Midnight Emotions.

I wet my pillow,
With the ablutions of midnight's emotions, 
 That boiled in my heart during the day. 
The steam was boiled by the scorching sun,
 And catalysed by the endless expected tidings.
 It was a catharsis, a thrombosis of sorts. 
A spontaneous combustion, an uncontrollable 
Yielding of all sorts of imaginary plugs 
That stopped the orifices in my eye from 
Turning into a sprinkler. 
 But I tasted my spit in my mouth,
 A slimy version of an emotional outbreak. 
I felt meek, weak and vulnerable.
 A glass doll or a hollow Matryoshka,
 My tiny core was sad and bleeding.