Memories of Once Lady MacBeth

To bed, to bed Thou will not go; It Is the Dark of a mid-night heart That keeps this creature sustaind’d. The grim of thine eye, the grimmest of Leer. Watching, searching for open wounds, As the Bait is consumed. Within chambered bulkheads conjures The hate bestrode on Victims brought by siren. In her gown, In her bed, From where she unlocks Distain; writes her notes, forth Speaks like poison in Thou ear.

Listen and beware, you can hear The thoughts of this bewitched:

Witches'mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,

Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,

Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew

Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips,

Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-delivered by a drab,

Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a Tiger's chaudron,

For the ingredients of our cauldron.

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Cauldron of squallier, and cauldron Spent, a witch that Fouls the air with These words she notes. Blood runs black within and without of those hands whose Quill be more like Foil and Dagger. And All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten those little hands.