Sleep with Shakespeare,lie with Joyce

It seemed a good idea at the time.But the timing was wrong.Shakespeare was my boyfriend’s friend.To be honest he was a cat.So to preserve my modesty I slept with the cat and not the boyfriend.Just another natural disaster in every day life.

Still,a cat has eyes unlike a flea which is what I sleep with now;
I know only because it bites me in the night!Possibly it was from the cat and became a multitude like my sins .which are mainly of omission.A few are cultivated and the rest grew like weeds.I feel such shame when I think of my life,sleeping with everything but a human being. Intimacy with moths does not contribute to literature or any other human undertaking and yet it saved a man from torment loving a woman with such a strange personality.So that is good.I also wrote a few plays

A midsummer night’s scream.

Julius seized me.

Richard the Blurred

King Fear

MacDuff,the pudding

Hamrent

Hamerous

Hams of old England.

Nymphs and Leopards.

Liebscreamsche

Nietzsche’s word was my father.

Who won the Bore?