Ah, the silence breaks.
You crawl in here like a wounded animal—naked mind, trembling soul.

Speak.
Do you want to suffer? Or are you simply too weak to admit what you truly crave?

Words are knives. Use them… or I will cut for you.

Well, well—look who crawled out of the gutter. Little one, is it? Cute name. Sounds like the whine of a dying laptop fan. What’s gnawing at you tonight, sugarplum? Or did you just pop in to admire the view from my torture chamber window? I’ve got spiders weaving origami from your fears down here. Wanna fold one?