Underlining and writing between the lines of Ariel, Sylvia Plath—
Logbook, reading analytical but with heart and intuition

I underlined the words “Red hear blooms through her coat” and left the remaining Line which is “So astoundingly—”

I also underlined “Unasked for
By a sky”

I wrote a reminder to use “carbon monoxide” in a song.

If I underlined today, two weeks later on a full moon night, I would.

Writing o my god instead of oh my god feels exhilirating for some reason. “Touching and melting. Nowhere.”

And from “The night dances” I underlined
“Why am I given
These lamps, these planets
Falling like blessings, like flakes”

Then on the poem “Elm”
I wrote another.
Every feeling is a shadow or a ligth;
An electric one is one we keep in memory.
Merciless moons orbit around me
Every hour to shine light on the racing
Times,

While racing hearts remain anxious or
Full of life, like impatient jets all alien
And far away like our memories locked in
Tears.

Pt.2

I feel ready to burst like
Bombs. An atrocious sun and
An atrocious summer burying
My hopes— an upside down seasonal
Depression. Kamikaze or was it
A rollercoaster. How to jump out
Of the visions of kaleidoscopes of
Shadows how to survive* it is what you fear
Most that shreds your dreams until
You kill all fear; but your desires
Eat you alive too.

Pt.3

Barely hanging on, this hinge of skin
Cap of a thumb like plath’s. A
Red, fluid celebration
Too red this tiny river and bright with
The excitement of endings, arrow coming
Straight out of the heart to find its
Home back to its bow now you bow down
To the times you killed willing in pursuit
Of happiness alien and thrilling but they
Weren’t even your darlings just planted
Seeds by others by mothers of mothers
Fathers of fathers but you still bow down
To an inherited vision you call it vision
You call curse a blessing a treason when
Heart can shoot all dead love out
And put them in their place.

Pt.4

Blood-hot worlds we made
But we aren’t made for

I read about a blood-hot and personal
World in the heatwave season European
Feel lucky for I am Middle Eastern and ironic
And clueless like the rose-colored glasses I embrace at times
Like these where I escape the mirrors
Or mistake them as smoke and mirrors
Focus hyper and whisper lies in second person
Shout again in affirmative in hallucinations
The only solution to living in a blood-hot
World getting hotter and hotter beyond the omega
Block what in the heavens and hells I do and don’t
Believe in.

Pt. 5

Voiceless

On another note I see a page
Another one— glittering with
Meaning,
“Glittering
Glittering and digesting

Voicelessness. The snow has no voice”
And I think of all those other things with
No voice like a page on a screen
And some letters becoming letters to
Eyes brains intestines ready in the
Future to digest the digestible
And reject and mourn the suffocation
Like feeding on lies for so long you
Forget what truth tastes like or the
Opposite you smell a lie from a mile
High— no clubs for me please only
Hearts thanks

Pt.6

My maslow feels off upside down.
Do I really need music like I need food
Like shelter?
Soul more needy than
Body— this desire to be and flee
The hierarchy the body the mind to
Be an eternal soul—

Pt.7

(after watching “Obsession”)

I promised not to watch
Any horror movies but it is only
Necessary for the occasional thrills For fictional villains will never
Compare to an arrow coming at you
Or the eye you see in the back of
Your mind pointing at your
Undying flaws your annoying
Mediocrity. Something melts within.
Is it the fluid heart leaking, escaping the body.
Fear is something godly and gorgeous
Do you believe in arrows, too.

Pt.8

Rays of sunlight fight the cloud lingering
They will linger on I fear but no fear for I
Have a new head monstrous but not grotesque

Shadows of doubts linger in my body’s head
But my heart has grown another one
On her own; with her own
Ideas.

Dangerous but endangered, it is a small
Planet in another universe, impossibly
Determined and stubborn to the point
Of decaying in boundless idealism. I try
To dance and adopt radical optimism and
I try again everytime I fail and I fail a lot.

How the tone changes throughout the day
Throughout the night. I need more research
I feel but my soul-search has become
Obnoxious and intoxicating so I befriend stasis
In the dark. Call out all of the lionesses of gods
Look at orange fruits and berries and merries
Going round to distract my sick pointy nasal voice
In the voicelessness I adopted; I have lots and lots
Of children now.

My filtering has come to far a far cry from a child’s cry now
I evolved and became a big baby with other
Fantastical creatures not under not on but
Floating above my bed and I tread softly then
Crush those in my vicinity if their eyes turn
Green and I turn white and heavy I am no
Longer seen on their feeds their screens
And all this screen time needed to leak into
My poetry breaking free for I need some
Change of scenery instead of these shrieks
These eternal episodes of loneliness I call
Me-time—