Laying in the hospital bed taking in
stares and remarks, reminding
me of the inconvenience of my 3am
breakdown. The pills
still swirling around in my stomach. It's
funny how when I'm
down someone's determined to still
drive me into the ground. For that very
reason, being taken away to go stay
behind those four walls in that hospital
room, walking around in grippy socks,
and eating
crappy food on a tray, felt safe. I was
safe from peoples abuse
resulting from the inability to love.
-from my book "The Sylvia Plath in me"
I hear that after she broke up
with me
she herself broke down.
They say her main-spring unwound
there in the London underground
while waiting for the West Ham tube.
Her knees ground to a halt,
she just toppled over on that platform,
an oily mess.
Eventually she was partly repaired
by several other erstwhile lovers,
but her eyes had narrowed to knife points.
I also was damaged,
my mangled remains were displayed
in a small gallery
just off the Edgeware Rd
one dedicated to performance art.
I hear that after she broke-up with me
she herself broke down.
A friend of a friend said he distinctly heard
her main-spring go.
They say she broke
in the London underground.
while waiting for the West Ham tube train.
One of her many prodding elbows
sprang a leak,
a sharp knee ground to a halt,
a sprocket in her head
escaped out of her open mouth.
She just toppled there on that platform
an oily mess.
She deteriorated fast they say.
Her lower jaw tried to swallow words
made of toothless cogs.
Eventually she was written off
and declared beyond repair.
It was all so very sad.
I also was damaged, my mangled remains
were displayed for weeks in a small art gallery
dedicated to avant garde performance art.
I hear that after she tried to break me
she herself broke down.
A friend of a friend said he distinctly heard
her main-spring go.
They say she broke
in the London underground.
while waiting for the West Ham tube train.
One of her many prodding elbows
sprang a leak,
a sharp knee ground to a halt,
a sprocket in her head
escaped out of her open mouth.
She just toppled there on that platform
into an oily mess.
If I had known at the time
I would have run to her bedside,
however she deteriorated fast they say.
Her lower jaw tried to swallow words
made of toothless cogs.
Her ribcage sprung, gaping open
to reveal the dangling prune
of her heart.
Eventually she was written off
and declared beyond repair.
It was all so very sad.
I also was damaged,
my mangled remains
were displayed for weeks
in a small art gallery
dedicated to avant garde
performance art.
Nervous breakdowns and I seem shot
Process now cus then I did not
Mental breakdowns my brain did stop
I’m seemingly lost but I’ve got my plot
So along ago everyone forgot
they want me to forget, me not
tied and tangled with the pot
now it clears untying knots
Mental breakdowns
My life stopped
You couldn’t break down
so I seem shot
And you want me to forget the lot
it’s my life I’ll forget me not
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