To Write

To write
To think
To satisfy yourself
Is unthinkable
At least to the brain
In all its haze.

Even if you prove
The demon will improve
Success back to taboo
The imp shall make impossible
Thine art from out the possible
Before your self has gorged
On quite sufficient praise.

Yet not to strive
Alas, alack, not once, at all
Then show you will to you
Your long-suspected laziness.

But by the way beware
To think, to write
To satisfy yourself
And no-one else
Then reveal to all the world
Your own pure craziness.