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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Experience · #1245080
The story of the shaman and the first of our adventures together.
The shaman came in, and blew away my mind. "Throw him, show him you're not afraid to shine." Subconsious took over almost immediately, the colors rising and falling across the landscape that lay ahead. Eyes no longer did their duty, they only perceived divisions that were once dismissed as fictional. Elaborate, every inch in front of me more detailed than anything that had ever existed within the confines of reality. Or was my perception bent to the will of others?  Is there a chance that everything you know is wrong? Do I already know that much of what is displayed proudly before us like a badge of honor, is nothing of subtance and in fact, is bullshit. Maybe what others see as real, I equate to inexistence. That when my body is in another's body, that when one spirit finds another, I shouldn't have to feel dirty. That when millions drunkenly drive expensive, elaborately designed death missiles into one another, people shouldn't feel free to experiment with an alternate intoxicant. Namely Cannabis Sativa, a plant produced directly from the DNA of a beautiful, voluptuous woman named Mother Nature. She was no longer a virgin, man raped and scarred her the first chance he had, mercilessly laying waste to her many wonderous fruits. Many believe she died long ago, that is not a vein statement. However, those who coddle her youth in hope that truth will survive, continue to fight in her name. The shaman and I have eaten and enjoyed the various fruits, plants, and other buds. But for now we must escape from this environment of epiphany, for the ninjas have come to cloud our visions and take our lives. Like they always do.
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