πΌ π€πππ‘ π‘π ππ π€βπππ ππ πππ π ππ π ππππ ππππππ ππ ππ π‘βπ πππ π‘ πππ ππ¦ π‘βπ π ππ, π€βππβ ππ πππ ππ π‘βπ πππππ‘ βπππππ.
βSylvia Plath, Letters Home
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I lust for him, and in my mind I am ripped to bits by the words he welds and wields [β¦]
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath β β 5th April 1956
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when sylvia plath saidΒ βbeing born a woman is my awful tragedy. from the moment i was conceived i was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than penis and scrotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable feminity. yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of scene, anonomous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that i am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. my consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. yet, god, i want to talk to everybody i can as deeply as i can. i want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at nightβ
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β
Are you washed in the blood?
In the soul cleansing blood of the Lamb?
Are your garments spotless, are they white as snow?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?
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Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.
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every bruise i mysteriously get is a touch from an angel
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PoΓ©me Maudit (detail) by Santiago Caruso, 2013
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