I carry this pit
With me everyday

Sometimes it's in my
Stomach
My back
My neck
The bottoms of
My feet
The back of my
Mind

It never goes
Away
It just moves

It seems to grow
Barbs when my
Thoughts shift
To it
As they usually
Do seemingly
Out of nowhere

Sometimes early
In the morning
Or late at night
Depending on how
You look at things
I can feel the pit
In mid transit

Looking for the
Discarded trash and
Snapped twigs of
A new nest
A new perch to
Take up residence

There is no point
To the pit
It is absurd
Because it exists
It is the
Materialization
Of all the

Rejected submissions
Sideways glances
Passing snickers
Passive aggressive emails
Shelves of unread books
Dust bunnies in the corner
Creaking of floor boards
Board meetings

Clenching of teeth behind
Closed lips

The fading din of a
Conversation as you
Enter the room

Obelisks of junk mail
That choke the
Arteries of the earth

Lies that canoe through
Your teeth into
The sea of
Pointless small talk

Time

A peach rotting
In a ceramic bowl
In a watercolor kitchen
Until the only thing left
Is the pit