We read to know we're not alone. The sheer pleasure of telling a story may be the human condition that most resembles levitation. In the novel you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival. People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff.
Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.
The unconscious creates, the ego edits. The morning is greying with an unwritten poem. An attack of perhapses.