Inside my head is like a fish bowl. There's something swimming around adventuring and looking for more in that one cubic foot of liquid. Its excreting disgust and wide eyed attempting to calculate the world outside seven seconds at a time. There are other things in there small sharp pebbles of shame lining the bottom of my existence, its bedrock. A fake chest full of fake treasure letting out little bubbles of hope to keep me distracted when ever I try to look out. All these things seem to be deemed necessary for one reason or another but what if they aren't. What if I could just dump my fishbowl brain out onto the counter and watch my ambition and courage do a final death dance flopping and gasping in a pool of fake treasure and little rocks of shame surrounded by the chilly pool of my memories on the malted surface of a linoleum counter. They say the brain takes fifteen minutes to die. Could I only experience it seven seconds at a time?