THe Princess Chronicles: VI

[PrinceMyshkin]

There is a poem by Baudelaire
in which he recounts all the errors
and sins that mankind is capable of
and at the end he turns and addresses
his reader directly:
“—Hypocrite lecteur, —mon semblable, —mon frère!”
(Hypocrite reader - my look-alike - my brother!)

Having enumerated as many as I could
of this child-woman’s virtues,
may I say, freely adapting Baudelaire,
My sisters and brothers, my look-alikes,
may each Prince and Princess among you
find your noble consort!

[Sweets America]

I am the nasty Princess of a filthy Prince
You are the dirty old man of a young vile child

Fifty years of sin!
Let’s go to hell together, my Love!
Hand in hand,
And let the flame of our Love
Fan the one of our Lust

How strange it is
That beneath the foul loving
And the impure desire
Seen by the others,
You and I have uncovered a treasure

The JerrySophie world
Where You and I
Are made blind
By the radiance of the marvelous beauty
Which sometimes hurt our eyes.
Beauty of this Love we share
And which knows no boundaries...

And, through our blinded eyes
We, only, see perfect rapture.

[PrinceMyshkin]

If I were as dirty
as you are vile,
or as old as you are young,
if my arms were as long
as your words are tender,
if France were in Quebec
and heaven were in
the here and now...
then I might know
how to end
this attempt at a poem!

[Sweets America]

But ―
My Prince,
Our Love story
Is a poem
To which each day, each thought, each laugh,
Adds a line;
And
Do you really wish
To write the end of this?

[PrinceMyshkin]

But ―
My Prince,
Our Love story
Is a poem
To which each day, each thought, each laugh,
Adds a line;
And
Do you really wish
To write the end of this?

...And they pi--ed each other off
forever afterwards...