Intersection of being

Living the dream? Not quite.. Ok I am lying, not at all.

With a heart as cold and hard as a stone, my mind un mendable. I take my pen to paper. With thoughts that show no emotions, My eyes hollow and hands stiff to the touch . I pen down words that holds no weight. Love that saw no days, a life that has no soul.

And yet like a lyricist and his music, these words flow out like they should. Like poetry and rhyme my mind does not stop.

As loud as I scream for the words to stop, it flows on and on... My mind like an intricate clock that keeps ticking. Cessation is almost impossible.