Omnipotent, hardships free
allegedly offered to others in
pseudo trades that labor,
today and evermore as ignorance
overflows their chalice but never quenches
for its embroidered weight in
blood-diamond and emerald chips
tips Liberty’s scales,
colored as an unjustly harvested field
hoping only for one diamond to unset, stick,
in the throats of the guilty.
Furrowed chagrin colors my face
streaming profusely, still yet to be
streamlined as rough, unidentified edges
bound and actively define the
tunnels cut through tears that salt
and erode, once dimples, making stale
my favorite smile.
Occasionally I will pantomime my dreams, accidentally,
into a mistaken reality wherein I am a dreamer
but more than that I am me, undeniably so. My hands are
spurned, driven mad, up and down as they burn scribbled
charades into the air and then suspend them; as if
my actions alone brought them to life. Seconds pass
and they live half-lives with no voice, rather my breathing beats
air into their lack of physical being and provides them with heart.
Heart enough for millions from one barely enough for me and it
will forever beat, until my real charade is given voice by another.