my heart is a desolate, barren wasteland, and yet, my mind is like a cirque de soleil performance, with my thoughts trapezing around, almost touching as they swing from silk ropes,
yet never quite reaching close enough.
how can one be so empty, yet so full?
the emptiness does not represent a lack of emotion, but simply the inability to process the tidal wave of hurt and despair that penetrate the surface.
it is much warmer to push the waves down and ground them up like coffee beans, releasing a sweet aroma
yet not allowing the cup to overflow, soaking everything around it with the stench of day-old coffee.