Sunday, February 27, 2011

and that's how i met jesus

I step in the church, head full of acid, full tripping. People like me are a church's wet dream. We babble in gibberish, trying to make our visions of God coherent. We are deeply spiritual people, religious to the core of our being, no funny business. I don't even know why I'm here. It seemed like a good idea several minutes ago, but these kinds of ideas are the most dangerous. It's like thinking breathing underwater is a good idea, or jumping off the tallest building in town because you think you can fly. As I open the door, my head's almost blasted off by the abominable chaos that's going on. The whole damn building's shaking with the pounding of the organ and the gyrating hips, wails, and screams of choir and congregation. I run down the centre aisle, trying to dodge the awful vibes coming off of the walls. This truly is a bad place for psychedelics.

Holy Jesus, it's an orgy in here!
, I yell frantically as I stumble into a pew, coughing into my sleeve what seems to be squirming coloured liquid. I'm going to get incense poisoning if I stay too long. I can already feel it seeping into my skin, making my churning blood evaporate.

A half-dead man looks down at me with vicious savagery and growls, I know. I wish they'd cut it out, it's fucking up my chi.

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