The Pit


The Pit

You tell yourself you are done. 
No more pain today. 
Alas, crow that you are, 
you cannot stop yourself from picking at the scabs. 
You lie and say you have had enough, 
and then poke at the festering canker that resides in your skull.
You will never be done. 
That pit in your brain, 
that tumorous growth of disappointment, 
it is yours forever. 
Pluck and prick. 
Prod and pick. 
You cannot remove it. 
It is yours, old crow. 
The gore goes down easy, 
but you choke on the seeds of thought.

J.M.Rogers

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Tree

Image
The Tree J. M. Rogers The sound of chainsaws filled Charles's head. It filled the bedroom, the bathroom, the space under his bed, the gaps between his teeth. He groaned as his eyes raked the face of an unsympathetic clock. Six-thirty? He considered storming downstairs and demanding that they all go to hell on a Saturday, but it would not restore sleep. The dreams were dead. The saws had seen to that. An orange ribbon had cast a warning from the tree's trunk all week, silently broadcasting its obituary to the neighborhood. No one stopped to say goodbye to the friendly oak, so reverent and patient in its prolonged occupation of the street. No one asked Mr. Haley why he would remove the landmark, its smooth branches spreading wide above their privacy fence. No one cared. Charles flinched as a dull boom shook the windows. The din of gurgling mechanisms diminished to a chatter, then stilled. Silence pervaded the room as if the world had ceased to exist alongside the tree. It was the...
Read more

Creative

Creation? Is there anything more "creative" than the infinitely varied expressions of life and terra? Humans are the children of the Earth, enamored of their parent's majesty. Dependent upon their protection and sustenance, we progeny create art in tribute;  inspired by her immense gallery. Short, though our lives may be, we are driven by the timeless processes of our forebearers. So driven, children we shall ever be; never glimpsing the whole of eternity. This short-sightedness defines the focus of human limitation, for such parameters, vexing as they may be, restrain innovation to a cosmological singularity. Therein the rapid expansion of limited forms, like elements fused in a fiery crucible, begin to crystallize and take shape of diverse hues and dimensions; hues and dimensions constricted to the flicker of individual lifetimes. And though these lifetimes may be joined into harmonious chronology, no mountain shall a child of the Earth ever be, nor stream or ancient a...
Read more

Reflections (lyrical)

Image
Reflections One look around the room The light falls upon your face In familiar waves Just a picture left of you That doesn't seem to convey  The memories Tell me it's alright And that I'm not on my own That the pain will go Away Still haven't let you go But I cannot hold you You're so far beyond my reach I still cling to a life That isn't productive I gotta get out of this Tell me it's alright And that I'm not on my own That the pain will go away Tell me one more time That I'm not responsible And the pain will go  Away Could it be That I'm supposed to let you go Running free To places I cannot follow I'm so afraid  Of what it means to move beyond Yesterday Will I remember you? Will I remember all the years?  Will I remember you?  Tell me it's alright That I am not on my own That the pain will go Away Tell me one more time Because I cannot let go Why am I so Afraid? J.M. Rogers
Read more