whoops did too much – KKUURRTT

Boom. Floored. In the ground. Tongue lolly-gagging around your mouth and you can’t even ask for help, lifted up and outside your body, looking in. Knocking on the back of the skull saying hello dummy wake the fuck up I know you’re in there. Body feels it but can’t connect to the brain and for a moment it feels like what I’ve always imagined being a freshly dead ghost would feel like. Am I dead? And then you start to really question it: AM I ACTUALLY FUCKING DEAD? DID I TAKE TOO MUCH?! IS THERE EVEN A TOO MUCH ON KETAMINE? THEY DIDN’T COVER THIS IN DARE. Then someone laughs and says “woah man, Roland took too much. He’s in a k-hole.” I’ve heard of those and my body and soul become one again even if they’re not so functional. But now, it’s like, after years of use, is that even possible anymore? We still spoon cautiously because to be good at drugs is to learn from the lessons that you impart upon yourself.

Loosely limber limbs lounge lavishly.
Floating flesh finds functionality
as sensations slowly settle into
maximalistic movements.

Dancefloor dugouts.
Arched backs and

pathways through crowds
until the speaker sounds.


The body moves without the mind commanding.
Up Down Left Right Start and over again to the beat.
Kick drum snare. Boom clap Boom claps. This is what
the body was meant to do. Separate. Really resetting.

The art of the realm of the invisible,
commanding unseen to do thy bidding,
pulling the strings but it’s okay I told them to.