The Mind

image by pexels

THE MIND

The mind is like a textbook,
written by an ugly fat greedy sloth,
filled to the brim with stories,
to feed his gluttonous gut.

The mind is like a record player,
tucked away in a pool of dust.
Spinning and skipping and tripped on repeat.
Scratched,
Discarded,
Roughed up.

The mind is like a computer program,
installed by the same monster who wrote the
textbook.
Press a key,
the code prevails.

The mind is like an aircraft set to
autopilot.
The aviator fell asleep,
but not to panic.
Modern consoles control flight envelope
from just after take off to
landing.
Where are we going?

The mind is like a play (scripted by you know who),
a long drawn out elaborate story with twists and turns,
that make no sense at all,
and ends with all the characters
forgetting their lines.

.

.

~ Tara Palov

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s