Love increases in pure simplicity,
then dreams of murder and complicity.
Jung explains my guilt as balanced psychcal--
thoughts, violations but archetypal.
And so this fool experiment I tried.
To me myself I kind of . . . no, I lied.
Stop night wakings and marish-driven screams.
Cease they did by thinking ill, so it seems.
Does love then manifest from harm or good?
We such stuff as dreams are made of, or should.
So behold I evil in my waking;
I thus manage this day's deeds, though quaking.
If dreams are countered in my daylight state,
Goodness still the burden is 'gainst this weight.
