I want to cry

Where do I go now?
Could I possibly
Take my guts out
Clean them
With a toothbrush
And put them back

The night
Has descended
And I wait
For the next morning
To escape
Fom myself
Drown meaninglessly
In trite conversations
And then
In absinthe
Towards the evening

That mail
Has not yet arrived
And mails which have
Put wrinkles
On my forehead
Do I cry
Out of devotion
Or for the lack of it?

I hear nothing
Behind me
And soon
I will hear
Heavy breath
A body will go
Up and Down

I will switch off
The light
And lay awake
In the darkness
I will feel thirsty
And drink water
From the bottle

Would I cry?
Shall I cry?
May I cry?
Can I cry?
What does it take
To just BE
And cry?