Sonnet: Freakin Fractal for Rob to Read Into
I am the two-lobed fragment you project
a hemi semi demi quavering
god you'll not find absent or wavering,
nor will I ever treat you as an object.
Ol' Rorschach had to retire, so bummed out
by people seeing bat sh*t crazy in him;
bifurcated blots always dark, grim;
the psychometrist always filled with doubt.
Rorschachs are so flat earth, fractals are round --
but round like folding origami planes
twisty scintillating excitement lanes,
I reckon, with multiverse themes to astound.
If I had to do it over again
I'd not write sonnets, for god's sake. Amen.