“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
By Sylvia Plath

Skulle man ha tatt opp denne blogginga igjen? Jeg stemmer for nei. Alt jeg tenker på er stort sett fjell og fordervelse. Aka vindkraftutbygging. Det eter meg opp. Knuser meg. Smadrer sjelen til pai. Mad Girl´s Pie. Hjertet mitt smuldres på toppen. Velbekomme.

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