Growing, Pained

Steep your hatred upon me, for I am wretched.
Urragh. I think that after all these years, I may actually be learning. And it hurts. I feel like my skeleton is extending, growing bony thorns that are starting to sprout through my skin. There are maggots in my head and flies in my lungs.

Self-realizations buffet me against the black cliffs, one after another. Intellect be damned, for comprehension is elusive and I find myself yearning for those twenty special minutes when I can spit acid. And venom. Acidic venom, yeah. Am I so addicted to the extremes that I care not which end I find myself on? Give me your hatred, for your indifference is smothering me. I just wanted to lose myself in you. Is that so much, or is it too little?

The sun rises, and it is mourning. On this bleak beach shall I lay face up and tremble before the stars, or face down and taste the blasted sand? I wish it mattered. Would that I could crawl out the throat of this fleshy beast in which I'm entombed and spread tendrils to the sky, embracing the true world from whence we came.

What am I trying to do to you? - Why did I have to go and do that?