New Sprint

I can’t hear myself think!

I’m invisible ink

Your eyes are ultra violet

enabling you to interpret

in the time it takes to blink

that I’m out of sync

with my immediate surroundings

how can you be so understanding,

when the rest of the world is demanding?

While my pen’s purpose is unclear

with you here

there is no cause for frequent fear

And I will remain of good cheer

My momentary melancholy appears

to disappear

as lots and lots

of dots…

accompanied by rorschach ink blots

along with scrapped plots

have transformed these thoughts

into Gordian knots

still I refuse

to forget my muse

even if the struggle is of no use

futile efforts shall produce

one line of genuinely good news


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