To the Death

I am all there is. And all there is is nothing. My soul is alive with self-pity. Pity me. Oh pity me. But don't you dare fucking pity me.

Gasping for breath. Shaking. Convulsant sobs as the rain pours out of me. As the spark switches off. Oh fucking pity me. Or do something. Fix me. Please oh please fix me.

Can't stop. Couldn't stop and now it hurts. Cut to the quick. Ammonia-stained. Rusted shut. The only thing I'll ever have is this incessant fear. This self-destruct. I'll never have me. Oh can't you just make it stop?

I'm down. I'm out.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPod touch]