How to write prose poetry and still have plenty of tears left.

If I knew enough about the different types of British people, I could explain why it seems like when some of them talk, it seems like they're biting through the words like a piece of meat.

I've been watching a lot of cooking shows recently, because I live alone and have to cook every meal by myself, and I've been scraping the bottom of a barrel of sadness recently.

Eventually, I think this deep well will draw up empty, and like a homestead gone dry, I'll move on.

How to write prose poetry and still have plenty of tears left for no one to see.

Excercise.

I was going to write you a letter, dear reader.  I was going to write you a letter that told you how I feel, because I'm realizing now that my New Years Resolution is to have feelings.  To be specific it's to have feelings and tell you those feelings.  Yes, it is March, but sometimes a resolution happens bears its fruit in March and you pick that fruit, and you mash that fruit into the keyboard and it spells out this letter.

Realizing that, it was just a simple step to realize that instead of writing you a letter in which I s-p-e-l-l-e-d out my emotional roller coaster that is living alone and struggling through a job "muy frustrado," instead I would tell you about Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

(At this point, you dear reader should be glad I have chosen not to complete this thought exercise.)