because he is beyond this world, this world
to which i belong.
"translate this! and that!"
no thank you, i refuse to shout from rafters, only
to have them correct me time and time again.
we pick apart ideas, searching for truths
beneath what appear to be lies and a great loss of
something that may or may not resemble integrity.
the bard wanted love in every sense of the word
but he never quite grasped all of it at once, even when
his name fell from tongues in shining globs of wonder.
i quote thee, "to be or not to be,"
and this is what i would ask of you in a midsummer night's dream:
with so much and so little at stake, how am i to decide?
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