Sitting here again in the corner of this room. Rotting in my own filth.
****, *****, Feces, Blood.
You get the ******* picture. I hate what i have become.
Sitting here again in the corner of this room, Wallowing in my own sorrow.
Angry, Resentful, Regretful, Depressed.
A pitiful, shell of myself. What the **** have I become?
I only find solace, in this needle, filled with layers of warmth, unrefined compassion, and relentless bliss. A brittle illusion of charity.
Is this what am now?, a careless fool who has been torn from time, locked in a labyrinth of his own insanity. It hurts to fall down, but the climb back up is..... too much, the pain, the anxiety, the horrid feeling, rotting from the inside out.
      Unbearable.
What am I chasing?
Why am I running?
I seek death, for something must be destroyed before it can be rebuilt.
Only in the forge of destruction shall something be made anew.
Only from the ashes may the Phoenix be reborn.
Death.
Rebirth.
Truth.
Freedom.