Hatred grows in inches. This rotten body, this rotten world, these putrid soles won't take me. Lay these sh** 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.