PINNED TO CONCRETE
LIKE A CHRIST OF
ABSURDITY
A MILLSTONE AROUND
MY OWN NECK
YOU GET USED TO
THE PAIN
YOU HAVE TO
TO LIVE WITH IT
USED TO THE
LONELINESS OF BLACK
NOTHING
NOTHING BUT ME
TO TALK TO
WHERE THE FUCK
ARE YOU GOD
WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU
I WRITE BECAUSE I
CAN
IT'S ALL I DO
IT'S ALL I HAVE
I DON'T CARE WHAT
I WRITE
I JUST WRITE TO
BURN OFF THE MISERY
SYLVIA PLATH UNDERSTOOD
SHE LIVED AND DIED
WHERE I AM
SHE WROTE
AND COMMITTED SUICIDE
I LIKE HER WRITING
I LIKED HER WILL
HER DARKNESS
AND HER LOVE
SHE IS GONE BUT
HER WORDS
ARE HERE
WITH MY WORDS
MINGLED LIKE SILK
IN THE WIND
