No more.

I don't know why I've become so cold. That I have to convince myself- by swallowing cups after cups after cups of coffee, or anything. Just to force myself to feel warmth. Heat can be felt transferring itself from the paper cup to my fingertips. But it is not even winter, and my insides are frozen-

So is time.
The traffic in my mind is perfectly still.
I think what was left of perseverance and hope has been vacuum. Crumpled in the corner of my parts somewhere, distilled.

& maybe this indifference is a mechanism.

I don't want to break anymore. I don't understand this anymore.

I don't know what love is anymore.