Every thought is a growth.
If I attack them with violence they split and multiply. Sat meditating I picture abstract 70s orange and green colored blob forms flowing between me and the other people sitting, like three dimensional rivers and estuaries. I don't know which thoughts and feelings are mine, they all look the same. The grain of the blobs like the calcification of my testicle on the ultrasound. The ultrasound man shows me the imagery of the 'starry night' effect caused by calcified cells scattered across my testicle. New parts of me, growing inside me, that are and aren't me, that could kill me. My tumors are the inverse of my repressed thoughts.