The jeremiads of delirium;
Drinking lukewarm tea over a late candle
Like Hamlet in a power-cut;
Affecting his own audience of himself,
Hastening soliloquies through gritted sophisms,
Withered and spun to intentional fragility,
This Portuguese man-of-war separates himself
And while twice the fish, accelerates his undoing
By his undoing and is undone.
Dead in the water,
To be poked topmost by sticks;
To be swept tendrilous by self-serving tides,
Dissolving in indifferent though temperate waters,
Two homeopathic droplets added to the reliquary not of land.
A jar of sea water
Or the Prince of Denmark at his most potent?
To drink or not to drink and by opposing, end under the sun.
The divination from the vomitus will lead to the truth
Or to the sea by the principle of attraction
The zooids re-find themselves in infinite liquidity
Hamlet drowns by proxy as Ophelia bloats between two rocks.
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The character of "Hamlet" has fascinated me for years, since school, even playing him once in a workshop production, an event which left various academics either disturbed, aroused or appalled. Shakespeare would have approved of that, I hope. The emotional boundaries between true humanity, profanity and an almost visceral spirituality have always shouted at me with "Hamlet" and this work came out of thinking about that too much, maybe..