It’s a compulsion that must be indulged.

It’s my master, condemning me,

so that I keep going.

No matter what I do to avoid it,

I will eventually give in and obey.

I feed off of this obsession,

like a wild animal does its prey.

Once I’ve had my fill,  

I shove it as far away from me, as possible—

until the urge presents itself again.

But it’s always there.

It never stops,

and if I don’t satisfy this impulse,

I’m afraid I will lose my ability forever,

I will never pick up a pen and paper again.

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