*rolls eyes*

I used to imagine rolling my eyes back into my head and looking at my brain, a clockwork. I see the pipeworks, the in-tubes from the spine, the ears, the eyes. I see pumping processes, processing. There is a keyhole, through which I can see a mirror, an image of me looking at me seeing, upside down. I see microchips soldered to tiny green boards, minute gold mazes leading to buses. Grounding wires. Fans. There is a control room with oompaloompas watching lcds of rutting naked bodies, the faces of lovers and friends, interfaces, fractals. There are oozing puddles of blackness under the machines, and some of them, bubbling and spurting, grow fragile tendrils that flirt with the whirling cogs. A faint red mechanical pulsing is omnipresent. The sound of clicks, whirs and whistles. Heat. Unopened boxes.