Finish the Second 50, Finish my Rot

There must be something I can't get off my chest
because I can't rest
maybe it's that I know I don't appreciate being blessed
I'd go ahead and guess that to assess me
would be to see there's more mass to my mess,
things held too close to my vest

and wow this sucks
I suck
leave me alone
I’m brain dead
I don't sleep
I don't eat
I am a brain dead idiot

I can feel it
my brain is rotten and yellow
I can really truly feel that
I can feel it

disgusting
I don't eat
I don't sleep

I am falling apart
my heart hurts
I am not cursed

I did this to myself

I am not worth reading
not worth liking
or praying for

I am a rotten zombie
a stain

I am the worst,
awful,
at this point incapable of actually thinking,
of conceptualizing

only rambling and being yucky

I am a wretched creature who's outlived
any chance at contribution
to loved ones and the world

I am a stinking stain

I am gross and smelly and dying
stop reading
leave me alone
comments are open,
I've no back bone

but leave me alone
my yellow brain is soggy
like it's organs below

swooshing, gross
yucky,
leave me alone, I
am
disgusting

and my writing days have left me

like days of leaving the house have left me,
like days of song and showers and sun have left me
I am disgusting

leave me alone

I am wriggling worm
in the belly of life
so joyous before me

I am plague,
nasty
horrible, I am the worst thing
that anyone I've ever met has ever known

leave me alone,
make me do it

cast my stone from winters palm