How should I kill myself?

My life is empty. It needs to end now. Even normal days feel like despair. I'm gonna end it. Tonight...

Please answer the poll or reply below with the method in which I should kill myself. Even if it's gory or momentarily painful, I may be up to it. I hate this world so much that I want it to be traumatized when it sees my rotten, putrified corpse. I want pictures of my dead body posted on the internet for people to gawk at. I want my death to be art.

And now, I should tell you about the dream I had last night.

I was a young boy, maybe 11, and living at home with my mother. She was drunk again, chain smoking menthol cigarettes. She's forcing me to wear her panties (soiled ones from when she pissed herself drunk the night before) under my Osh Kosh jeans and I'm scrubbing the kitchen floor while she chugs vodka and reads Soap Opera Digest.

She slips on an area of linoleum I've just cleaned, and her three hundred pound body lands with her head audibly dinging the side of the stove. She falls to the ground, twitching, a jet of blood squirting out of her temple in time with her heartbeat.

I don't know why I didn't call 911. I don't know why I raped her dying body. I wanted her to feel as low and humiliated as I had growing up. My angry cock shoots come out of her mouth, making a big white and red puddle on the floor I'm cleaning.

But that still isn't enough. I get a can of lard from the fridge and grease my right arm up to the elbow. I ram my whole arm up her ass, a festering, shit smelling hole. I thought she was dead at that point, but she starts making a mewing noise from the pain. I keep shoving my arm up farther and farther, as far as it will go, until the noises stop and I'm pretty sure she's dead.

Getting my arm out is a problem though. I notice hard little white things around her anus that look like teeth. Her ass is eating my arm. I try to withdraw, but it's much harder than it was going in. I finally get to the point where only half my forearm is left inside, the rest of arm sleeved in blood and shit. My hand is caught on a ridge of her pelvic bone. I think I may be trapped and make one last attempt to shove backwards with all my might.

After great effort, my hand comes free, and with it comes about a half yard of her intesinal tract, laying out on the linoleum like a bloody tail. Three of my fingers have been gnawed off by something feral inside her and as I stare at the squirting stumps I scream myself awake and in a cold sweat.