Pompeii As A Metaphor

i drink from your cup to feel i'm alive. 
i swallow this whole to define myself. 
i wait this out though time kills all things... 
but touch is a luxury ill-afforded, and its underneath my skin... 
and this is all just an accident waiting to happen. 
a trap waiting to be sprung. 
(i'm not entirely convinced that you're not the worst idea i've ever had)... 
and in the end i don't know up from down. 
in the end i don't know who's the victim.