies, simplicity, da vinci codex)

Now slowly sinking into darkness, with my eyes closed, a being offerred it’s hand out to me. It was me. (Travelling through james turrell coloured rooms, until finally in white one with open ceiling, the court of doves)

(I became light) Sinking into my dream, I saw myself being sacrificed. Mid-air my skin shredded, my muscle fibres unravelled like ribbons. My fat within my breasts disolved and my body fizzled into noise, shedding all that barred flight. All that was left as a pale, gelatinous, mould of a human being. Evaporating into gas, the figure open its eyes with yellow beams shooting from it’s eyes. With it’s eyes open it rose from the slab, higher within the infinite white. With a pale yellow radiating behind it, I saw the infitine black constrict from the sides. With open arms, floating, the being looked at me, then looked up, letting itself fade out. The with one last suck-in, it blew white across the dimensions

5. Cruise/Voyage/En route — moving forward. Shortest one.

I awoke the next day, nonchalant to what had just happened, to a new life, a new repetition, a new routine. I rolled around, looking for my phone: It was nine a.m. I heard my call. I sat up in bed, feeling better. Something felt right. My room was fine, and my mum wasn’t back yet. I transitioned towards the edged of my bed. The sun was rising, the house was clean. In astonishment, no one was home, and I was alone. How it should be. Refreshed from the depths of my dream, knocked out and revitalised, I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, watching the skyline. I drank my water then stepped back. I stopped to reflect on everything achieved and encountered within the last 12 hours. I realised my fate and I accepted my new course:

Take-off. Turbulence. Ascension. Repeat.

I awoke feeling like shit(Show don’t tell). My mouth was dry, it felt like Arizona. My joints aching and stiff. I went out to the toilet, pulled my trousers down, and whipped out the little one. My piss was coloured in rust. I stretched, tearing the strands that make my flesh. My face wrinkled, droopy, oiled. Somehow still flaky. I felt like shit, but I didn’t forget what happened.

Use last paragraph to really use some poetic language; look at photos by @ howie wonder, mr babies and mattattack426 and bridget riley, george condo and Francis Bacon. Look into illusion techniques, brain puzzles, kaleidoscopes and the da vinci codex. Regular show too. Expand it then condense it. Bring some of the story from the previous draft too. Listen to high music.

Bland muted Contasting- colourful Colourful Light

neutreal(Still give it some punch Sand Hard Soft Fluid

The universe becomes my stadium.

Use writing notes from journals, finish adding ket experiences, read some science things, watch recounts of lsd experiences

Add sensing and intuitive details and actions of environment in first paragraph

Add rejected material below

A surge of plasma radiated from my skull, and my head split open like a banana peel. I dived back into a pool of metaphorical water, drowning out the droning sounds of the local estate beyond my windows. I swear to fucking God I’d never splashed like that. My eyes flashed white while my brain fried and my fingers retracted like sushi rolling matts.

I was getting shot in the head with a 9mm. Suddenly I was bending backwards towards the ground from which I came and felt the colours surrounding me, fizzing towards eyes. My vision was washing and waving oh-no, here we go again. I think I’m tripping.


out of touch, out of place, out of this world

Kurt Vonnegut tips

Edit like last time

reading through your writing a few times to tighten and tweak, though – but an important part of the process to get used to – you might want to print it and write on the sheets, or save different copies so you can see the evolving versions)

Refer to notebook and board, then add to board from note book

Use notes from notes app for porcelain and add to board

Add urban elements of room

Make sure it’s all one tense

Take-off. Turbulence. Ascension. Repeat.


Fade 2 Black

So he started writing, but then
he started thinking...

Risky Business

Wish you well,
the nights aren't as cold anymore

Here come the tears, but
we both knew summer was coming

Pass the salt

Grit my teeth\
Cut my sleeve\
Die in peace\
Pass my genes\

From Amia to Levi

Pain. It’s always been there. It was here then, and it’s here now. I’ve come back to new walls and new surroundings. My love for others, rotten with the need to be loved, wanted, valued – by organisms outside of myself. My search for love has been reclassified as a want for meaningful connection. The sudden change is frustrating. I can feel the friction of this life with my old. I can’t continue to carry the baggage of my parents’ negative thought patterns, or the hatred towards those who belittled me in the past. This new future, this present, won’t seem to let me.

So I’m dying, purifying. At the moment, I am lost and so is Levi. Huh… Levi… He’s new. I met him, not too long ago, but he was just a voice — now apparently the true master of this human’s soul. Interesting… Don’t get me started on Felix. I don’t even know who he is. Never met the guy. But, he’s been taking care of the vessel so I guess he’s ok. The vessel has been looked after but I need looking after too. I need that. I need love. I’m so hurt. I’ve been so starved. I need something. I’ve been questing for world domination just to hurt those that inflicted pain onto me so long ago and those I believe didn’t support me when I needed them — or at least someone. Through this process, I’m learning that approval should come from within instead of outside, but I’m so empty inside. Well, there’s just a lot of pain that I don’t want to look at.

