My past bleeds emptiness, searing my soul with regret. Every memory of peace or joy is quickly marred and overcome by ubiquitous sorrow. I have no freedom from my past, it binds me to painful memories of self rupture and shattered dreams. I begin to cough shattered shards of broken glass unquenched with the blood of my pain.
It seems my only freedom from the shackles of torturous regret are complete obliteration of my past or forgiveness. I know not how to forgive myself – it seems to require more than a thought or decision. These two options seem to equally lead to my end.
How can hate forgive itself? Once my core of self hatred forgives itself I will end, crumbling away into existence like shifting dunes in the wind.
I have reached to the abysmal depths of my existence to seek and mend my core only to come back with a partial mind and arms shredded to the bone from over-reaching.
I seem only to know pain. All happiness becomes pain in retrospect. My core wants a life of self punishment and a soul dripping with the black tar of self destructive emptiness.
I want to fuck a rock of twisted, jagged pain and contortion.
I want to live by the sea, wallowing in the pity of my inner disgust, drowning in the sand that I hopelessly try to subside on.
I want to have my brain ripped from my throbbing skull, like thunder wrenching the silence from between rain drops.
I want to shit rocks of craggy iron that rip out my insides in bloody masses of putrid suffering.
I want to have my limbs ripped off as my only plea for mercy are the tears that for years would not come, locked up in an unfound dimension of my soul, guarded by my very core of tenderness embedded with thorny barbs of self hatred and destruction.
I want to destroy myself. But I know that it will not free, communicate, or express my inner contortion of dilapidated incoherent thumbling for somethingness, smothered by putrified acidic chunked out vomit from the inner tumbled churning of fractureful bumbling nothinginess.
(signed in shit and spat upon)
