Literature
Psychedelic Warrior
I warned her...
when my brain kicks back on,
things get ugly. Days blurred
under drugs: mescaline, DMT,
sedatives, barbiturates, propofol.
I couldn’t track what I took or
what kept spinning in my head.
Expected weirdness? Sure.
Maybe a few hallucinations.
This was different.
The apartment looked like a
savage animal had destroyed
it. It was covered in blood and
what resembled brain matter
and intestines.
I checked my body.
Arms and legs. Half-sure
I’d torn myself open. Fine.
No wounds. The smell was
metallic and rotten, thick
enough to gag.
What had I done? My memory
was fried...static, glitches, flashes
of violence and mayhem with no
story behind them.
I walked ...
barefoot, feeling the floor
cling to me, while shards of glass
pierced deep into my feet.
That now resembled raw shredded
meat.
No witnesses. No answers. No one
else around. Just me stumbling
through the mess.
I braced for sirens or a knock at the door,
but nothing came. Only the