Using an electron microscope, researchers have peered down inside the brain of an adult mouse at a scale previously unachievable, generating dramatic color images at 3-nm-pixel resolution. The research was published Thursday July 30 in an open-access paper in the journal Cell. Focusing on a small area of the mouse brain that receives sensory information from mouse whiskers, the researchers built a system that automatically slices a subject brain into thousands of thin 29-nm coronal brain slices (each section 1 square millimeter) and sticks them to a conveyer belt. After staining the slices to differentiate different tissues, an automated electron microscope took pictures of each slice. A computer then assigned different colors to individual structures and combined the images to produce a 3-D map. The scientists used a program called VAST, developed by co-author Daniel Berger of Harvard and MIT, to label and piece apart each individual “object” (e.g., neuron, glial cell, blood vessel cell, etc.) using different colors, as well as smaller structures such as dendrites and mitochondria. They also created an annotated inventory of 1700 synapses.

(via An incredible nanoscale 3-D voyage through a tiny part of the mouse brain | KurzweilAI)

Deep down I’m in pain. I won’t express to anyone the amount it Eats away at me. I wouldn’t tell a soul if it was killing me. I let it eat me like cancer. I won’t die immediately but soon enough I’ll get tired of fighting. I want everyone to know but for the wrong reasons so I won’t tell a soul. My soul suffers and it’s hard to breathe properly subconsciously which is how you normally breathe. I’m hurting and I can’t escape it. I can’t escape my mind I cannot just be. Im tired of how my face looks often. Each day I wake up and remember I’m inside me. I feel like I’m stuck in a memory. The memory has no oxygen. I see my parents and feel guilty being their creation. I’m using periods to separate my sentences. I feel like this period I’m in is separating me from the thesis of my purpose. I’m not in rising action because I haven’t broken from the shackles holding me from my journey. As I fall back into a depression that I’ve pretended wasn’t there he smiles as I return to his dungeon. My sword to slay this grim man has melted into sand and all I have are dirty vibes in the crevices of my hands. I hate my self for reasons. I cry a lot for these reasons. I bang my head against the walls to stop the pressure. The pressure never stops. I rub my eyes till they bleed. I want them to bleed so they can blurry the vision I have of myself but when I want blood the bleeding never starts. I can’t escape the compression. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. The repetition makes my heart beat faster as if any of this means anything I’m saying is real. My feeling isn’t tangible but that’s why I feel it is more real than the physicality of what is around us. Being deep makes me afraid of what is pointless as I attempt to thrust upon my own personal endeavors I’m human. Maybe that’s the disgust maybe that’s where the mediocrity comes from. The writing isn’t making it better it’s just further separating my brain from reality. Why is it so hard for me to be me. Images of me slitting my throat in the tub. Images images. What reality is that in what reality do the react to. I don’t wanna breathe. After all of these years I’m unhappy with the construction of my face. Writers aren’t meant to be appreciated, why not ? Because in the process of progression we forget the route and the easy necessary things. No one cares is basically what I’m saying. So I’m good at the thing I love that no one loves. So what is loving myself ? I close my eyes hoping when I open them I won’t be here I close my eyes and see images that are inconceivable but only I can see the images in my darkness I’ve created. The demons that are created were created just for me. Only for me. I sadden me I sadden I’m saddened. I cry in times like the morning brush of my teeth or approaching the time where I choose an outfit from the misplaced clothes upon my floor that are emulating pieces and personalities of my mind. Which self do I want to pretend I an today ? I’m not valued because being just a human is being worthless. I wake up with my sinuses strangling my neck and lungs. I walk quietly to the bathroom hoping my parents forget my failure footsteps as the floor creeks revealing my insecurities in their frequent voices. I walk past them in the kitchen feeling like a burden being a waste of confounding bond bones and spirit. What am I ? My skin itches because I don’t feel like it’s mine so I’m always trying to get underneath my surface to release this other mans pressure. Sometimes I wish I could reach in my throat and rip out my vocal cords so I can lay them out on a table play the words I haven’t spoken of held behind my jealousy there’s something there that I’m holding. Dirty flesh, dirty eyes, filthy perception. What am I ? I don’t have the answers so they don’t have the answers. I’d pay for a solution but it wouldn’t be genuine. Nothing’s wrong with me everything is wrong if the feelings wrong. My body feels like a shitty a minor I’m out of key. I’m a pianists without fingers I never can play what my heart desires. My wonder for the universe has become a lifestyle there isn’t wonder anymore. Because the inconceivable does not yet exist but it is out there to be reached. My aspirations can only be touched by what I depict my imagination to be and in a mediocre world where material items are are the precedence

I feel good but I still wanna leave. To belong where when here was never. I feel faint but I won’t sleep. When you realize you aren’t real things start to appear different In the eyes. The eyes are the first thing to change. I can’t see right I’m slowly seeing myself become the inevitable self that I’m trying to so hard to prevent but how can swim against a reoccurring current. My mind is tired of my soul lungs want a divorce from each other they’re just tired of inhaling the air from this path I am on. My emotions slowly slow to a halt. I wanna live I wanna live. I know I want to live so why aren’t U living yet.

