Citation: nervewing. "Winter Death, Glitterbomb Shrapnel: An Experience with 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MEO-PCE & 4-AcO-DPT (exp113791)". Erowid.org. Nov 16, 2019. erowid.org/exp/113791
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T0:00 10 mg 3-MeO-PCP oral, 3 bumps of cocaine, intranasal
T~7:00 20 mg 3-MeO-PCE intranasal
T~9:00 20 mg 4-AcO-DPT intranasal
T~12:00 5 mg 3-MeO-PCP intranasal, 10 mg 3-MeO-PCE intranasal, 10 mg 4-AcO-DPT intranasal
What a waste of time- a week spent being a degenerate in the dead of winter, every dark day colored by a languid hedonistic blur of dissociatives and benzodiazepines. I went through the motions of seeing friends, sustaining my relationships, running the occasional errand, rarely feeding myself- the moments of clarity stained by an obsessive occupation with getting altered, a body on autopilot, a vehicle for consuming more drugs. Self-deprecation and self-loathing become a sinking cycle and seemingly the only logically viable lens for introspection.
3-HO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCP, 2F-DCK, and a steady stream of etizolam were entertaining glimmers in an otherwise idle and useless being. Fueled by chemicals, I had resigned myself to my dependency and rendered myself impotent with my fixation on getting high. It was an exponential skyrocket on a perpetually creeping trend of poor coping skills that had become entrenched years ago. Potential futures with no access to drugs became a looming existential nightmare.
Truly, what was I gaining from it anymore? Drugs no longer felt exploratory, novel, or useful anymore. My lifeblood was hedonism, just enough to sustain any will to keep drifting through time. I was teetering on a precipice, over nothing, or some terribly dull something. I was awake until 6 or 7 in the morning most days. It was usually dark already by the time I woke up again, A self-inflicted polar winter.
On this particular January day, I again, woke up late in the afternoon. My roommate had a small birthday party planned later that night. Until then I decided to make myself somewhat useful and run a few errands in the neighborhood. A few bumps of cocaine gave me the jolt I needed to fold laundry. A capsule of 10 mg of 3-MeO-PCP was taken before setting out to get some things from a nearby drugstore, timed perfectly to creep up on me right as I was getting home. At least I was fairly competent at this. I was stimulated, buzzing and decidedly in motion, with little in the way of expectations or plans for the rest of the night. Just existing in the present, with a perpetually worsening stray idleness. The air outside was swirling with cold.
The day and night wore on, as the drugs wore off, and I felt entirely sapped of energy. I intended to hang out with my roommate’s friends for a bit but now felt 0 desire to socialize or talk to anyone. My partner asked to hang out and I coldly rejected them and stated I would prefer to be alone, to just hide away in my room and be on drugs. What pleasure. I eventually got bored of course and went out to interact with people, which led to the discovery that it had begun to snow substantially outside. I have historically always been a proponent of combining drugs and the serendipity of the weather, so I naturally saw this as an opportunity to seize on. The first part of my plan was set into motion, a bump of about 20 mg of 3-MeO-PCE. I socialized awkwardly a little more as my gentle and familiar favorite dissociative crawled up my neurons, a reassuring nostalgia of some time when doing drugs felt at least somewhat healthy and productive. Things wound down around 2 am as the deep night witching hour snow slipped its icy soft hand over the breath of the city outside.
I returned to my room, took my regimen of nausea abatement, and snorted 20 mg of 4-AcO-DPT. Snow continued to fall outside. I planned to catch the sunrise by the riverside in the thick of the storm, a potential glorious wintry chorus at the climax of the night. An anxious nausea crawled up my neurons, my synapses sparking with glittering arcs, a nervous firework display, iridescent discharges crackling at the tips and tendrils of my existence. 3-MeO-PCE has already become established in my lexicon as an aggressive and fiery potentiator of pretty much everything else, and even here in the downturn of my previous dose it clutched the new drug in my system and soared into the sky with it like a vitreous osprey grabbing a sputtering prismatic fish, the water dripping from it catching golden sunlight like a shower of sparks. A newfound energy charged into my extremities, electrifying my muscles.
A newfound energy charged into my extremities, electrifying my muscles.
Every movement felt so exact and precise, I was invigorated with what felt like a supernatural control over my motor skills, every movement exactly where it need to be, exactly how it needed to be, every bit of momentum perfectly compensated for. Everything my eyes fell upon was taken by immaculate beauty, multicolored auras and shuddering tracers and afterimages accompanied every movement of my ocular muscles, while every surface that could accommodate it became adorned with an intricate iridescent relief. The shadows of a more beautiful world being cast upon ours.
