Today I felt like Sylvia Plath. br The triteness of the present took my breath away. br br Indifferent faces, hurrying, jostling on this anonymous street br My thoughts were fractal, I stood alone br Unable to keep up with those hurrying feet. br br Why does life go on this way. br Where do people go to, these hustling crowds? br Where do I go to when I am alone? br br I've no gifts of repartee; no, not even enough sense br Not to handle hot coals. All my life I've fought br And rebelled...and often lost. br br In this twilight world, things are left undone. br In this silent world my brain fumbles and tries br To write, to form, reform and conform. br br Thus, shutting out the present, drawing the blinds br I write these lines, trite, but I tried br Today I felt like Sylvia Plath.