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Wednesday, 15 July 2026

ATAI Burrhole (draft/unfinished)

 


They are playing a game. They are playing at not playing a game. If I show them I see they are, I shall break the rules and they will punish me. I must play their game, of not seeing I see the game. 

R.D. Laing

The Ideal looks down 

on Beckley Foundation  

flora in calyx light against rain 

decanted socially conscious

capital against the fen,

the people as the largest gravity fountain

in the world its annular nozzle

emerges as a ring, not a column

Holy Lady parterres to wild neuralink 

outside what has been bored to protocode

& a tower was another way 

of naming heaven done in the home  

that evil air may breath out

ritual entheogenic stones

or internal disorders of the head

cant get the beauty

inside polyethylened brainblood 

cored to the volume of no music

& pain is what the person says hurts


Every moment in business happens only once.


Air fielding holier then the rift of poetry   

corollas dim flow of rheum over time 

disappearing The Common Sense Group

stars killing over-flying birds 

in Rachmaneqsue Major 

as light was coming in

to bleach everything again

the glass & venous valves

'I can hire one half of the poets to kill the other half'

but this is not enough 

beauty inside obsidian breath 

cavity barriers bringing forth dead Child 

the seeing stones on Baby Rock

unlocks Regeneration Hole TMO

in the MotherHead the psychic light

ether people of nowhere

compèred malicious

brios underwriting themselves

the outside stereoed neuropeptides 

the most silent political voice in battleship grey

after secession, exodus

after orchards exit gates gardenia-scented

100 flacons heartbeat in the brain

songs out of datasets gentle euphoriants

Helion & Oklo glass hearted zero to one 

it hurts like the Arctic Circle

like a sacred fire

& I love to shut my eyes 

in Civet rooms at HQs of luxury brands

with extra-thick doors 

preventing it from seeping out

below the hedonic zero 

words have no smell their souls 

aseptic in entrails Gilles le niais

minimising pain on the pedosphere

ambrettes smothering voices

go back to the start

the cruelty-free beach 

once mined lasts forever