I write like a little possessed bitch lately. My wrists are getting c.t.s. from bending over the keyboard all the time. I am in my reclusive, subdued mood, when I hate returning phone calls and tend to cry every five minutes. And there is no room in my little house for crying. There is not a single corner for tearshedding and hairpulling. I try to swallow my tears but there is no place for them inside my eye pouches either. It is overcrowded there too. So I write, about nothing and nobody but my little itchy-bitchy self, full of donuts and selfpity. Tears are morally corruptive, a sneaky weapon of the weaklings and women. Wait, I am one. I hate the way they sneak in when I speak to my father or when my sister hangs up on me. They sow my eyes shut and I always get a headache after crying like a lactating cow for an hour or more. But they taste salty and I like salt.
Sometimes, they come out right after I daydream about past touches and kisses in a cold Jersey room. There, I also understood the purpose of letting other people see my tears because I want them to see the hurt caused and think about mending, instead of looking for the nearest exit and thanking their lucky stars that there were no waterworks.
Sometimes, I watch myself in the mirror while crying. I have learned how my face moves during tearshedding and how to maximize the dramatic effect. You never know when I might have to convince some coldhearted creep and try to touch their frozen heart with my warm tears that taste so good.
The one thing I know is that I have to let them come out. My little precious body fluids must be let free to flow seductively down my cheeks and into the hollow of my neck like delicate springs or torrential rivers, depending on what caused them. And I always must sleep afterwards. If they are stopped from fully coming down, I know that I must prepare to pay a price.
I wonder how much water is there in a tear. it does not look like very much, but then there are so many feelings contained in it, that sometimes it might fill an ocean.