bittersweet stagnation

there is a sweet simplicity in inactivity

not progressing or regressing

i hear the thoughts, i allow them to exist

disallowing any further action

no tears, yet a moving mind

soon, it turns bitter

the door must open on one side, on both, maybe?

the uncertainty haunts me

as does the burden

(as it builds silently)

silence, so eerie

can’t i ignore it forever?