Denmark’s a prison
Where all are guards and all are inmates -
I must be the Queen
For I am held in chains,
Caught by the currents of my own thoughts;
Alas – I never learned to swim.
I am an echo chamber,
A thought is a ball kicked over and over and over and
Can I not pass law to cease this bruisement?
Goal! I speak,
And my thought is no longer contained within me
But in the world, circling the pates of the court.

Sweet, your lover calls you,
Even now;
As the battle with corruption corrupted you.
Justice, you promised me;
I no longer believe in justice.
I loved him, though his love was a leash;
You took from me my cage and now I cage myself.
Scheming and plotting against schemers and plotters –
No longer knowing ourselves as once we did,
No longer viewing the world as what it is –
If only I had seen!
You would not have abandoned me now.

You will not come again?
You will not come again.
The King is fallible,
The usurper of God is not omnipotent;
I see the traces of that which he strives to hide.
His mask is good, true, but –
A mask cannot hide all:
England is the trickster’s smiling blade,
I know so.
I mourn you, as I mourn all that I know:
This ends with the destruction of a nation.

I miss your presence beside me.
Your soft eyes, looking only at my face,
At my face only.
I was safe with you.
Hearts mirrored in forbidden affections;
Switch places with me,
Let us not be ****** for desire.
Marriage is man and wife, man and wife,
You saw the lies.

Kick, quick, pick the flowers,
One for each noble skeleton.
I show their secrets in petals and songs:
The language of the mad, the insane, the crazed fools –
Fool I am, I see all, hear all, know all.
Hang their weeds in the weep of the willow,
Cursed crowns of concealed corruption.

I reach –

A tear breaks –

And I am overwhelmed by swirling thoughts,
Sinking deeper into the abyss of my mind.
Smiling trickster, smiling blade – Pretty Ophelia!
A will not come again.
I will not come again.
No one will mourn me,
There will be no one to remember:
This ends with the destruction of a nation.

multifaceted
not fool
not madness
crash water in your morning face
select your character in front of the gaper
harness the void in your recess
and begin the act that voices the business ;
the   trade   that   will   be   this   day ;
the interaction,
the fist and the currency

a scrap of our poetry is hanging
on the line that we've drawn
scraps of our poetry, playing in
the space between

scraps of our poetry
little by little dissolve to void
scraps of our poetry
hurt and heal my heart.

scraps of us, I throw and keep
to and fro
till its wholeness is here
you, with me.

f**k my head, my thoughts.
or don't.
cause they already are.

Nothing feels in place,
places i've never been to
stay far away from reach.
Your hand not there to reach.
for me.
stop me.
from falling over edge.

Just people all around.
not really being here.
familiy, friends,
drugs, alcohol and breaking.
so is my head.
fix me.

Where is the place i'll meet you?
Take me away,
i beg.

Why do i fall already?
Reach for my hand,
just quick.

Madness magic
Same thing

Lover's Hymn:

Notes of music,
Written on a scarlet parchment,
Left unsigned, sound like her;
The sweetest of God's tunes.
Alas, of such a token, vanity be the consummation?

Oh, but then how the Summer Sun,
That the Bard measured his beloved against,
Dissolves into the heavenly ether;
And how the Moon, looks but so marred!
Fie, Mortals, who be no kin to her, whose unwithering grace evades all reason.

By poor sonnets, and by humble songs,
Love's pursuit, that one might consider vain,
Gives eternal joy, for a moment's pain,

Sage's Sermon:

Never, never a lover's discretion believe,
For never a lover's eye does poise fair,
And never does his ear justly measure.
For so is the grasp of unhinged affection;
That a moment's joy seems to last forever,
And a lifetime's misery seems meaningless.

they push and push and push you
until you wonder where the light is,
if there's an end in sight,
if you should create that ending.
you're tired of wearing yourself thin,
of sacrificing your health for others,
of not being able to breathe.

when the madness echoes
from the walls of your mind,
you extend your hand for help.
you may think you're alone,
but you'll feel another hand in yours.
they'll help you find your way,
and you'll be okay.