The person who I am is not the one
To live the life required, he is undone.
Me too. There's nothing left to salvage should
I fail this time; the smallest crystals would
Be grinded into dust. The bloodied shards
Beyond recognizance, no further charge,
No third or fourth or fifth chance, atoms smashed
And gone. His final ultimatum lashed
To my ribs and apartment door. No more!
The proclamation, no and never! For
A lie was given for a truth, therefore
That lie needs turn to life, or purified 
From death and fury and if not: demise.
But bloodied still my mind, necessity
Demands that actions reap their recipe
Of lack of self-control; I cleaved unto
My anger, stripped of any power, through
Iniquity and rage I was remade.
I had it, had it tenfold times repaid.
And when I thrashed and writhed within my skull,
I cried out for salvation but I pulled
My only love inside my hatred full
Of impotence, imprisonment. Was I
Denied assistance? No. Ask rather why
I sought omnipotence from human love.
Instead I made myself a vision of
A vicious wretch, inhumed and bound in pall,
And damned myself imbibing alcohol.
False anodyne when first invited in;
My twisted mind more wrung subsided in
Its wet brain for an hour before it drowned
In chaos and reformed the world around;
Just suicide in acts, in words no sound.
A hostile environ by hostile draught
Dissolved one moment, then the next one fraught
With anger in inebriated scope;
The refuge in a momentary cope
Becomes a trigger–newer, shorter fuse.
It morphs my rage, it doesn't disabuse
Me. Hatred of the jail of circumstance
Becomes the need to free with my own hands
This sickest soul from blackest dying through 
My death; but though I've ever held that true,
To kill myself would be to kill them too.
Who suffers when I self-harm, is it me?
A vacuum of self-torture, can it be?
It cannot; when the severed muscle hangs,
The limb is crippled and the phantom fangs
Return at night to gnash the missing piece.
The bleeding someday stops, but where's release?
What day returns a revenant to life?
I tell you, none. Though maybe someday strife
Recedes, a loved one lost is not replaced;
And likewise does it daunt a loved one faced
With fear that my mortality's outpaced
Their every effort. Blinded; lustful death
Antagonizes all us through my breath.
A hellscape is a mindscape with itself
Alone, unreachable upon its shelf;
In monochrome the planet turns and turns,
But nothing grows and nothing's ever earned.
As such my meager coin I spend on booze
When there is nothing else for me to choose.
When I'm alone and all the plants have died,
And when the stagnant winds have not replied,
And only insects come to eat my hide,
Intolerable is the sober world,
Its diffidence with my own insults hurled
Upon my head like stones. Uphold the law!
Pay death to weakness and remove the flaw
I am upon the Earth. It never does.
It minds itself with almost-silent buzz
Until I cannot take it anymore!
It’s the indifference of this hell that scores
Me more than anything else. When I feel
Too much yet haven't strength to turn the wheel,
I turn to metamorphosis to heal.
The world won't change; I try to change my mind,
To change my mental state to somehow find
A corner where these things do not apply.
To warp my inhibitions with the lie
Of drunkenness; to see the world and see
Myself transposed within a fantasy.
I wish to wake in dreams from nightmares real;
In altered states the state of Earth repeal.
Somnambulating in a stupor still,
I smile one second, having had my will
Succeed; it shatters, and I'm left to kill,
To maim, to recompense stupidity
With pain, to turn the judgement onto me;
To find cupidity is always there,
The lens has changed but it is still my stare.
I tie the noose while struggling to get loose;
An explanation, never an excuse.
Within the shadow of deliverance
Addiction creeps and preys upon my sense.
It's come to this: I either learn to quell
The sickness, truly learn the lesson well;
If not, then I shall die alone in hell.