Wash[ed] Up

The world of flash and glamour fades room my periphery. Walls of falseness evaporate like phantoms in receding fog, and I'm left with a new found calm. Outside the machine it's all so simple. The wilderness sounds wash through my ears and cleanse mind. It's been so long since I've heard the symphony of silence. Too many years spent lost in the vibrations of artifice, it's as if each doubtful buzz clings to me like caking mud. And though still slothful, the sludge is cracking under the warm sun. Soon it shall crack and fall from me, and as I shed the skin of former self, I will make my way to the water's edge. Without fanfare, the lake of rain shall wash me clean.