Scarcity becomes my shield
feigning the lack of desire
keeping grasp on sanity
lest the fiend will rule the day

gibbering gabs fill my head
you’ll not hear these diatribes
against resolve to restrain
these base cravings in my heart

the bland smile becomes the mask
repetition to set the chains
on the leer that would exclaim
something more beneath the bland

cloven hoofs would be revealed
if shoes were absent from my feet
you’ll not catch me without clogs
desire suppressed by ornaments

these safeguards may save a soul
assuming the root may yet die
don’t assume this is the case
the greatest heights are the same depths

moderation becomes my path
scarcity used to restrain
until I find the ideal time
to celebrate my twisted self.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180407.