This is a maths notebook; why are you writing poetry?

The creative urge

is a creature of urges.

It seizes you by the

throat,

and demands your

work.

There is no sense of 

reason or time,

only that at least a 

word may rhyme.

Standing over your head,

and just about breathing

down your neck,

it nitpicks and nudges

and possibly tears it

down,

entirely.

But never so much

guilt does it feel

as when that

very work is 

left incomple