Foray Into the Sleeping Night

I don't know...how or why...just talking to people...it reminds me of how shallow I am...how much I hate this dirt I eat and the lies I vomit.

So very...sick of this...these worlds...these dreams that never end.

Screams unheard.
Violence unbegotten, just till I reach this end.
Nothing but red,
bleeding red
and gluttonous desires of
vast insecurity,
just digging deeper,
scratching wounds
and ripping deeper.
Gnawing.

I can never figure out this quandary:
Numb and dead to the world
or burning and electrical pain
just more intense by the moment.
Every action just rips deeper,
and its not like you didn't know
just that you did
and wouldn't lift a finger
to benefit one beside yourself.

Lackadaisical word play,
playing with you
and your mind
and just here we are
to never hear
but to talk,
speak and vomit every sincerity
just on cue.

Hating you is just hating myself.
I hate you.
If killing you wouldn't end me,
you would have just been another number,
another prime example of wasted human life.
But here we are,
locked into duality for now.
But one day,
you bastard self,
you will pay.
I'll be there to gloat
because I'll suffer for our crimes,
forged together.
Goodbye,
goodnight.