Restless

I am restless, 

The itch of destruction burns beneath my skin, ever present, 

I want to tear, screaming through the atmosphere,

Bullying my way into the presence of stars, 

Smearing galaxies with my agitation, 

Etching irritation into constellations. 

I want to mar the beautiful, 

To twist beauty into something far more dangerous, 

To tread the double-edged sword of vanity, 

I want to create; to destroy.