It’s like a closet… the mind

Only we decide what goes in there, even if we didn’t notice someone drop a load on that empty shelf 

Entire shopping sprees happen just to fill them up 

Rarely are they ever empty 

but attempts at clearing them out call for epic expeditions

They are too small to stay inside for long 

Rather claustrophobic 

Each time We open the door, we find something we missed the last time 

or piles tumble out

Something old something borrowed and plenty that we never needed in there in the first place 

If we don’t consciously change what’s in there we limit our perspective 

Even if we don’t wear what’s inside, we need to circulate some air

Shit gets musty in there…