I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
Sylvia PlathThe sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces.
Sylvia PlathIt was sometime in October; she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.
Sylvia PlathI laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.
Sylvia Plath