five random images from google image search as described on Facebook during a cyber-psychotic episode
1.
Arrogantly, they say they can cut the sea in strange shapes, drawing outlines and lines with arrows through their flat smears, whatever. Insofar as there are objects in the sea, all of them are unidentified. Insofar as there can be paths to them, well, they are everywhere. Wave your hand around in the dark: that's how you can tell you have a hand, you feel it and thus you believe and feel yourself capable of perception. Ball up your hand and use it to punch yourself in the balls (MEN): you have drawn the path to an unidentified object in the sea.
In the dark, ignorance and pain are two different things but each capable of taking each other's places like liquid suspended in other liquid in two different (equally shitty) gravities.
2.
I only like a color or two, but i need a lot of things in that color. Preferably lots of shiny
sticks--color in its purest form. Put the top of the sticks in bags so the color doesn't escape. Don't put the entire stick in the bag or else you will forget why the stick is in the bag. I do a lot of things to remind myself. I like to put other-colored sticks in bags next to bags of my favorite ones to remind myself about how much other colors suck.
3.
…in the beginning the world was melon-hued, then it grew salmon, and somehow (oops, almost said someHO) it grew sickly blue-green. the world grew legs to cross over its aquamarine crotch so it wouldn't pee. what would happen if the world peed?
God's beautiful lady arm would probably dip in the puddle with a thermometer striped like the world...
4.
I am a process with five critical stages enclosed in four critical capsules. At five, the capsule is finally burst and my head is diffused in a fire.
I begin as a cylinder with a green head.
My core grows hot, which is not clear until a yellow skin grows on it and my head shrinks to a red dot.
Before they explode, things become small.
When they explode, I guess they are the smallest.
They become nothing.
Step six: I am nothing.
5.
Where am I? I am in front of a reflective computer screen, but I am not here. What is there? The back or the inside of another computer, but only its reflective shadow. I put my hand on each of my breasts, open my chest, and from inside of myself, I project the white words between the two walls of shaded reflection: The NEWSROOM. The Newsroom drops its own name onto the ground beneath it, and there, the words lie on their back. Yes, the Newsroom.
