Your Head is an Aquarium

Your head is an aquarium

and you recently found the owners manual.

It says 4/5 aquarium hygienists agree:

You really should consider cleaning your tank.

You open the lid to peek inside.

Manual recommends: remove the brain and put aside in a bowl of clean water.

Next, use a high-pressure hose to blast the sticky subliminal film off the inside of your skull.

Loose debris will be easily removed but hardened plaque will require concerted scrubbing.

Manual recommends: Use the accompanying scouring tool. It’s a medical-grade pumpkin carving scoop.

You drag the paddle around the inside of your head excavating years of unconscious build up.

You pressure wash after each round of scraping, fascinated with how clean it gets each time.

When there is nothing left to scour, you reach for your brain. While set aside, it has left the once clear water, murky with mental load.

Manual recommends: Pressure wash your brain for good measure. You rotate the organ, washing it thoroughly.

Cognitive conglomerate flakes off the grey matter and decades of dense grime floods out of the folds.

Your brain lightens with every passing cleanse until it’s practically buoyant.

When you place it back in your skull,

it's roomier,     more space,   floats easier.

Manual recommends: clean as often as needed.