Psychedelic Rage.

Thoughts are psychedelic creatures in their own power.
Creatures, of the deepest dark,
they absorb your mind, it's not safe to wander through that forest of thoughts.
The possibility of being swallowed and spit out into another dimension are greater than you can imagine
its purely psychedelic.

encountering suppressed thoughts, thoughts which are formed into encounters who have been lurking about for some time, all those times when you didn't let your guard down, all those times you've felt fine they've been there
waiting for a weak point to shove the needle through your mind.

the idea of feeling fine turns into the thought; that feeling fine is not a promise nor a fact.
it's a psychedelic illusion, a privilege of psychedelic monsters raiding your mind
who are able to take that privilege from you at anytime while you're observing the conscious of your subconscious.

Gloomy mists of acid laced splinters rotten into your mind, its a part of you, you can't control it.
control is an illusion in its self. Feeling fine is a privilege once again.

just you and your thoughts alone, variegated emotions taking over and are overpowered by hate, anger and disappointment,
it's a state of fragile beings weakened by their psychedelic creatures, constantly reminded of their hated and suppressed thoughts.
Thoughts that have disappoint us as persons, as beings, as the way our inner self is projected at the outside world.

Getting out of this state is uneasy, your thoughts are inevitable,
you have to wait it out, wait it out, 'till they're burning you out, wait it out, 'till you're barking in tongues and
thoughts of disgust from the splinters rust.
wait it out. you have to wait it out. scream, hit and punch, it doesn't matter it feeds their temper.
try to forget, try not to remember. Suppress them, redeem your privilege of feeling fine.
Dismembering the psychedelic Monsters is your chance of being free.
If only freedom its self was not an illusion.

-A_Riot