All my thoughts have stopped. Erased.
Muted. My skull, flooded with nothing,
Is a blank track playing on end.
Like lava it had flowed once
And overnight, the volcano withered away.
An empty basin, glorified and still,
It produces nothing but echos
Of a once great chorus.
Pause. Delete. It has been cleaned.
In sparkling new clarity
it is pure, without scars.
It is terrifying
to be so