My crossing of path with a collection of collective men (man kind) I feel I’m casted beyond the outcast my bones are collectively as barren as the lands disposed of and drained by these collective men I’m tired of replacing love with agony just because my addiction for pain is easier to satisfy than my desire for love

I’m the infinite kid. “He’s this he’s that”. I am this and I am that just too see what you are just too explore your hints of disclosed pleasures hidden underneath the the tip of your tongue. “He gets it he gets me ”
I get you to feed me. Well rather not me, whatever is left inside has formed into what you see now. Of course you are pleased with what you see if you have a good sense of hubris you might me quite entertaining mysterious smart charming. How can I not be I’m neither seen in distraught nor fully appreciated but I observe from a far angle of solitude and dream and create scenarios incase they happen I’m 3 steps in front of the left step you took right before you fell I’ve positioned myself underneath your fall as an elegant blanket and the truth is in my entirety I do it because I crave a love I might not ever be able to taste… I feel the hurt I have caused to each every morning awake I dream to rewrite some of the path at which has lead myself into regret to quench my everlasting thirst for she who will allow me to drink endlessly to drink drunk into madness collapse and still breathe unconsciously as I drown in her…
“It’s not me it’s he” well he is him well he is him then him is me and I can’t escape myself from two men inside that yearn to seek the other deceased and will never cease to stop unless I cease to exist…

I’m sorry momma if you find my body dead on the floor
With my blood seeping off my sheets
I can only imagine the type of thoughts you’d explore
I could no longer deal with all the pain I’ve endured
so i decided to leave this note inside one of my drawers

Before you snooped in my drawers
And blame yourself for all the flaws that you think you implored
Just know that you are so pure

But that couldn’t stop the curiosity
That’d be mocking me and mocking
Cuz I never sleep ever
Follow my blackened brick road
Of ashes to overcast kinds of weather

You would see that my spirit is shouting inside of these clouds
Of discretion
These melancholy clouds crying
But the rain never seemed to just pour

So you may think there’s no storm
But there’s confession inside my passive aggression
I’ve got condescending type oculars
So tears may never descend
but inside a tornado I’m hurling shit that would scorn the condemned

My demeanor the meaner type of the calm before the storms
But you would never sense the slightest spite
It’s just the way I was born with the tightest grip of reality

In actuality I began to fall in love
in love with death defying type heights
Heights that compresses your ribs and starts holding your life in
apprehension so closely it almost feels right
being so bound to the throat

I always felt like I’m choking
Mama this monstrosity’s truth
My demon hidden inside my youth
Provoking me slowly I hid always his emotions
While cautiously I’m Avoiding emotional signs Of distress
as Im nauseously holding my stomach while I split open my flesh

Open flesh that’d given me breath and
a better glimpse of my death
I’d breathe in with satisfaction while sacrificing my neck
Felt like I was born to protect
But every time I would fret id feel the pressure of 6 billion
And only three people inside of me
One that’s willing to kill every single human and being and one that’s tryna kill I
And so I’m caught in between
Reality and my means

My molested perception how do you envisions your morals
When your visions of bodies hanging and shiny caskets with florals
So now deaths only a celebration based off of what’s deemed of your soul

Well not every heart that is pushing is pumping blood that is gold
For all the smoke I’ve inhaled it’s only charcoals in my sternum
yearning for burning pitches of dirty sermons that deem my persona so dirty
Like I was casted out of the heavens
A number seven that’s
a lucky number to many but it was forsaken by god

Is this the curse I was given so every time that I walk
I feel the burn of people’s pupils
They dilate like they saw a decrepit image of me like I was visible in their dark

So many lonely nights at the park wishing somebody racists
Would follow me home and possibly
Attempt to finally end it all
But you created me only half accepted by American law

Just because I’m lighter skinned
I’m supposed to run away from it all
This makes me better than my half brother naw, this just splits me into two
So not only do I suffer as me
I’m suffering like I’m you

Maybe a cop Would pull-up while I’m smoking a spliff
and purposely try to attempt to tempt my temper cuz I’m already a drift
so I revert to go brawl
While I’m already blurry eyed by the bloody mist of images
From every brother that falls
My memory is so dense
When I invision my broken past in my current present tense

