“for the running mind”

It’s crazy what a little cleaning can do

Sweeping mine fields of your mind away

Eventually you find faith on the path

Steady losses BECOME explosions

count them as wins

Cascaded from marvelous, pristine places.

 

The church is spic and span

Its home is any many forms

Screens may seem more welcoming

Havens that can indeed be spotless

Uncracked

Reflecting your face off a surface,

Of social media timelines.

 

Any sign of disorder is relational to your mind

The spillage

Can be tidied.

Like your life,

And your sick,

Your crazy,

 

Cleaning makes me think of my mother.

 

I, an extension of her body,

Must be made clean

Scrubbed until the souls of others

Enlighten me to different perspectives.

 

O how I wish to be rinsed

Does everyone?

Whatever is in me,

Is good.

Yet family CANNOT

hear such animal screams

spill

from me.

At least,

not without their permission

 

Permission to feel pain is important.

For pain is felt all over,

By everyone.

No need for comparisons

And overloads.

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