Here I sit within
the portals of pain
week in, week out
regurgitating for analysis
platitudes and banal musings,
merging with heightened scenes
of abject misery
in ever more synchronized
rhythms . . . throwing up
and out. choking,
gagging on noxious memories,
each time transposing them,
centering into manageable feelings.
Like a spotted cow
grazing on green grasses,
vomiting cud,
only to chew it again
and regurgitate once more . . .
On through four stomachs
until, at long last,
they are voided
into a smoldering wretched
heap upon the grass
cow-tippers seek to avoid,
and ignore. –
the pain finding its
manifest shape and scope
to be tucked into a corner
gathering dust,
buried in forgetfulness,
inspired by exhaustion.