I’m tense

Maybe he’ll pull his penetrable pistol from his hip
as the bullet would split open my overheating steaming temple
Releasing the pressure I’m withholding and carrying every since
My one true love had got killed

I’m resentful
Of these scars that won’t heal

I’m feeling Leary leery so weary seeing the end to my end
Before my end’s even created
Ive really debated this “man” ( man kind )

I peer into my peering image in my reflection of sins
I no longer see the sun rise in
My irises I admit
I’ve even tried to repent but every time I’d look to the sky my skin would begin to just itch

A slitherin tickle would press against bothof my lips
And for a moment there’s peace
A shed of light had broke in my eyes
But then I’m rushed into darkness
Right as Ive finally found how to cry

Were these the lips of an angel I began to swallow my pride
Cuz I’ve always questioned the god
That let me drown in my bloody
Disgust and left me hollow inside

I slipped into a conscious unconsciously state of my mind
And then I saw the demise
I split breath between the lips of my demon which lead me right back to demise it’s always the devil that chooses to wear disguise
but it’s also the devil also makes you realize

The me that has been tryna kill I figured if my wish was to die
He would just keep me alive
Until he’s ready to eat

I open my eyes in a hospital with one thing that to my eyes
I guess I gotta earn my way to death
Otherwise I will never truly die


I’m here again
I’m back inside the place
Where my daddy left

I hold my breath
Until my face is rippling
Heat upon my flesh
Why can’t I rest

I should’ve died already
Who am I behind this
These eyes
Hearing my voice inside the tears
I shed and cry

Why can’t I just escape
This vacant place
That is my life


What do you want outta life kid
There’s only a few things you’ll be able to obtain and even then space has to open up for where you wanna be.

Think of it like a parking lot full spaces. Each person on their different paths coming from every which way yet orient around parking due to something they feel willed to obtain. Needless to say whatever it may be is subjective the fact of the matter . Objective is key kid objective is key. Never subject yourself. Because like the parking spaces there are the people who buy their way to which they want because they’ve been put in that position by someone else. Then there are the people who study the paths and frequencies and understand it pay attention a little more to human tendencies. The observers they seek they find they will even mimic at any cost to receive. They might even be so cunning as to just wait and wait and wait until one of the spaces finally listens to the undying will of the command. Then there are people who are just those people. The very minuscule that just glow and they unconsciously open doors with seemingly closed eyes. They are perceiving and living at a rapid rate that almost seems to decrease their mortality. Their moralities are never judged they seem to be a combination of the other two but just something else. Now you might think you need to decide. You might think you’ll never be the third one you might think you want to, but if you were to be third kid it’s living contradiction because that third person has given a tremendous cost to exceeds these social hierarchy boundaries. Humans can only be pushed when they come to the face of their own personal precipus. They didn’t choose it they didn’t create just like the name they were given. Just like the spot they just seemed to recurve every single time in the parking lot by never adhering to the deficit that maybe yes there is denial rejection they have created a natural selection amongst their own persona. What parts of them will live and what parts shall they let die stagnancy never hovers over the head of the number three option kid.
What are you willing sacrifice.

The biggest lesson in it all is understanding that giving your soul will do nothing because only the pure were chosen to be put in a natural predisposition

But if you want it that bad kid
You gotta do something for me

God to me


Who am I
The type of guy
You take a look
And segregate me with a common eye

The pressure builds
Feeling like a child
Who don’t know
How to feel

Who’s to blame
A heart that’s barely
Pumping out the the blood
That daddy gave

Aint no father
Even non worthy
Of the title
Should see their sunnys grave

Cuz I wouldn’t want my child
Feeling so hungry
That’d he’d have to cave

And resort to eating
His flesh to keep the breath
Who is gonna save ….
Me ?


I hope it rains I hope it really rains
I hope we wash away
That easy, I hope you know
Like hosing down ant holes

What kind of whole are we to think
His holiness won’t wash away
An entirety of cancerous ants
That are a little too out of control


I want your humanity
Your insanity all that
All black all decrepit
All torn everything from your skin
To your jeans

I want your flesh
I want your sweat
The hidden statements
Under your breath

All that and all of it
All of you inside of you
All of me inside of you
All of you all over me

Too bad all of you doesn’t exist


I feel being silent
I feel like being silent
Cuz silent felt like being me
We’re similar in agony

We’re similar like the like
You put in the first sentence
Non existent but still spoken of
Echoed upon our meaningless

That fills the air when all is dead


Wasn’t ready for the weakest hit
The slightest of my weakness hit
A place where only weakness hits
The epitome of the pit I had spent most of my seasons in


Here’s some of my brain
Hope someone finds it useful