She could see the words behind his eyes and watched them bubble and girgle to the top and prematurely explode with steam as they spewed from his mouth; she did not listen to the words as they came, but followed them as motions and sounds that crawled and flowed over and into her ears and soothed her. They became incessant lullibies.
He tried to stop them, but still they came; a never ending deluge of all his errors exposed. Emotional lacerations in spoken form; cutting him each time anew. He hated the sounds of his voice and it made his own skin stretch, coil, tighten, and reconstrict; each time a little more quickly and strained, attempting with each movement to try and hide again only to realize refuge was always far away and he was alone again. All eyes were on him and they were bored. He didn't know why she stayed with him; if it were the other way around, he would have never showed up to begin with. He repulsed even himself; even his nightmares seemed to let him down. He felt he was swimming and all his words were swirling around him and he kept trying to paddle against them, but they wouldn't let him move at all, but they also wouldn't let him drown. He had long ago quick trying to fight against them, but was increasingly angry at his own apathy, but there was never a solution. All there was were the words and so they came; rushing and spilling all through the rooms and time and he was alone and he each syllable would look at him in his nervous, brown eyes and mock him with mounting repitition.....
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