So I lie a yoga mat down on my cold basement floor praying I don't get interrupted by someone poking my forehead asking "what the hell are you doing?" I had tiny success with A-bomb, French roast and a couple others at the time but nothing vivid. Being a bit of an exhibitionist psychonaught with tangibles to begin with my philosophy was to give myself a swift kick in the ass rather than use any discretion, so after a few hours of lying down bored in white noise I busted out GoH as an act of defiance towards what was becoming boredom.
It was like any other dose at first, but after a while I drifted away. Not above, inside or anywhere near myself. I disappeared altogether and became an inanimate spectator of something frightening slowly but surely manifesting, trading places with the beats. It started like crackling of a small campfire, but the sound of fire intensified until it was the largest, hottest, deepest and most frightening sound in the way you would think of hellfire as horrifying epic. Once the fire hit it's peak I heard the muffled sounds of people suffering, screaming and groaning in agony. I wasn't aware I was so familiar with such a genuine sound of suffering until then. Suddenly I was in the fire. Not burning, just a spectator to disgusting sounds so vivid they became visual. It was like I was a piece of brimstone at the bottom of what I had decided was a pit. I couldn't take it anymore.
By now I had forgotten I was awake, lying on the floor wearing headphones. I sprung up swinging my arms around frantically for a moment until my earbuds ripped out, I opened my eyes and came to. All I could think was "who the hell enjoys that?" My second thought was "SWEET IT WORKED!"
Lol.
