Quiet, except the sound of my own breathing that I would never hear otherwise.
There is so much I need.
And so much I don't.
There are layers of distraction, unhealthy, and still.
I'm going to burn it off. All of it.
I will feel the pain. Everywhere.
It won't mean something.
It won't have a thousand words attached to it in poetic disaster.
It will be still, and silent.
...I will be measured by this.