A breath catches and shudders in my throat. My neck cracks in anticipation. A few physical signs of the stress pounding on my brain. Banging their deadly drums until the skin breaks and splits into slivers of useless, filthy remnants.
Your thoughts have become a revolving door; constantly allowing things in and out.
Is it out with the bad, in with the new?
In your case, it's more so out with the good, in with the bad.
Soon, I will jam your door and stop these insisting thoughts. Cease the bad from entering. I only hope your mind isn't already overwhelmingly corrupted.
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