War of the Blood and Water elementals. [A look into the depths of a lowly man]

I am an avatar of pain, a stranger in my own skin.
So I disrobe.
Behold!
Bear witness to the fact that where most have muscles,
I have only tears and blood.
Blood-tears.
And although I resemble a fearsome beast, an elemental of war and death,
I weep.
And soon the tears dominate the blood
For I know the truth.
I am a bitch and I hate myself for it.
I am as pathetic as a salt covered slug being circled by starved crows stranded in the middle of a vast and desolate waste.
But not even I deserve such a horrible death.
So I fantasize about loosing bowel control while lying in my bed that I hardly leave.
I dream of my shit raining down uncontrollably upon me.
And entering my every orifice and filling me completely.
So much shit that my weak, pathetic lungs have no choice but to succumb,
and that my veins may be graced by such filth, for once filled with something of greater worth than my blood.
And a smile starts to form upon my pale lips as I imagine myself struggling to draw one final breath as I am taken by Death.
But that smile dies upon my lips before it is even born.
For I remember that I don't even deserve a death such as that.
And for that I am sad.