.crying is great for a man, you get to re-listen to the same song that pierced your heart, with a cold rationality... and... well... how i watched these great intellects of the western world, pair up arguments to the easily offended, who... never allowed themselves the eloquence of feeling, always perpetuating the championing of thought and reason, never allowing themselves to explore the high-ground of feelings that overpower thoughts, every, single, time; by a mere insistence of accepting music within the confines of what is allowed: empirical digestion!

feelings?! what hurt feelings?!
you're calling these
Lego blocks, abstract of what
otherwise constitute
the complexity of attachment,
feelings?!
i didn't hurt anyone's "feelings"
those weren't feelings...
those were precursors of
feelings...
those were
    |         _          and    /
before someone managed
to illustrate a right-angle triangle...
you haven't felt,
what needs to be felt,
in order to qualify for
an emotion...
if you never cried while
experiencing something beautiful...
namely?
   the royal guards dragoon
guards' rendition of
auld lang syne...
     may Scotland be the tomb
that entombs my heart;
the Welsh, the Irish
and the Scots...
   (insert a happy lamentation)
deserve, so so much more.
- only the most eloquent
thinking produces the most
available emotions
  (with a hint of dill and
cucumber)
that have a heavy-weight
outlet, akin to laughing
or crying...
       but then...
this is an expression
of the masculine constraint
of expressing emotion...
outer gender / genre of
sexuality...
  whoever "justifies"
"hate" speech...
      doesn't know the depth
of emotion...
that can be arrived at,
and culminated with
tears upon listening to a piece
of music...
simple thinking does
simple feeling...
      ****... i have snot
on my mustache...
   i better blow my nose...
once more...
why not knose, but a knife,
and a nose instead of a knight?
English... and their *******
surd eccentricities!
gnome... gnostic...
                   díā-gnostics...
this is not an expression
of a "national" pride...
this is... my root, i tree,
  and what comes after,
the leaves and the fruits...
"hate" speech...
can you even begin to conceive
the primitive nature
of the supposedly, "hurt",
emotions?
   god... i never want to feel
such emotions...
when i feel, i want to experience
the sort of reaction that
reduces me to choking back
on tears, hearing bagpipes...
and thinking of the Highlands...
and snow...
   that's what i want to feel...
no, thinking is actually inferior
to feeling...
but those people who
champion thinking over feeling,
have no knowledge
of the feeling they're "up-against"...
this **** is pure tartan weaving
fabric... trans-generational,
is passes from one mouth
to the next...
               thinking is not superior
to feeling...
no thought can ******* into me
a fit of tears...
  maybe the thinkers were
simply dealing with the retards
of the heart?
i like to think so...
then again... i might as well know so.