Mental Echoes

“When people go insane, they are actually seeing deeper than most of us.”

– Colin Wilson, The Glass Cage





 A few rats ran for an undefined mission, scurried around, their beaks open: ‘Be high!’ Their telepathic mutant brains were abruptly cut off.  Slow mental echoes continued to reverberate for several minutes in my forehead. ‘I’m getting feedback – nineteen percent!’ Eager for an opportunity to serve, the Mad Poet was very much afraid – what if he was normal again? I stood up, my ears ringing. Why nineteen percent? ‘That’s all we need,’ cried Doll Mother. Such a chance. It suggested just a slight tremor in space-time. ‘Just a tremor,’ said the Mad Poet, ‘like, present assignment done. To get out of it.’ I couldn’t believe that yarn. But the Mad Poet was staring at something, horrified. Something bright caught my eye – a wallet, spilling radioactive dollar bills. Glowing softly in the darkness they looked alien and brittle. Doll Mother saw them too. She glanced around, met my eye. We had known each other before the beginning of time.










Pretty Things – LSD (1966)



Peter Bies © 2012


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