ecstasy extraction

red sore lips
purple breakfast, purple tint
poison has filled my blood
undo
over the edge
spilled
my lips were so chapped they started to bleed
the grand illusion
white widow
red back
gunpowder
are we poisoning ourselves?
synthetic sound … synthetic sound that lingers
permanent glitter
eternal red light
ultraviolet radiation

in bed or @ the rave

she does one more line
melting liquid sounds caress her
silhouettes
as she dances while the sun begins to rise
closing the window as the end is near
poisonous substances allow her to
think clear
she’s broken down by the lines that will
never be cleared
lines up the next one
crafting her own demise
colours of euphoric glow enter her eye
line as the seedless space creates a
subconscious daze
poisonous substances allow her to
think clear

After a year of living in the red-light-drenched streets of Amsterdam, raving became my reality. This passion for figuring out what rave culture was all about ignited within me, intensely pulling me apart, pulling the flesh off my bones as I was transfixed and reborn by intuitively pronounced melting liquid sounds.

My ears melted with it. Abandoned buildings fuelled by illegal techno raves, open drug policies and even more open dance floors. You could come as you are yet leave with an entirely new identity attached. An old school, now a nightclub full of dark rooms that were once classrooms, a private space to feel the allure of connection, queer and gender fluid lines that disintegrated. I was able to leave my existing sexual identity at the door to be reborn into blissful queerness and sexual fluidity. A euphoric escape, a community driven through connection, sound and movement.

The experience is injected and ingested, mesmerising nostalgic escapism: addicted instantly. Somewhere a process starts to begin. The repetitive beats enter into your subconscious. Fluid and hypnotic sounds entice you to stay a little longer here, anywhere but outside these four walls. The feeling encapsulates you. Techno music, the intertwined sounds that ignite a dancing soul buried beneath a capitalist society urging us to work away our time.

Rave reality, small collections of intimate settings, collaborations, connections, music and disk jockeys uniting under crisp night air or the low ceiling of an abandoned warehouse. Spinning tracks we may never have heard, sound waves that have already left lasting impressions on our subconscious. Those melting liquid sounds… instant visuals. Complete magic. Appearing and disappearing.