The Sock Drawer - 26. Slave Mind

Slave Mind

Distractive, cluttered spheres

numb and dumb and dull

acute minds, chafe the skull,

and wear down all their gears.

Things become inexpressible here,

not because what they are isn't clear,

but because they are too fast

for words out of you. Your mind comes in last.

A waste of time that claims routine,

a waste of focus and energy, more,

a waste of attention on a pointless chore

of all the good fuel your mind has in store

- your intellect turns lean.

Where there used to be something

that was a universe in flux

with galaxies of dust, corners, nooks

with horror and beauty galore,

IN-TER-ES-TING-NESS

is no more.

-

Four days a slave,

a Gollum in a cave.

One day of apprehension,

industrious, with tension.

Four days of bliss.

Is there a rule to this?

For the time thereafter,

for when Bliss is gone

and I am but alone,

I hope I can spare laughter,

patience and endurance,

until I find a way home.