Sunday, February 20, 2011
Crying.
It's strange, you know? Crying. Just liquid from eyes connoting monumental extremes. And for what? Cathartic relief? Because you just can't help it? Just to... fit in. By letting out. And it's stranger still when you try to force tears out to achieve all the above outcomes. Eyelid squeeze, lips purse, nose squinch. Before you know it, you're a raisin. Sad.
If you're wondering how I know this, it's because I do it all the time. Try to hang out my emotions to dry on my cheeks. Forcing them out, making them stay for as long as possible. A socially acceptable, visually pleasing (or maybe not?) orgasm on your face. You said don't cry. So I do it all the time. I try. I'm a rebel like that. Does that make me more appealing? James Dean at your playground. Just waiting on you. Waiting on you all the god damn time. Dryly weeping into my jacket when you're here, and when you're not. I figure you'll give in some time. At a time when time stops making a bastard out of you and me. I say it out - you and me, me and you. I like the sound of that. Makes me feel all tingly inside. I'm convulsing, really.
It's late. I've scraped over one too many rims of beer cans. Circling your skin over metal. Nuzzling my nose against your neck, sniffing aluminium. Did you hear about those girls who used beer bottles to.. you know? That's pretty sick. Wonder if beer cans... Nevermind. I'm wasted on you, shouting at lift doors. Open! Open! Open! Three times a charm but not in this country. I don't know what to do so I hide my face behind glass panes and slide. Slide down until I can smell dog shit. Lower, and lower I fall and did I tell you I can't really breathe without you because without you there's like... this wheezing in my lungs. How is the heart even linked to love? My heart is fine but I feel a need to shit out a kidney or something.
I cannot cry. My life is spinning right in front of me and I cannot cry. I can't mourn its passing. There will be no funeral because no one will attend and those who do will arrive just in time for the buffet. There will be low-grade eclairs. Hell, I'm smashing my eyes against concrete or maybe I'm not but now I can see the sky.
Where are you?
Where am I?
Are the buses still running at this time? What? I've missed the last bus?
Okay, now I'm really crying. I'm actually crying! I can feel sadness gather at my corneas for the great departure! Wait... what? It was just a raindrop. Just rain. The clouds are sobbing all over my damn face.
brin bit this at ; 2:41 AM
