If eyes could evacuate part of the sadness
Through tears
I would like to fill mine in a cup
And drink a sip every night before going to sleep
A time where my lids are hung up to the ceiling
And my ears deafened by the silence
The stars won't shine
And pools of salty water would soak the pillow
Or the bed
Or wherever my head would have landed
Turning, stopping, turning, knocking
Aspiring, hopelessly to come to an end
Assuming the best spot keeps the brain firmly closed
Thinking of that spot
I am still thinking
Depriving
And diving back into the loop
Scarlet roots pulsating  
Microscopic heart in each zone
Patches of darkness on every side
Gradually dipped into the abyss
Of auto-destruction
Drank enough
I knock on the crystal-clear glass
Droplets fall on the middle of my forehead
To the edges, temples
And melt with the dried, former crisped layer
The cup is desolated
I lay it on my face
Deranging the eyelashes
Spasms of fluttering
And I burst, into laughter
Giggling lava
The recipient quivers, trembles
And falls onto the solid surface
Where slightly before shattering
It stood, there, a micro-second, caressing the ground
It seemed the steadiness of it, did not like the gentle stroke
Or maybe the fine glass just harmed itself willingly
And I watched the splinters and fragments
Bouncing and covering
Breathing their last breath
Losing their transparent color
And I cried again
Willingly
Not only because I somehow helped the cup to brake
The floor starred
Little faces,
Grinning
Decomposing
All were mine