What Price Inspiration? I once read a book Or saw a film A fiction With friction A middle-aged writer Or some such thing In the Far East Or was it West? Or somewhere else? Who made a deal With a devil Or someone of that ilk That the price To write a best seller Was one of his digits He'd presumably Had had some success As there were three fingers missing From his left hand But was now hooked on fame I wondered at what strange magic Would reward such a thing Perhaps none at all Perhaps it was merely an illusion Or delusion Perhaps he was inspired By the intense pain As each digit Was painfully removed By a sharp knife And this pain Was his portal To his imagination Ive had moments of severe pain None of which have been That inspiring Do i need my little finger? Apart from when i'm drinking tea!