“ How shall I age into that state of mind?
I am the ghost of an infamous suicide,
My own blue razor rusting in my throat.
O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at
Your gate, father - your hound-bitch, daughter, friend.
It was my love that did us both to death.
I am the ghost of an infamous suicide,
My own blue razor rusting in my throat.
O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at
Your gate, father - your hound-bitch, daughter, friend.
It was my love that did us both to death.
—
Electra on Azalea Path by Sylvia Plath (via teeteringinpurgatory)
Yes, dear. Sylvia Plath. Without any hint of self-consciousness whatsoever.
(Source: viciation)
