I.

Red. There you are!

Magenta. I still have the will to go!
I will tread on strange lands
And whelm the rotten wastes.

M. But peculiar!
You look quite feral now!

R. That's not I.

M. Then what is this?

R. A new representation of your Heart.

M. Are there more hearts?

R. No, just thine one.

M. How many are the representations?

R. Two, I and she.

M. Then I'd guess she's from what I've gone through.
Whence one question arises: Where art thou from?

R. I've been with you since your breath,
I am your protorepresentation.
And she is only secondary;
She shall be under my command --
Speaking of which, I'll take care of her.

M. I will believe you, for it better be true.
My Heart! You never tell me what goes,
But if I don't understand what goes
In this world, it cannot be mine!

R. I know by heart, O Vessel,
That you'd ignore what I'd tell you.
The solution is simple now:
We have to change this world
To fit your orthogonal rules.

M. Your words delect me.

II.

M. Now, what do we with this remnant,
The former body I wore
That I will not associate with me?

R. Leave as. It's insignificant.

M. Have you heard of a young German wanderer
Who burnt all his poem, for poems can't be
Mediocre but are only good or bad?
It's the same reason that I have nothing.
And I have never written a poem
But ramblings. You will remember
That I don't know music or poetry.
But my heart senses the rhythm and emotion
That we share on this world, O love...

R. Allons-y.

M. My old body and womb!
That thou burn in the last day
And the ash reach the heavens
To smother the dégénérés!

For fresh air I walk on.