Random Thoughts In My Random Head

Addict With A Pen

I can't help it
My hands twitching for the weapon
that I could wield without a hint of guilt
I know that I can try to change the evil I see
but all I pour into words is the evil inside me .

They say what you do , represents you best .
Then what do they say about violence ?
Cause my thoughts are always fighting a war
They never seem to be sorted out .
My mind's a wasteland , toxic .
Don't learn my thoughts ,
it might kill you .
It seems so worthless , there's got to be a solution
which is hanging a noose by my throat .

So maybe it's useless , at what I do
but whatever it is , I didn't get to choose
what I am , there must be purpose .
Behind this all are some forces
that drive all the necessary insanity
to fuel the craving creativity
to incarnate
an addict with a pen .