a thought will paint a thousand words

A thought will paint a thousand words.



Is there such thing as a wise man? With no wise man, there is no fool. With no fool, there is no wise man. A wise man is a wild man exceeding all limitations, and expectations. Is there such thing as a brain palpitation? As short or mild, or strung out, wrung out, far out? Is there an eternal source of everlasting movement? Is there never a halt in the determinable sensational walk into sand, seeds growing combusting like dehydrated meal, like the nonexistence of air to a drop of water…? Does the mind momentarily fill the pages of a book that is constantly burning to make room for current event articles? Does this explain why our brains do not explode, spontaneously combusting like match to gasoline? Do we merely lack friction? Every nuclei and miracle connection of brain cells combust when we function. Merely the thought of functioning causes a severe tremble… a mild explosion, a microscopic split running on fuel from nutrition, calorie, once constructed of what is now decomposition, making thought possible. For every moment of combustion, there must be an equal implosion. Our mind is a circular pattern, a recyclable mode. A mode of recyclability. A mind is an imperfect circle, with distinguishable grooves and no start or end. There is only middle. The dark lines forming a circle represent time, with the space inside representing movement. And the colors, textures, strengths and weaknesses of this bubble generate at random. A sphere too tough has no grooves, only texture and mono palette. A sphere too weak has extreme depths of grooves and no texture, and poly palette. A strong circle will break from tension. A weak circle will break from lack of durability. A broken circle is the halt. A reversion and momentary instant with an end. A finish. A halt of life and all things sacred. Death. A broken circle is never a straight line. A broken circle tears at others with its pointy head and causes turmoil. However, when all circles become lines, they connect like a puzzle to become the circle of life.

 

Sounds like LizardKingMike, who also contributes here. Beyond that I don't think I should comment.