a god's shoddy workmanship

Once again, I find myself sickened and distraught drowning in oceans of impurity suffocating amidst sheets of self-destruction. A pomegranate blackened and bleeding on a silver platter. I cannot look at myself in the mirror without experiencing the disgust of a child that once was and the weight of a thousand hands that still are at times. I wish I could slice myself open tear myself apart and present those wretched, shredded remains to those who'd lusted after them in the first place. A god's shoddy workmanship. An eye turned blind. How I wish I could leave this rotting shell behind.