Reallll

I blow the smoke, the smoke turns into a gate, I enter, vacate the walls of my room, enter the flowery smoke, as it blooms it takes me to the road to infinity, I enter, the illusion of the body disappears, slowly transitioning into an unknown place, searching deep with the thoughts, picturing images that are uncertain, but still trying to maintain sanity, exploring the deep states of humanity, using the herb as a light in a dark library, visiting a landmark where others have ventured, a place where there is no origin or centre, just a picture of faded black, white and tropical colours, feelings of love and hate, fear and delight, reality bends and twists, squeezing out its juice until it dries like a fig, and eating it, then questioning the phenomenon of sweetness, the 5 senses are now introspective, while the pineal is the spectacle, calm and tranquil, eyes open, the colours quietly drip, like a caramel stick, back into the room, where on the chair, reality sits