Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet,
a Montague, a Capulet,
both of them as mad as loons,
their secret pact an awkward tune.

Where was the strength she needed now?
She could not find her heart's voice,
the why, the how,
to tell her family
of her personal hell,
the voices, the rapid, sudden onset of
detachment from reality,
but perhaps it was just as well,
the bell jar felt so comfortable.

Along came Romeo,
all cut in chromeo,
chips on both shoulders,
clouds in his head.

Am I insane, he asks himself,
or just the lonesome loser
the shrinks assumed I was?
Because, I still believe in love supreme,
sublime, of tenderness and unkind cuts,
Juliet, who struts between the raindrops,
the place where even angels fear to tread.

She checks herself in
with a twisted grin,
and maniacal plans
for her silky hands.

Back at the ward, Juliet hoards
a machine-gun magazine
of Thorazine, and vows
she will not hear the voices again.
Romeo watches from the shadows,
confused, transfixed,
knowing that no good
could come of this.
He follows her to the park,
through the dark of night
and tortured dreams.
He grabs his love and says
"My dove, please, give me the pills."

Hip hip hooray,
calloo calay!
Today's the day
I die!

Romeo shouts
"I will not let you take your own life,
and I cannot let you live in agony.
Let me do this for you,
let me join you, unfettered,
in the afterlife."
Juliet gave him her stolen prize.
Romeo drew a knife,
and out of love,
cut out her heart,
and then his own.

The tale is done,
their spirits rise,
peacefully
towards the skies.