My veins are unusual.
The way they pulse my blood--
warm, red fluid--
makes my head turn sideways
as I dance around my room

in undergarments for you
all alone.

I've wanted to touch you.
You don't know how badly--
romance, emotional spirits--
have flooded over my thoughts
horses running around my room

while I pretend to kiss you
all alone.

My behavior worries about you.
You are unimportant--
ignoring my view--
hair auburn for you
as I move around this room

smiling and cheeks blushed
all alone.

Neurosis is my diagnoses.
No, someday I'll have you--
spectacular, true--
this is no mental illness
for someday you'll dance around this room, too

holding me as we spin insanely
together.