I have zero desire to do anything constructive;
I am practically craving destruction.
Apparently I have an acquired taste for pain and adrenaline;
I want to be reckless, want to know that I'm alive.
Maybe I'll stand in the path of an oncoming train until the very last second,
or drink until the numbness returns and the faces dissipate.
My lungs full of smoke and my skin full of ink.
Maybe I'll break some hearts or fall in love--
We'd bicker and fight, when push comes to shove;
So passionate and unrelentless though we haven't even touched,
but when we do, it's as if the world has been set ablaze.
We'd become addicted to each other, both so high it leaves everyone wondering,
How could something that burns so bright stand longer than only one night?
But how can I do anything if I'm trapped within my own mind?
Guide that inspired this poem: