wisefool

A taste on the tongue in exchange for a heightening of the mood.


"Shock this fucker goddamn it!"

"When the fuck are you gonna learn how to do your gotdam job?!"

Voices spiraled around like some type of tryptic massage on the universe's membranous continuum. Contouring space like an endlessly siphoning fractal spiral that drained into my being with each Pranic inhalation. My head throbbed from containing the thoughts. Everything a low rumble that I laid in like a swamp; interrupted by unabbreviated intermissions of hyperfocused attempts to define the reality around me.

"We need to resuscitate this son-of-a-bitch before we lose him."

'Get the defib and some epi'

Nothing flows from a person endlessly shaken with fear. A person unsteady without continuous guidance. A mind frozen from analysis paralysis. I gotta check myself, before I wreck myself. Continuous deliberate focus is exhausting; should it be? . . . Have you ever met someone who's relentless life effort makes you feel like an exhausted slob?

My vision was cycling through every imaginable color. Speedily viscous and dynamically dysmorphic configurations of color and structure; it was a dizzying panorama that calmed me. There is no vertigo without vestibular connection.

"He's falling into the tessaract of time for Christ's sake! Thump this fucker's chest!"

"How can we save him doc?"

The tessaract of time. Shit. I could see that shit. I was falling into a pixel. An ever-expanding pixel that appeared as if it would eventually bubble into and engulf my entire being; me , then, being the new bubble and the new bubble becoming me. It was a portal into a new physical existence. A new cosmic garment to clothe me. It's approaching to become me, so that I may become it. A ouroboric being falling into its own head. Sinking like a rock.

"Any chances he'll survive doc?"

"Fuck, I don't know. . . . .It'll take a God-bless-ed miracle man! We'll have to suspend his dimensional flow, tether him. He may drift far, far off; But we can tether him. Here, come with me, quick! We can reinforce the atrophying thread of thought that connects him to this world. Regenerate the brain man!"

This bulbous cubic inner dimension began to swallow my hand, my arm reaching into a numbing moist void. I feel things grasping at me from the other side. Its syrupy gelatinous texture of fuzzy darkness continued to coat me like a long sleeve latex of new life. It feels warm, but what ravenous beast is gripping for me so?

"If we bring him back, he can stay and hope to complete his mission. Otherwise, he'll be stacked back onto the pyramid of time, only to perpetuate our collective fall. Grab that ketamine and your bluetooth speaker son."

"The pyramid of time? What the fuck are you talking about doc? This man is dying. Physically dying; he need's chemico-mechanical resuscitation."

"I know gotdamn it. Call the intensivist. Let him continue the algorithm. Also, call a priest. . . or a shaman. . .or a soothsayer or some shit. We need as many vibes in here as possible. We need this place to shake. This may work. It's this fucker's only chance. Give him a rapid bolus , then start the low-dose-K; a continuous infusion for as long as necessary. Put on Tool's new album. We can trap him, then siphon him back into his godforsaken mind."

New visions arose as my eyes conjoined with this black encapsulation. A black and white world. With movement, brownian and fuzzy. Like a static world. That type of dynamic static that buzzes on your television at 3am. One ear then fillled with the dark, freezing Yin that made a schwooping warping sound as it crushed my drum. I could hear muffled tones of joy and surprise. Some happy greedy-sounding fuckers over there. Eager to have me.

All of a sudden, I stopped advancing into the living abyss before me. My inter-dimensional legs buzzed and reminded me of my body. I was poised amongst the physical and metaphysical. I sat there bound between two worlds like the Flammarion Man. Bisected into two realities. A bi-hemispherical bicameral mind with a bisected bipedal body, bioptic, binaural, bimanual being in a tricyclic phase of hard plasmic liquid matter. I halted and took in the experience; of buzzing numbness.

"Let him ride son. He will either feel the buzz or not. Let us give his plastic mind time to reform."

"He'll be back doc, I bet. I bet he will doc."

"I'd bet too son. Either way, it's a gamble. But, at least this way, we know he will appreciate the journey. This way increases his odds of completing his mission. Either way it goes, he will be getting closer to completion. . . Put those headphones on him. We'll come back and check him later."

I hear and see both worlds. Trapped in. Stuck watching two televisions. Living in a duality full of endless dualities. A dyad mind. Growing in two worlds. One witness with two minds. A rotating door of perception. Swoosh. Swoosh. S. s. s.(swoosh)s. s. w. w. w. (swoosh)w.w. o. o. .o(swoosh).sh. sh. sh.

__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.