Go feral. Get out. All the way. Completely outside. Personally? I would ask that you also leave your drugs at home. All of them. Properly undergo the second childhood in which the universe becomes your parents and you ‘discover your culture from within it’. Because if you haven’t? You have no idea what you are. No matter how interesting or strange you think you may be. No matter what you read. Get out. All the way. Read the living books and write in the empty sky with your soul’s quill…

And then, come back and rescue the prisoners of human culture. If you have not pierced human culture and dwelt beyond -as nature-… any cult or model may seem sweet as Christmas candy. But once outside the sickly sweet aromas of the candy shop will neither tempt you nor obscure the wretched ammonias of the slaughterhouses they stand for. You will be cured. The sweetness you carry will be true. The kind that isn’t a poison in the mind and blood. A cure for human culture(s). And alive.