I danced around in these invigorating and blossoming feelings of confidence and competence as a means of killing a few hours. Every sense I experienced and ability I expressed felt heightened, I felt far superior too my regular self. This was objectively proven wrong by several failed tests of ability, but I chose to ignore that.
I internalized some vague objective of experiencing “awe”, something terrifying, something wonderful, something dizzying in its scope, yet immediately recognizable in its grandeur. Something like God, or some similar idea. When the time came I geared up and bundled up, each garment, each layer, each object on my person carefully selected to optimize maintaining comfort while out in the blustery cold. One final preparation- a glitterbomb of a booster shot, a single line containing 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE and 4-AcO-DPT spiked straight into my face. It landed, and awaited detonation.
The night was dead still and silent when I set out, save for the glimmering cascade swirling around me, glittering flecks of the icy sky decorating and dazzling my coat like a million rhinestones. The streetlights radiated halos around them, catching the sparkling crystalline breath that had overcome the world. There was a lull in the trip at this point, allowing me enough lucidity to navigate the now alien landscape. I was utterly alone, on this snowy night at 5 in the morning. I went to a local park and sheltered in the shadow of a tree as the snow caught the ambient light and reflected it into the sky, a glowing beacon illuminating the constant onslaught of glassy flakes as they drifted to the earth. The eventual destination in mind was a park along the waterfront, where I would be afforded some privacy to look out over the skyline and watch the daybreak in peace.
The radiant brilliance of the sun is muted on stormy days. When clouds weep over the sky, the sun’s rising is not a blazing sword, chasing a clambering night to the far side of the earth. It’s a meek, muted glow, a timid peek over the horizon as it impotently meanders into the sky. As I meandered to my destination it dawned on me that I would not be witness to a glorious sunrise. I wandered into more constructed places that had already begun to angrily flail and throw off their blanket of snow in some delirious dawn night terror. The glistening alabaster that had adorned the more residential parts of the city had been swapped for an onslaught of machines turning the frosting into grey slush, a big cold, wet, dirty mess, skinned with all the soot and ash and gravel and dust and filth of the city and the vehicles that traverse it. No rays of sunlight tearing open the sky from the east- just a choking illumination, a steady glow that perversely hushes the night away, pensive and lazy. The falling snow was grey. The sky was grey. The slush that piled around my feet were all mushy grey.
The bomb exploded. A dark street saturated with the melted snow and framed by compacted grey asphalt slush. Floodlights glaring down from the grand academic buildings above, walking through scaffolding that was messily adorned with the tortured water from the sky. I am out of my head, I am out of my body, I am shifted slightly above and to the left, how are my legs moving still? Has my gait changed? My body was no longer synchronous, but alas each part seemed to perform its job well enough to keep the whole body moving- well practiced coordination. I had a ways to go until I was safe- there were cars, passerby, glints of eyes as they catch the flashes of madness reflecting off mine. I exuded disorder, disjoint, I was bleeding and disintegrating into a tumbling jumble of pixelated building blocks. Amidst the dense trembling tenements of my nervous system, quaking under the shroud of a cognitive air-raid siren, my heart was thrashing, seething with adrenaline and thrusting its primal visceral panic into my carotid artery. One shot of panic after another right into my brain, turning my grey matter to cold pumice, shuddering my muscles. I did not time this correctly.
Walking walking just keep walking it was all I could do, no matter the oculars coalescing out of the swirling textures at my flanks. I am warm, it is so cold, I sit down on some stairs behind a wall- a brief respite. No one can see me, I can see the sky collapsing above me. I am breathing heavily, I am drenched in the tickling shroud of a looming wraith of dread. There is nowhere to go but onwards.
I trudge and trudge, panic and panic, I meet busy intersections, highway exits, furious metal beasts trying to navigate their snowy landscape, clambering over the snowbanks and ice chunks, groaning and roaring and muttering to themselves as they tear past me, their lights eviscerating me as they go. I am a faceless madman to passersby, an amorphous figure tossed out into the snowstorm like a plastic bag blown loose from the branches of a dead winter tree.
The sun had seeped into the ruminating clouds that oozed over the city, a shy and timid deep blue trying in earnest to hide its face behind a curtain of unrelenting gossamer grey, the grey of wet concrete on a humid overcast day. The daybreak was humble and relegated itself to the background as the sterile cathedrals of the cities skyscrapers glared defiantly into the storm. Keeled against the billows of frost, they stood tall as winters wrath clattered off of their perfect hides, a crystalline monument to a contempt for nature, for not even a deafening salvo of covetous ice could shudder these titans.
