and i'll bite my tongue. gnaw through, until thickness fills my mouth. tastes of iron will be frightening, but satisfyingly so. i'll smile in a bedroom mirror with blood soaked teeth. when the piece of half muscle I tear out is torn and palmed, i'll restitch that tongue of mine. now unusable and I suffer babbling words, that no matter how hard I try to form through frustration, will never be understood again. i'll make sure i'm never understood again. once said twice shy.

and if they plead for my written word, then my hands I will suppress next... and so on and so...