Life bleeds

Cruel life,
You give me opportunities vast and countless,
Yet not the moral means by which to take them.
Guilt. Self loathing.
I am smothered. I am tethered.
Exhausted.
I should have let it die.
Now it limps, dragging itself by old haunts, old ways, so new they were one time, but they are stagnant now; they reek of death and decay and they are foul.