I was awestruck- at the lights that framed these buildings and illuminated the march of the crystalline army that drifted around them. At their force, their energy, these crystalline pillars thrusting into the reclining sky.
I had to look closer, I rushed to a pathway over the river that granted a comprehensive view of the skyline. Undetonated ordnance had been perturbed. The second shockwave hit. This was no longer the familiar skyline I gazed upon. New buildings had wedged themselves between the familiar ones, turning the distinct skyline into an impenetrable wall of skyscrapers, all vitreous iridescent green. They flashed, warped, mirrored themselves and followed my field of vision. I was deep in it now. I was awestruck. I wanted to scream about the beauty. I wanted to transmit this image to everyone in the world, these great titans of man being embraced by the iridescent cascade from the sky. A shadow loomed over me however, and I found myself initiating a great oscillation.
I saw myself from the third person in a rectangular screen. As my thoughts gathered momentum that image replicated itself and trailed off into infinity. Seeing myself, there in that image, left me entirely at a loss for how to navigate existence. Then I felt it-them. My thoughts were traveling, jumping, associating in a particularly aberrant manner, far beyond any natural flow of cognition. I have felt this before, this distinct metallic feeling, the presence. The presence had metal fingers. The presence knew how thoughts would normally flow through my brain. The presence rearranged those pathways with its long metal fingers. Each little touch of its fingertips sparked a fresh wave of panic, coursing through my bloodstream. My thoughts connected and associated in ways I thought inconceivable - perhaps the presence knew how to reconstruct me here but I certainly had not an inkling of its intentions.
Primeval confusion and panic set in. I had been reprogrammed. In public. Snow was falling. Transportation infrastructure was crippled. The only way home was to walk, through populated neighborhood. The sun was fully up now. My crime was laid bare, the morning joggers who braved the snow had begun to materialize. I was wispy, an unentity, a creature of the night suddenly finding itself trapped in the spotlight of the muted sun. I had no benzos or anything on me that could arrest the experience. I had really truly fucked up. All I could do was laugh, I was completely stranded, tripping too hard to function, with limited options.
A great deal of mental energy was expended wrangling the writhing metallic serpents trying to flee in all directions from my mind, each of them liable to inflict some form of psychic mischief. The presence got aggressive, it whipped apart my fields of perception, it twisted them and bent them, until I too was bent and twisted out of any state of rational perception. It talked to me, it tried to, it wanted to tell me so much, it wanted me to do things, to create things, to destroy things, to unmake the world and perform obscure tasks, its voice was metal, transmitted not through words but as sinister obscure and impossible ideas directly into my brain, liquid metal filling in the cerebral wrinkles, each neuron it touched exploding into a cascade of visceral panic. I saw my face from five feet away. My form shifted and shuddered and blinked. I did not know where my mind was. I did not know who contained my thoughts and intentions, I did not know who controlled my thoughts or intentions. I focused all of my mental energy, I stood up, I paced, I breathed, I met this before, I could dispel it. The snow raged around me, each flake a malicious metal eye pointed straight at me, the presence drilling its mind into mine, I plunged my face into my hands and closed my eyes and threw myself headlong into a disintegration chamber constructed of shifting and shuddering forms. I opened my eyes again and stood up. Okay for now. The snow felt like a billowing miasma swirling around my back, waiting for the next chance to clutch at me with so many metallic tendrils. I could not stop and think for too long or it would grip me again, smiling its great palladium smile without having a mouth at all.
Terror, Terror. What do I do? No one could come bail me out, no one could drive out here and save me, I couldn’t get law involved oh god fuck no. I truly could only bail myself out of this situation. It was very cold. My frail body was very exhausted. I could not be in public, as I was being stalked by a malevolent force. I had nothing to go on here.
I walked and kept walking, perhaps a change of scenery would keep the panic at bay. And god by god the awe the brilliant light of grace a million lumens into the heavens, soaring into the sky and cascading silky iridescence down upon me the beauty was riveting, all of the colors of the sun piercing straight into my heart, a stark white beam, perfect in every way screaming from my skull into the heavens, enraptured in ecstasy. By all holy, by all sacred, it was awesome, something terrifying, something wonderful, something dizzying in its scope, yet immediately recognizable in its grandeur. It shook me to my core, plunging into my St. Teresa heart, a fiery icy ecstasy the likes of which only the unity of the beauty of divine grace could writhe through my neurons. I wept tears of joy at witnessing such a serendipitous moment in the world, at being here, now, witnessing this, in this ephemeral scene that could only live on in my mind.
