Communication is mostly non-verbal.

This weekend I’ll line my throat with wallpaper. Then you’ll have something pretty to look at when I swallow all of your ridiculous ideas on human perfection and fucking decency. They’ll scrape their way down my gullet, adoring my handiwork before dissolving in the acidic truth of my silence.

My vocal chords might not be vibrating, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have other way of answering you. If you cant interpret the vibrations of my energy, the chemicals soaring between my synapses, the blood oozing in my heart, that’s your problem, not mine… all i can do is send them your way, and hope you wake up in time to catch them.

And, hey, if you sleep for all eternity, that’s OK. Because the trees and the grass and the flowers still hear me. and I don’t even have to interior decorate for them.

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