"“And now that the hour is mine and I’ve been writing the better part of the day, in a coma, not being able to breathe for crying.” Sylvia Plath
Mine the hour
A coma of tears
In which I have no memory
A black abyss of confusion
Of voices and faces and eyes aflame
To write the better part of a day
And yet have no writing to show for it
And I cannot breathe for crying"
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