this is the place of scarcity,
the land of not-enough:
their desperation resonates
as a gong rung twice
my hands dissipate
my legs sink to sand
my lips knit together:
a coil binds them,
my tongue mutely sighs
the others stand tall, brimmed with hope
will they too shrink,
their selves ground to debris
to be swayed by the wind?
the dust fills my eyes,
stained with brown soot
misery.
these emotions are not bad.
they are the messengers, my trusted aids,
my council & advisors,
ny mentors & friends
they have told me, "you cannot do this,
you cannot go further."
for too long, they were ignored.
they saw my future ruin, and mutineed
a coup came that night:
my hands and words not my own,
yet the thrill mine to enjoy!
they did not know my despair,
i hid it carefully,
tuning my smile as a guitar
played on glass strings:
crack
and now, my misery known...
did i keep myself safe?