Or an even madder one is called "Curse."
Love poem really, it's mad.
"So the well-known gamut run--
love, hate, rage, despair--
he awoke one morning free, breathed a cleaner air.
Bolt upright in bed, he laughed, not a phantom there.
Sad and left, and whole of hearts,
damned the pale girl then, she whose weakness broke at last,
damned the careful man.
Hugged his fate that gave a hard time could break again.
Hearts that finish life entire, hearts the rank and sweet,
never cramped in agony, rode roughshod that beat.
What's that thing?
A human heart, throw the dogs that meat.
Throw it to the pale girl then.
Let her pink and blue beauty mumble at that rag
when the dogs are through.
What's her fitter food?
Except eat her false tongue, too."