Fitful sleep

so a new day a new story. A frigging apocalyptic account of the destruction in my head. I'm tired and in pain, i feel like my soul i being raped for the core. Maybe this is why i write, to soothe it in some way. Or maybe i do, to feed some form of my own vanity. Who really cares, i just do it because i can.
Nevertheless i'm stuck in an endless void, in rampant decay, ragged, bleeding, and worn out. Fucking medication withdrawal symptoms. Is this what hell truly feels like. The tears feel like lime on raw skin, emotions feel like inhaling salt. I'm so tired i don't know what's left.
Prayer seems to be the only real thing in my life. This earth is so sick infested i vomit at the tought of it. It should end, hurriedly  in one fail swoope humans should hurry up and play their path so my God can come. I'm sick of waiting, sick of this endless lullaby. No matter what words that are spoken they are just endless lies anyways. Except When God speaks it, so cool to my aching woes. Come quickly Lord, before your servant turns to dust in her own worthless skin.