Bored of it.
The sound coming from your skull detonates in mine, like an improvised explosive device. Actually that simile isn’t quite right. Your voice isn’t loud. It’s fainter, and it doesn’t inspire terror. The sound coming from your skull reminds me of the feeling of lying in bed and hearing rat scratches in my walls. That sense of quiet half fright. The sound coming from your skull is a whisper-mumbled echo. One that I don’t want to hear anymore.