Restraint
by Sam M. Phillips

I cannot write any more,
I feel raw and sore,
And yet I gore
My guts,
The struts
Must be pulled loose,
I tie my own noose.

Proof of dedication,
Capitulation before ideal,
I steal power,
Lower doubt,
Turn pain about.

Gout gouging,
I’m lounging
In disdain,
Abstain from true work,
Explore the ideas that lurk
Down deep inside,
Hide the divide
Between heaven and hell.

I dwell in both,
Transform like the moth,
Alchemy ahead of me,
I long to see
The face of truth,
I need proof
I move in the right direction.

Tight deflection
Of society’s ideals,
Such sick hope steals
My energy away,
I cannot play
Their games,
It tames my true creativity,
My focused activity.

Proclivity to prowess,
I seek magical progress,
The stress I feel
Is from the mess
I must deal with.

Healing myself one cell at a time,
Hear the bell chime,
That will be my guest,
Restraint is the true test.

***

My debut short story collection is here!

INFINITY AND I: Seventy Science Fiction Short Stories

Get a copy here: INFINITY AND I: Seventy Science Fiction Short Stories