Weak thoughts

What are weak thoughts? Why do they plague one's self so much?

Why do they linger, from the moment I wake till I fall asleep once more?

Why do they cling to me like glue, prodding my brain again and again from dusk till dawn?

My thoughts become my beliefs which become my words which become my actions which in turn shall shape my destiny, yet why does this filth refuse to be cleansed?

Why does this rot encroach upon my mind, seeking to break everything I've built, to drag me back into the cesspool of despair and meaningless I've been crawling away from?

Ah, filthy, weak pathetic thoughts of surrender, of leisure, of relaxation.

I vanquish thee, I despise thee, and my mind trembles with rage even as I write these words. 

How dare thee sully my purpose? How dare thee stand in my way? 

You shall be cleansed, erased, forgotten, again and again and again.

Until my last breath is drawn and my my corpse is full of vermin, you shall never, ever win.