Soliloquy of the Solipsist

Gaia is omg moment! omg! omg! omg! sylvia plath! you make me so happy. i am so happy! happy happy happy!( now if only french didn't suck me into an empty bleak abyss of hell at the end of every school day...)
so today during english we just went to the library and read poetry. like, the whole period. i love my life. I love poetry. I've always loved poetry. Ok- not exactly true I used to think it was self-involved and scoffed at it in all my sixth grade wisdom, but the point is that for the last few years I've really liked it, enjoyed it, and thought it was beautiful even if i never understood wat the poet was getting at. I enjoy reading Emily Dickinson because she never makes sense her words are just beauty in themselves, and the same with all the other poets i've ever read. But Sylvia Plath- she, like, speaks to me, man. Like I could just read her forever on. Her voice sounds like a friend. And I don't mean that in the cheesy way, sorry. I mean I know her. Or at least I feel like I do.

This poem makes my life.

Soliloquy of the Solipsist

I?
I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins itself from under my feet;
When my eyes shut
These dreaming houses all snuff out;
Through a whim of mine
Over gables the moon's celestial onion
Hangs high.

I
Make houses shrink
And trees diminish
By going far; my look's leash
Dangles the puppet-people
Who, unaware how they dwindle,
Laugh, kiss, get drunk,
Nor guess that if I choose to blink
They die.

I
When in good humor,
Give grass its green
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun
With gold;
Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott any color and forbid any flower
To be.

I
Know you appear
Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it's quite clear
All you beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
From me.