tears like these   you imagine are the kind that drown   the deluge filling even the pores of your skin your nostrils inhale the brine tender hairs sway like seaweed as the sea bed expands with a flood of your throat lungs submerging like iron.   the end comes with blue-ringed lips dry with salt.   but tears like these are fists of sandpaper scouring your lashes, irises, pupils, the burning whites, the way sand teeths mountains to nothingness.   the way so much nothing like the expanse of the sea, the desert, or the sky can blind.       4.14.05 s.spachman