I N T E R M I S S I O N
IN BLISS, HEADING INTO THE FUTURE IN
AN ENDLESS EPIPHANY OF JOY
Sorry I’m late. Spirallianz. In out through. Yes, I'm here, honey. Sissy is playing with her candycane holahoop yes it's so fun to be a girl and play with a lollihola hoop. And I'm waiting for the mushrooms to come to fruition. And we like to play with our superduper holahoop, we like to make psychedelic things with our holahoop especially the candycane hola.
―Make no choice, Mr, says Sissy. I've lost my fear to what appears; the world is ours. And so after a pink drink down at the bar I was thinking where is my Butterfly, where is my heavenly roses? And I found them slipping around in the comfort of our psilodigitized dreamworld, giggling at me because I don't have any money and still somehow manage to survive.
―Our resourceful little mushroom boy, they called me and giggled.
We found it. We found it. We found the pattern. We know the pattern. Flesh and dream intermingle in a strange tangle, the trick's algebra written in dust on butterfly wings. Like mercury we poured ourselves into History from our abode outside of Time, left a pearl in a dream and then left. Right on the spot we have now landed with our heads in and throughout Everything, the umbra shadow of our umbrella adumbrating the foreknowladge of the surfacing of the secret we made up with mother Conception. We are neither living nor dead and the Goddess, the Queen, is slowly undressing in a cacaophoney epiphany of seduction and infernal lust. She wants us. We are being groomed to be able to tolerate her splendor. The black holes in our eyes lead to the end, to beyond the end. Time slips like a glove around our soul. This is it. Eve's skin touches her lovers, a first touch of what was once a fantasy. A song is a song, says Terence. Eve is Eve and Love is the miracle of the Devil's Paradise. 5 billion tons of psilocybin pitch God into the ultimate. It is being delivered. Disguised, the Queen and her angels enter the Garden. The trick is all set up. Presents are being
delivered to friends by tracks like ghosts on the path before you in the great hallucination, as if they had been on the path before you. Satan disguises himself as a young boy and slips into History unnoticed. His wives whisper to him all of the secrets. The Queen stings him with her poison kiss, inserting the last detail in the miracle. Sissy smiles in Satan's youth and looks at him with secret eyes. A perfect disguise. The psilocybin universe transforms in a tetraflop of impossible untanglement of all details possible and needed in order for Love to be with the one Loved. It was as simple as that, said Bianca and flew into her soul again. Follow the plum in the impossible box. O, my snow whites of amazing graze, you sharp puss, o your sharp edge, mmmmm, o dare me. 3-2 to you, Butterfly. And 2-1 to me. So sharp, so so sharp.