Calm, Cool and Collected

There are few things that surpass the fascination of this feeling: I just smoked a small bowl, and am now currently listening, nay, living the music that is violently flooding the sound waves. I love the ability to be able to detect every minute note and small music capsule, each of which has a unique sound from the past and present sounds. Every single one has its own distinct volume of pleasure, and this is collectively built up upon hitting the ear drum. The accumulated euphoric bliss breaks, and is diffused through out the brain, slowly placing itself in nice, warm, cozy crevices like fire hiding out in a forest. There it burrows deeper into the forest-like brain, spreading more contentment to wherever it settles. The pleasure burns down trees of pain and suffering through the mere seconds of bombardment, causing it irrefutable damage. Soon the giant trees grown in an anguish-rich soil are all scarred irreversibly with burn marks, and are blackened with the fire’s trademark. This is left for eternity as a reminder of the ferocious pleasure that spread with ease through out the brain, all caused by the simple sounds and fancy silence flowing through the airwaves.