Empty pages. Empty sets. Empty strings. Losses. When you have emptiness do you have nothing to lose? Yet emptiness can be replaced by things worse than nothing.

A mind at rest yet still produces words. Look past the affectations. Listen for sound. Let your mind vibrate with the thread of text without grasping to interpret.

Inflation. Inflation. Puffing up a narrative with emotional inflammations. Words lance out like giant hornets. Attacking. Regrets follow immediately, but take years to reach their full extensions. Arrange around the roses so as to 'void taking that step again, yet stumble not to a paralysis of anxiety and indecision.

Wake in the morning from peaceful dreams, and spin through the day without lists or hesitations. Walk without thoughts of need for an audience.

An electric buzz zots across the silence, a short wave. All else is quietness.