By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
The nights snapped out of the sight like a lizard’s eyelid:
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.
The Hanging Man in Ariel by Sylvia Plath
Nothing better than reading that poem whilst listening to a Youtube interview of the career of Sarah Kane, and then writing a play about a schizophrenic woman who was misdiagnosed as a psychopathic killer. That’s my evening summed up.