"are you writing from the heart?"

no, the hand that holds the pen writing in this piece of paper is not controlled by the heart. every word is measured, carefully chosen by the grey matter swarming my head. words mean too much to be wasted. they hold a bigger power than one thinks. and when they flow straight from the aorta they reveal too much, they betray the feelings bottled up inside. no, i'm not writing from the heart. it's coming straight from the brain, because there's no heart in the receiving end of the words kept inside. frozen, like an ancient animal, extinct millions of years ago. mammoth words, with mammoth meaning, but devoid of soul and feeling for too long...