My name is blasphemy, a curse uttered in your voice. What you don't realise is just how insignificant it is.
Still, to rectify your words, I'll lose mine. I'll be silent, and not the cheery, everyone's-gone-to-the-fair quiet, it'll be the kind of quiet that happens when you wake up in your children's blood, and all of a sudden your house is silent, for ever and for ever.
I'll be silent, and that will fix your mistakes.
I'll hold my breath, without even realising it. The pressure of breathing through this fog will be relieved, momentarily. I'll let go to breathe again, and it comes back.
My head hurts.
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