Eyeballs are tumors. They subject us to pain. And make tiny NASCAR races out of people doing everyday crap. Like drinking coffee or playing pool. They enlarge billboards to size of skyscrapers that pierce unsuspecting retinas with sabres of untruth and leaves cones and rods sore with lesions that pus and piss. These lesions turn into unavoidable actions of guerilla-style masking of potential hunting and gathering. What comes is a prison, not of bars and concrete but of cotton, paper, and silicone.