I love nothing.
But I lust for the sensation of death.
I pine for my death.
I have a will to die, a craving to bleed.
A hunger unsatisfied, a yearning to feed.

I long for death, let me die.
Cut me, choke me, let me lie dead.

Cleave me.
A magnificent meeting of flesh and metal.
Delighting in the glorious work of the devil.
I want to die, to crawl out of my skin.
Open me up, pull out what's within.
Cut me again and again and again.
Destroy this body which I have condemned.
Unlock this flesh cage.
Hack me apart, open my tomb.
I long for escape through a door carved in wounds.
Carved in wounds.

Tomb of skin.
This vessel I find myself trapped within.
Suicide, the unforgivable sin.
A means of escape from this mausoleum I am trapped within.
Tomb of skin.

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