emotionutrition:

			collection of disparate lights

Hard is the music loud is the light.

I recall with awe that terrifying day.  The mountain weak beneath my feat.
That day, it was too easy, too simple, rising up on human chairs of steel, it
wasn't right.  I would pay.  No mountain tolerates such perversity, in
any form.  And so, muscles tense, bones near breaking, I bombed that mountain,
its slopes unusually gentle, as if to spurn a feeble sense of security not in
mind but in body where thoughts, in their absense, left pain and discomfort.
Returning home with such feeling, body spoke to mind:  drugs, it said.  Release
this pain.  Do not let such a beast, the mountain YOU have conquered, abuse me
this way.  Mind saw no abuse...only thoughtlessness.  Yet cowardice prevailed,
and in came the drugs.  Seated in that chair, that vile easy chair, body
grinned favorably upon mind, as drugs replaced thoughts and suffering
diminished.  Walls spun, tunes throbbed, other bodies jerked about.  Mind knew,
mind knew mind knew.  As it raised body and drug to peripheral superficial
heights mind in an instant saw as body mind and drug plummetted that mountain
that weak feeble mountain loomed in a flash.  And then kerplunk without
exaggeration.  We all hit together and all mind could see was that mountain.
It occupied thought and space and sound.  Waves of thoughtlessness streamed
through body, painlessly, because of the drug.  All rose and withstood
severity; body, in its increased state of discomfort screamed more, while that
fucking mountain that horrid distant mountain pummelled over and over and
over until mind lost thought and gasped drug in despair.  Mind body thought
mergedand produced stomach as all lay to rest, weak beneath its feat.

						(adam r)