Стихи и рассказы из категории mad

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I am mad with
And no one understands my plight
Only the
Understand the agonies of the wounded,
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This mad carnival of loving,
This wild orgy of the flesh,
Ends at last and we two, sobered,
Look at one another, yawning
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The flabby wine-skin of his
Yields to some pathologic strain,
And voids from its unstored
The driblet of an aphorism
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"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again
(I think I made you up inside my head
)The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
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The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white
Hooked in the stones of the wall,
The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter,
Cassandra,
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There came to Grasmere's pleasant valeA stranger maid in tatters clad,
Whose eyes were wild, whose cheek was pale,
While oft she cried, "Poor Kate is mad
"Four words were all she'd ever say,
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" — — it was at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing  `Twinkle, twinkle, little bat
How I wonder what you're at
'You know the song, perhaps
" "I've heard something like it," said Alice
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I want to sell my soul to someone.
I don't need it any more.
Because of it, I have become one,
In whom there is a bigest war.
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I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
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