I relapsed, unimaginably so, into my
childhood dreams framing them
beside one another. Painstakingly I
paint, each emotion from memory in
an attempt to provide color to a greyscale that
slides ambiguously from light to shadow.
I linger, hesitant to pause, still shading the past as
moving on is a challenge that I do not willingly accept.
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.
A lone wicker stool intricately cuts in half
the hardened kitchen,softened, by oaken branches
hoarding moonlight, preventing the crystal clear
cups from revealing the faint smudges
left on his face as his breath slowly
fogs a curved reflection, the cabinets creak
and slowly splinter, chipping in disproportionate
patterns connectable only through the dots
of wormhole marks left under their natural stain,
marble counters hide droplets of spilled milk
in creamy camouflage until they overflow their
self created edges with the unbounded salty
abandon of another sleepless night.
If I never realize
my highest hopes and dreams
could I rescind them?
Wrap them in a royal blue plastic bag
and recycle my used time,
to fund yours with
new-found nickels and dimes
to allow you to realize
your dreams in a manner I
never could on my own.