Thursday: the knife remix

[squirmelia]

I spent a disaligned jaw. My purchase, a banned voice. It tells me of darkness, of knocking, a scourge of sweat still dripping. It drags me through the depths of staring. Refusing to participate, I find a nice knife. The voice shatters against it, leaving so much noise in my head. A thirst I've not felt before, a shaking.