dentists envy me;
they'll never have an anesthetic
so aesthetically pleasing.
it feels so good not to feel.

i know all
the numbing products they use.
what did you expect from
someone so insensible?
i know no senses other than
taste, because girls
like me have sharp tongues
and hungry eyes that will
never get enough of anything.

As I watch you strum
away at your guitar,
I hope the only thing
you're playing is music.

i've been looking for
a thrill lately.
not the roller coaster riding, sneaking out
at two in the morning type of thrill, but
the type of thrill that evokes enough
curiosity to make rebellion
look like nothing.  
i'm talking about
the thrill that makes you want
so much more than what you are given,
so you avidly seek out
the unknown in hopes of
having the taste of adrenaline on your lips.

you are a thief, out to take anything
that will give you temporary happiness.
one day you showed me how to pick
laundry machine locks, then you showed me
how to fall apart.
you are a thief.
a thief of my emotions.
you've robbed me of my love until
you were bored with it,
and now i don't even have enough for myself.
my purity, my time-
you left me with nothing,
not even my innocence.
you take things you know will never
have sentimental value to you, which explains
why you took my heart.

times square envies a girl like you.
i mean, who wouldn't?
you've got it all.
a voice that the wealthy would do
anything to hear echo in theaters
and skin like expensive
museum paintings.

let's run into traffic together so
we can see who makes it out alive.
i want you to show my hands
the speed bumps on your hips
and tangled skyscrapers in your hair.
you know me, i've always been
this reckless, if not more.

we'll chain-smoke all our dreams
into reality, and all our fears
into each other. the city belongs
to people like us.