Poem of the Day, Listen & Be Heard Weekly

I work from my mind
inward into a corner of knots.
Depressed beneath brain bone
I work my words, they overwork me.
Fear is the spirit alone, away from God.
Hospital warriors shake pink
pills, rattle bottles of empty dreams.
I walk my ward down the daily highway, depressed.
I work the roadmap of spirit, weed out false religions.
One God for so many twelve step programs.
I wrap myself around support groups,
look for dependency within their problems.
I publish my poems, life works, concerns on floor 5.
I edit my redemption, escape from the laundry room;
run around in circles like planet earth
looking for my therapist to seal my comfort.