Not Sparing Any Log

The veneered contours of it had tamed me, 

Hand going numb, words plodding to alphabets, 

Soon, all that was left were blank pages and ink going dry, 

The relentless thirst to flow was giving away without a sigh.

My hands never trembled as electric as this day, 

My present-ness and mind going down in disdain, 

Inertness taming my ability to begin anew, 

Therapist on the phone pushing me to take baby steps,

Followed by a few lunges to straighten what was askew. 

 

Dishes in my kitchen are going kaboom, 

The same date on my calendar is ready to move, 

I've got to break these shackles and chains, 

Let the free flow of creativity in my brain. 

The reckless words tethering me has to be put to fire, 

Just a matter of one leap and there's no stopping back.

Stone to stone strike, sparks setting fire ablaze, 

Flames heaving up, I can feel the combustion stack up, 

Extinguisher in my hand, warning alarms, eyes intact, 

I chose to extinguish the pain and not the fire, 

Even if the house went down in flames, 

Even if the consequences were dire, 

I'd still choose the resurrection of my creativity

Over the tameness of them critics who conspired.