Those inexplicable days of utter chaos and confusion
where I find no tangible fault in the world
nobody is dying
no horrible car accident
nothing is too terrible
But I just want to hunker down
and let salty water flow from my eyes.
Yet I hold back not because of any conceptions of society
that men aren’t supposed to cry for trivial non-matters like these
I hold back because I don’t have a real concrete reason
to cry for the sake of crying
other than the fact that my poems still read
like a crocodile attempting to do ballerina.
Oh fuck it.
Let the glorious waterfall commence.
Ah wait never