The stress of spirit in childtime shame
Is hard to fathom when no longer young.
The heart would care, but the mind looks for blame
or some excuse to hurry and be done.
Enjoyed by men alive but dead to joy.
Past reason hunting lonesome boredom’s pause;
Past reason hated, and thereby unknown–
unreal because we’ve got our certain laws.
Some children say some suppress memories
too scary bad big looming wrong to hold.
Others scoff and say no they don’t so please
no more confusing the easily sold.
You go down within till you hit the place
that hits you back, you spasm body face.
So who knows? And whatcha gonna do
about a hurt once diffuse
unknown but wide
and now compact
angry wounded howl
you could carry in a purse.
Stole some lines:
Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.