What do you do when you don't feel anything?

When the myriad of emotions

That coursed through your blood, in the hope that you'll spill it and validate their existence,

Have vanished, and are replaced by

A stony excuse for

The renunciation of relation

That makes you ridicule

The slightest expression of depression

And makes you a silly mule

Snorting through the arid burden

Humiliation certain,

Hurting, Flirting, Asserting

Your sentiments decadent,

The rage at being forgotten

Coursing through your scarlet veins

It's like my mind is up and alert and

Believes in what it says

Hears,

Sulks at.

It is true.

All the bulk. All the sulk.

None of the love.

None of the achievement; none of the thrill from looking at good numbers.

Lies, hisses my mind.

Insecurity? My heart bleats.

Stop it, says my mind.

Stop it, reconciles my heart.

Stop feeling? I ask them both.

Stop writing, say they.

Stop meeting people.

Stop living up to the journey

And letting yourself break every mile.

Stop believing in a fuller morrow.

Stop pulling through off bits you borrow.

Stop faith. Stop hope.

Stop investment.

And elope.

And elope.

And elope.

The bluntness of it all beckons me through

The fallacies and rigid conformities

of truth.

And I sink.

And I flail

And I drown.

And I wake.

Ready, again,

To believe. To hope.

To invest.

And cope.

And cope.

And cope.