154 Sonnets

Each a verse form of cathexis selfie
where Shakespeare linked his ink with how to think
about what we would call psychology
packaged as an Elizabethan shrink
in a pre-Freudian disposition  
pre-empting any Oedipal complex
or too withal awkward disquisition  
in the canon days of renaissance sex
when fretfulness was as much troth plighted
as syphilis by an alehouse knave
or a wench to see a knighthood blighted
until nullified by a churchyard grave...
as their sliding pain and pleasure scale
also brought them to little avail.