Sylvia Plath

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am read more

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.

For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.

The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm

The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll read more

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.