mutilation at its finest is self doubt, self loathing and self hatred. what damage I or anyone else could do to my exterior, no matter how deep the wound is cut or how much blood i throw up, will amount to the damage i do daily to my interior shell. my brain and heart are polar opposites, the only thing uniting them is how fucked up they are. opposites attract, and usually create a balance and offset their kin, but when the pounding and drumming and hissy fits get together, they mend into each other and become a fucked up riot of rage and death. slowly. then from what i can imagine, all at once. here's to the future.

7/2