By Shem Onderi
In my mind I live forever
It has no partitions, no walls, no concrete
In my mind is where I spend all my life,
The mind is rough or smooth depending on how I shape it
I want to know the size of my mind, its physical form
And the shape of it
How it manages to live with me—my unthinking,
My wicked thinking—and still remain mine
Should someone want a mind, who would accept mine?
Whose would fit in me?
My mind requires recarpeting, a refresh at the right click
So as to eliminate rough matter
The cleaner of my mind must be thorough to work wonders
Perhaps sandpaper would do better
At times the mind is overwhelmed by outer thoughts—
So manipulative they distract right thinking
A simple distraction can cause chaos
My mind is vast, with no limits of space,
So huge it accommodates everything
If the mind were hardware, I could erase worries in one corner,
Lower expectations in another,
Brush off complex matters,
Throw away grudges hanging by a loose thread
No one can be sourced to housekeep my mind,
But myself!