Pile of rainbow

Took acid in the redwoods this weekend, felt like a soft-serve custard of rainbows. I spit because my fangs were juicing and frothing, every step was heavy because of the lurking animals looking to snout out our condensed milk. We were in a campfire trance when racoons invaded our camp, just a few bold feet away from us. I heard a snotty snort and thought it was a bear and Chanel and I hugged in fear behind a tree while Jackie and John bravely went into the darkness to seek the thief. The banditos: racoons, with their jail stripes and masks. Bandito Sohungry even pawprinted up to us at the picnic table when we were zoning in the dark. I could not see even a foot in front of me. Imagine my fear when I jarred out of my trance to hear paws scurrying away.

I fear wild animals because I can't understand why they haven't tried to fight us for our disrespect and stupidity. I can't believe a dog can endure the embarrassment of shitting on the sidewalk without one day venging with his jaw, you know? I don't understand these creatures but they are my distant brethren and this scrambles my instincts. At this moment I am in a space surrounded by soulless objects, pellets of the human mind, inanimate elements. In the forest, the spongy floors are dense with life, life so mysterious and foreign to me. I feel overwhelmed by the density of the souls and spirits around me, ashamed and fearful enough to want to just retreat to the human world sometimes.

I put my heart and face in the tree's trunk and expressed my affection for 2,000 years. My eyes were crazy and I walked into the campsite's restroom and stammered in a weird accent, "Is this bathroom unisex?" The doctor was taking out his contact lenses and said sharply, "This is the men's room!"