**I am bleeding mad. And I can use the writing practice.
I am seething livid in my own hatred. My chest feels so severe, heavy and heated; there's a criminal piece of brimstone that's pumping my blood. And it's circulating that scalding anger all over, and I can feel it's white hot intensity burning, escalating as it reaches my extremities. This is not spontaneous combustion. I am willfully precipitating my own implosion. Die faggot. There is nothing spontaneous with being a volunteer.
I hate you so much. I hate you with the kind of loathing that is especially reserved for repeat offenders of scandalous felonies. I hate you and the words you use. I hate your excuses. You don't know what you are saying. I hate you so much. Again, I hate you.
I can't feel my toes. What the hell is happening to me?
Ah, my feet are beginning to melt. Fuck it. And fuck you too, most especially you because you think this is corny. I am standing on my knees now, my legs are a stinking puddle, and I'm writing this with one hand because I need to keep ... oww fuckk.
I feel... bitter now... Even more so because I... I... God damn it I... I choked this piece with adjectivesssshhhhittt...