rorschach blots

Oh, but poetry called,

about an hour ago.

It said, it wanted to cuddle,

with every noun, pronoun,

verb, adverb and adjective,

there is to be found in

the outside world.

Just like that!

That lucky bastard!

Call me Rorschach, if you like.

My voice is your voice, in fact

a bit of everyone´s voice.

Syllables and words in a row

lacking meaning? Hell!

An answer I don´t

even want to know.

Poetry got scared,

or bored, and ran away.

You´ll see, madness is somehow

my area of expertise…

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