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