In my mellow hollow shell, there remains the blackness of shadows of memories grappling themselves to be set free from the menacles my liquid thoughts refuse to unshackle. I'm wafting sighs to heaven, holding in the hardships of a broken heart, refusing to cry. The tears fall anyway, not from my eyes, but they hang each drop from the very nerves that once held the intensity of love and now has been transformed into a limitless thought thinking, self indulging, deprecating joke that I'm wholly infused with. I'm desiccated.