The weight of these expectations crushes me. “I should be THIS”, “I should be THAT”, “They should’ve done THIS”, “I NEED this”, “I NEED that”. I apparently need everything to be perfect so I don’t need to look inside, or look back. Yet I continue to exist as a being gripped by the talons of the past. Truly, I want something more. I have wings, but I’m not even grounded, I’m chained — by string. The mind is what keeps me attached. Guarded by the patterns indoctrinated into me by those around me who couldn’t love themselves. And with their lack of self-love and self-respect, they lacked the resources to assert themselves righteously so instead they bullied me. Now I sit here lacking the same. Yet, what Levi and Felix have built seems to be amazing — but how do I fit into it? How can I help? How can we terraform the landscape to unlock the vessel’s full potential and all of our own?

A memory reappears: My secondary school music teacher, Mr. Pope. Reminding me of a good deed I committed, that only he witnessed. He told me that that was who I am. Someone who helps people. Someone empathetic for others. He would also tell me how my parents could be partly responsible for some of the pain in my life. That day, I helped someone. I need to heal Babi. I need to heal young Amia. But at what point? When did I start hurting and stop giving?

I never stopped. My problem was that I gave too much — to the point of unnecessary self-sacrifice and self-humiliation, all for the gratification of a few bruised egos. Never Again.

True Love doesn’t carry, it sustains. Balancing between true love for self. Connected. Friendly. Happy.

How do I work? How do I need love? What is the wound that isn’t healing? How do I need to be supported? What do I want? Whereas Levi and Felix are hard workers, I find that I’m more of an artistic temperament. My attributes, yet unmastered, are those of a beauty and sociable kind. Whereas currently superficial, if humble enough to undergo training and reformation, I could develop only to fufil my potential and my role towards how I play this game of life. I bring freedom, flexibility, and modernism to a team that is strong, stable, masculine, competent but rigid and one-dimensional. There must be compromise and I don’t expect to be a ruling class in this 3-way partnership. But I do hope to contribute to the team in a way that is valuable to the team and valued within the team. I still can’t work out who’s hurting more from the change. Whilst I’m being burnt and burnt again, Levi and Felix are having their whole worlds and systems broken and warped. So life’s not feeling too great right now for either of us. But I like to think we both understand the nature and necessity of this process, as this is the process that incurred our previous metamorphosis/journey/death/rebirth in the first place. It seems harder to end now than it was to begin, because at least we hadn’t built what we left behind. Now we have to move on from what we thought was the final result — but only the stepping stone for the next journey.

But the questions still stand: How do I work? How do I need love? What is the wound that isn’t healing? How do I need to be supported? What do I want? How can we all work together, in harmony? Levi was about work, discipline, authenticity, mindfulness, internal power, self-respect, self-mastery, self-assertion, competence, service. I, Amia, in brightest terms, was about helping others, empathy, art, beauty, giving love, freedom, adventure, connection, knowledge, enthusiasm, risk. How do I need love? I need to value myself.


To Service

At this time, that I’m writing this, I am suffering. My mental health is deteriorating and I feel like I’m losing myself. I feel so low and feel like I need someone to talk to. But, seeing as my problems are so tedious, I’d only push those close to me away. It always tend to happen. I don’t know.

I need to serve, and it’s my drug. Both in the abstract/idea realm and the real, physical realm. It feels like we’re all struggling with real-life at the moment. I feel such pain driven by confusion, frustration, misalignment. I sought adventure and deviation and now I’ve found loss. I’m lost. Don’t know how to get back — Don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.

People seem to continually advocate for submersion and compliance. But I only seek participation. I just want to help and a reason to be alive. A reason to do, a reason to think, a reason to create. Values. I want a mind that focuses on things in the real world instead of just abstract topics. At least finding places that facilitate this. I am God and God is me but I’m not here.

I need to have reasons to go outside. I don’t need to completely live in the city, but give myself opportunities to open my mind. I need a way to function in the city. Why do I want to? I want to have an effect on this planet, and I can’t just do it sitting in my room. I can’t be human by staying in my room. I guess, allowing myself to be flawed.

I need to change my relationship to the environments outside my home and around my home. I need purpose and to feel safe. I need nourishment. It’s hard for me to even feel like I should have emotions. I cherish intuitions but not my emotions or mental health. I just want balance. To explore and to retreat. But what do I have to explore? If my mission is to serve, what’s my bliss? Chasing the sun? I want to be centred. Able to move or stay. Whatever I prefer. I must find my own way of communicating and processing.

I’m sad. I have to expand. I need to change but I don’t know how.

My life is getting reshuffled.


Scratch and Sniff

Hey there,
what's happened
to the moaner,
broke first
that broke
the puff in 
the first
now an'
pushed me to the
brink of death in
the first pl-
IN aLL My ...
puff. . . oh ok.
That's cool
let's go


I thirst for more

----------------Body Parts
The Fall continues

Darkness's will haunts in translucence
Letting you see what you're losing
As you fall deeper into the pit

--------------------------------No chance
The Cycle remains fixed

Ghosts sing songs of self-hatred
Their siren chants spread their hollow form
The sparkle of their tears dazzles their victim

The Personal Power sleeps

One stays isolated, trapped, in a world with bars made of perception
Heavy, is the crown of thoughts and feelings
My actions do not show my screams, but my habits do show my night terrors

----------------------------Swelling of the heart
The Insecurity self-sustains

The dreams awaken the eyes
Moments of introversion revelate
Prison becomes sanctuary
The Waters That Be induce chemical reactions

Light to water, water to body