As you wear it each day you can hardly expect its slithering whisper. It can curl like delicate chocolate shavings. The sound of skin is not what it looks like. Somehow skin is always compared to paper when it is entirely unlike paper. Skin is deceptive.
Skin has more to do with flesh and wet things falling from trees.
I can see his fuck-me mouth twisted in a dream sequence of hate that brings love. His eyes are closed. He can't watch. I have to. The blade is dull.