Maybe it was the drugs talking. But maybe it was the scene - The sky was yet to entirely abandon its timid blue. The lonely trail curved along the river, the willow trees and tufts of grass adorned in luscious crystalline draperies, their sullen branches in stark contrast with the smooth, gentle, glistening sugar of the snow upon them. The river was a solemn blue-gray, the color of a depression room when the sun sets but the lights haven’t been turned on all day. Palaces of iron thrust into the luminous sky, great smokestack cathedral spires, embellished by the gentle kisses of the snowflakes that swirled into them. Icicles, vitreous and wind-sculpted, clung to every surface, crystalline friezes making a pilgrimage unto the earth. In the foreground, a technicolor freight train passed into infinity, its rust and weathered paint peaceably entwining its fingers with the frigid air. Everything towered over me, everything sang deep into the sky, a chorus of pillars of light and beauty firing towards the heavens. Steam poured from towers and smokestacks and the tops of buildings, creeping across the skyscape, the city waking up and coming to life and coming into motion under the muted gaze of the icy stratus clouds.
I paced back and forth through the park for about an hour, oscillating rapidly between absolutely disintegrating terror and ecstatic awe. One checked the other, I felt demented and tilted, whipped into a frenzy of jilted broken energy by the vicious polarity of this experience. The earth around me was so cold yet so radiant, so much energy thrust through its heart, energy that bled out like wind whipping from the plunging throat of a cave, energy that left my mind eviscerated, with me scrambling to pick up and contain the guts that spilled forth, dusted with ice and static electricity. Reality felt virtual, shattered and rendered false. I felt like a character, like a being acting at the discretion of some other, each move of my muscles rendered and carefully placed and predestined by some other entity, and it felt so perfectly okay. An ideal balance of sacrificing my autonomy as I truly traversed and explored the land before me. The sky smoldered with somber light now, and I was fully immersed in a fully illuminated grey morning. The quiet and peace that pervaded the land before the sun had risen was inconceivable now.
After about an hour of deep, creeping discomfort had passed, I had wrangled my mind enough to feel confident throwing my luck into a quest for home. I carefully orchestrated my re-entry to society and the world, escaping from the park away from the gaze of any pedestrians. I quickly slipped through the streets that had already been cleared of much of the snow. I quietly wove through the flecks of people that had found their way outside, begrudgingly trying to go about their days in these very adverse conditions. My legs and feet were sore, I felt overheated from all of my tight layers, and ultimately so tired and exhausted. I zoned out most of the world around me to focus on the task at hand, trudging onwards on autopilot. I finally arrived at my house without issue. At last, the quest was over. I was home safe, nothing bad had happened. It was okay at last. The pangs and traces of the panic and the scars it left as its barbs coursed through my veins had left my nerves raw. I flopped down on the couch on my porch and took several deep breaths as the relief set in on my shocked psyche. Opalescent steam rose off of my clothing and shrouded me in its gentle coils, tracing my form like soft warm fingers, caressing me in consolation for the successful completion of my journey. I sat immobile for about half an hour, panting, my legs stretched out in front of me. I relished in feeling safe, competent, in overcoming the repeated panic attacks and unwelcome intrusions by unnerving entities on nothing but my own fortitude. I relished in the physical comfort and relaxation, I reveled in the light of day and the little rainbows that adorned the snowbanks that had still coated most things in this part of the city. I reveled in the tracers still following the little blusters of snow that the wind caught and pulled from the trees. I had no reason to move, I felt so warm and good.
It was about 7:30 in the morning. I figured I should just eat and rest up the rest of the day. I dosed myself with about 2 mg of Etizolam to slow the trip down and lull my mind into the same degree of exhaustion my body felt. I showered in the morning light, a quiet and solemn and meditative experience, decorated by the clattering sound of falling water and the steamy warmth it imparted into my flesh. Every movement of mine still felt punctuated, exact and deliberate, and little iridescent halos traced everything like iris auras. I ate some rice and beans for some compact nutrition and smoked a bit of weed before passing into sleep. I slept pretty much all of the next day, and my nerves didn't feel completely rewarmed and functional until I had woken up.
I saw beauty and terror, I had been stricken by awe, I had been carved out and shocked and burned and irradiated by prismatic fire that fractured my being. I was seared and smoldering and energized and so exhausted. I had borne witness to something wonderful and terrible.
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