Sprial Further Down

I stumble and crawl so far away...    
Away....
To a dark, isolated hole to hide  
Away from everthing...
Its cold.      
Dark.
Empty.
 
My favorite place.
I feel like an insect.  
Living only on instinct.
No friends
No feeling
No purpose
My being is cannibalistic
I live off of self inflected pain...
Hatred
Emptiness
 
I have done this before,
Been my own executioner  
Carving out my heart to see what lies within.
Blood red, still convulsing from my last crucifixion.
It beats, but im not alive.
I have nerves,  but I can't feel.
There's someone inside my head, but it's not me.
I wish I could kill him.
 
  
I just want to be alone