The Never-Ending Pit

Shovel one more down the hole

Tomorrow, the sky’s raining dirt

if you throw down the worst of your worries

it’ll boomerang and make it all hurt

I’ve a’ habit of screaming down ditches

so my voice can flick me on my back

tonight, throw’d my sound and it’s hitches

My character and all that it lacks

Pitch in the writing and reason

Let go the song and the strife

put through the longing and loving

and toss down the hair and the knife

I’d give it my brain and my body

If paradox would erase me from time

Make you wonder who you are forgetting

whenever you look to the right

If I were addition or substance

If I were a number in line

I’d live between the Arabic numerals

I’d live under my form of sign

I’d be a void of all of beginning

easily divisible by two

the pit has its dirt and its walls

I’m the feather

who can never

fall through