The wanking has gone through the roof these last few days. It's a sure sign of inner turmoil.
Every time Ive done one of those I feel Im in some unspoken battle of wits with the poet. Once the poet asked me to talk about myself so he could find a topic and I ended up getting a poem that went essentially 'heres things a stupid person is into' followed by everything I had just relayed to him
I bet you can't though I bet you can't even write a single line
Some subjects are just irreducible... larger than life, really... or verse