the state is all
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crown of gold and silver ivy
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glory, what glory there be but none
what theatrical mess be this
what character is myself but myself
truth be told but told falsely
squares of white fall upon us all
petals of roses that are red lay about
truth is but the lie myself lives
my crimes are but paper in the wind
but each action ripples through time
the hourglass breaks; myself falls dead

stringer of words
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brown pouch of bronze coins
every hour is anyone's guess
pond of gold silver bronze
life's white cloak becomes as death dances
the harp plays to combat the tarpit
red berries and green leaves;
poisoned my lover; to the grave you go
ghostly figures enrapture myself
wooden fixtures are figured torment
feature in the garden wastes much time

chain reaction
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myself is sad: why is myself so sad
flowers are wonderful, until they wither to nothing
myself is insane, but so is the ordinary person
in fact, my crimes are but paper in the wind
that will displease the doctors and the lawyers
my enemy is myself, as myself is myself
cats love prawns; if only myself loves life like that
it's criminal to have books badly printed
it's sentimental to read the book many times,
differently printed with different illustrations

whirl
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the fountains in the garden let out fake blood
red over red, red rose petals floating upon
the stone path had cracks all throughout it
the wooden furniture burned utterly to ash
how these young ladies drone on about marriage:
evoking and handsome and rich: we all have dreams
disturbing creatures exit the black pond
vivid red; round and round; we all live in sin
rusty gate symbolising poverty as per the critic
let us not waste time; broken hourglass

stipulation
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the grey of the moth is too much punishment
in school, the wooden ruler to the buttocks
oh wicked myself; why is myself so wicked
my crime my crime: what is it this time
planes, tanks, soliders: defeat is victory
freedom is foolish; ignorance really is strength
but what are we but puppets dancing on strings
you have taken nearly everything from myself
pull down her clothes: you will be punished
fear is good; fear is all

olive branch
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as wonderous as coloured marble columns
toy soldier falls dead in the mud
three decker warship guards the port
the bridge of the 'water to land' warship downs
blood runs over coins in the wooden box
'the fountains are dry'; the fountains of horror
the picnic; it's obvious the wooden box is now empty
myself is but the toy soldier to the real soldier:
blood pours all over the marble floor of the throne room;
the golden orb has been stolen; it's in the painting

tick tick tick
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people are so lifeless they are mannequins;
they are so toneless they are answering machines
we are being attacked; 'state of fear'
myself dances on my own tomb
full of regret more than drops of rain
defeat is victory: overpowered is an understatement
power is underrated; love is the most overrated thing there is
soap in water: 'that's what we should be talking about'
poisoned berries: yum
myself falls dead; gets back up

the crux of the matter
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banners of blood red hang between ivory columns:
my ornate past; my rose gold future
fake blood pours down the steps;
discs of fire burn, lighting up human wire sculptures
daybreak brings sorrow; nightfall equals absolution
the symbol; drowns in foundation
fake blood fills the floor; splattering the walls
the black and white clothes displace poverty;
destiny is all; my only path is the warpath
the dagger of time is but the broken hourglass

state of play
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myself was in the muddy water:
and as mad as it was; myself liked it;
myself really liked it;
what war is this myself cannot tell;
but what myself can tell you is:
myself is going to have my downfall;
she is going to be my downfall;
myself cannot stop her from it;
so, then myself will die and die evermore;
this era, is the end of me