6. Porcelain

I ordered a coffee. Didn’t really want much. It was an espresso. I had ended up in a small, brown artisanal coffee-house after walking to clear my head. From one room to another. I was supposed to meditate earlier, but I said I’d do it later. The constant phone notifications wouldn’t exactly let me forget. I stood to the right side of the counter, beside the pastries, surveying the barista making my coffee as politely as possible. It wasn’t exactly covert in hindsight — just a guy looking up and down from his phone. I’d already picked a seat on the sofa by the wall, close to the window. After bringing my drink there, I laid my left shoulder, with all my body weight, upon the glass window pane — letting the window-frost cool my face. I’d been overthinking lately so there I was: Overheating. I looked around to see all the other people who had nothing else to do that day. People laughing, people talking; Some reading, some working and some minding their own business. The beauty of earphones. All whilst two floating aprons hovered around, clearing tables in the background. I dragged my chin back over my shoulder, scanning the coffee shop: Groups of bohemian art students on the right, two roughly twenty-somethings on what seemed like a date on the mid-right, an elderly couple dressed like twenty-somethings flanking them on their left, while on the mid-left: a girl reading a book with headphones on, and to the far-left: a litter of what-seemed-to-be introverted bookworms. Bohemian in nature too, it seemed. Before I resumed loitering, I quickly rose my head — checking to see if anyone had interrupted themselves to notice how weird I was being. They had not. But as a side note: I had never seen so much leather, oak, and ambient lighting in one space ever in my life. Artisanal coffee to pay for an artisanal commune, genius of a scam. I wish I’d thought of it. No tickets to pay for, just the choice of coffee or awkward looks from part-time graphic designers. But anyway, I sipped my coffee. Slurping with my tongue, hugging onto the underbelly of the porcelain cup, as I vacuumed the hot beverage in the most European fashion I could embody. I then sat, just staring at the pavement outside — my heavy head grailed into my right hand, staring at oblivion, letting my thoughts pass me by. I thought for a while. Just silent, contemplating. Staring at my coffee. It was all a dead man’s game now: I had fled towards the metaphysical planes, and I was already there. I sipped my coffee some more but there wasn’t much left. It was slowly getting colder and heavier, morphing, degrading, degenerating, and I could see the coffee stains ring the inside of the white porcelain coffee cup. Here I was: Lost in translation. And yet, I still had to go home and face my demons.

Some time passed by, and conversations would brush my ear, cars would brush my left eye’s vision. Ambient noise would complement the dimming ambient lights. At this point, other thoughts continued to plague my mind instead of my own. I sat by the window as I watched the rainfall – blank, vacant, but clear at least. I sat doing nothing — somehow awkwardly; Sitting at a four-chair table, alone. Sipping at my cold coffee for twenty-second intervals. The humming of the food fridge played bass to the shop’s shit Spotify playlist. The coffee maker machines followed in accordance. And in my blank stare, my mind allowed in a retrospective of the small but unfortunate events that led me here. Shit. A cultivation and collaboration of mildly disastrous happenings leading towards hopelessness, pain, and confusion. Great… Now abstracted, I stared, at the coffee cradled in my hand. I remembered waking up – No hot water. Checking the meter – No hot water. Canceling my day – No hot water. Wanting to walk down to the coffee shop because – No hot water. Each level just weighed me down and brought other issues with them. Dragging me down lower and lower, deeper and deeper until I couldn’t stay there anymore, otherwise I’d drown. All-of-a-sudden I woke up. I raised my head violently, whipping my head left and right to see if anyone had noticed me daydreaming. Luckily not. My banality kept me camouflaged. I scratched the back of my head, unaware of the floating sweater vests coming in and out in front of me. The mud in my cup had gone cold: I officially had no place there now. I looked out of the window again, staring at the cold evening sky. Just staring. Blue with golden twinkles. I was ogling at the powerlines hanging in the foreground. The birds fluttered in the background, and the clouds dressed beyond. Distracted in observation, my brain faded, suspended in absence. Pungent in emotion, my heart took this chance to speak, bringing forth dreams and movies to my eyes. The bastard… In clarity, I read the questions posed as problems and saw the hints to the code. Problem by problem I unveiled a letter.







A door opened.

door opens






I didn’t.




That one was hard. It took me a good minute to realise.





This was all a shock to me. I had no idea what my heart was trying to tell me; It was encoded. All I knew was: I was getting to know myself for once.

But there was still something left to the puzzle.

I would come to realise that I was afraid that I wouldn’t become the person I wished to end up being, and I’d, instead, become a cog in the machine of a retail job for the rest of my life. But not before knowing why.







The last door opened.

I walked through.

“Oh my fucking God…”

Holy shit.




And there it was: My reason.

Nothing else was needed, all my questions had been answered.

The porcelain had cracked.

All that was left to ask was:

What do I do now?


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\

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


So — here again,
Strange — as always,
Café — in french? typical,
Funny — how we always meet at the stroke of each minute,
Almost — like the last time was a past life,
It Begins — A new encounter each time,
Hugging — at the frontier of a new life, each existence,
Sweet — is the moment, the fruit we eat, the coffee we drink,
The things we say — the moments we share