( CW ) ( LAST SENTENCE ) And then he proceeded to lock the door , hoping that no one would ever open it again .

He stepped over the undying piss of years passed. A lifetime revisited under a tryptamine daze. Long lost archaic jeweled snakes arose like anthropomorphic chandeliers. Mighty were their billowing breaths. Each one seemed to bring forth a million memories. Anton was going mad. 
 
 Grass broke like sand made of dead fish bones. Each step sending shards of mercurial madness into the air. Some got caught in the young psychonaut's breath and collected together in geometric brilliance. 
 
 This was hallowed ground. This chemical was known to few in the waking world. Hewondered if it were known to the dead. He suspected as much. His body floated there. Here. Everywhere. Yet there was a vague sense of semblance to the world of matter. More than likely a trick of his mind to keep our protagonist on this edge of sanity. There is much work to be done. 
 
 Young Anton stepped across eons and watched stars explode with simple words. This entity, this multi verse was fragile. 
 
 He intuited a lesson from this. That, though we are dulled to our grandiosity, every action, thought, projection was important. That every lifetime was a game of hot potato. But with the destiny of worlds at stake. 
 
 He stumbled upon an ethereal door in the back of his brain. A place of unknown sanctity and ruin. Gods and demons of jeweled brilliance fucking and cussing. Was this the seat of conscious action? The battle ground between humanity and reptilian thought left over from millennia of evolution? 
 
 He stood in awe as his past and future self and actions battled like miniature big bangs. Deciding the courses of countless centuries. 
 
 The call of the waking world pulled him home. Reluctantly he left and proceeded to lock the door, hoping that no one would ever open it again. 
 

