The Lord Is My Light

Hatred grows in inches. This rotten body, this rotten world, these putrid soles won't take me. Lay these shit bones down to rest. In regret and resplendence. A singularity, a moving point. Humming and quaking. Broken, in stasis. Devoid. Malcontent. Split wrists and pale eyes. A being repellent of life. Hatred grows. I want out of this empty hull. There is no life here for my wretched soul. This rotten body, this rotten world, these putrid soles They won't take me, but I can take myself. I can take myself. I want out.