Atomic state of plasma, I feel so refreshed.
Just out of the shower and still not dressed.
Driven by the urge to kiss your clavicles--
I hope this is going where I fantasize it will,
And, Honey, I did warn you; I'm not nice from the waist down.

I only exist once a year,
To avoid the sun, to avoid the tears.
I'll trade you adulation in exchange for souvenirs--
A few wise words, a few beers.

I'm a slave--
No, I'm a sovereign.
Take me back to when I didn't know pain.
It sounds crazy, but they need you to stay sane.
We'll celebrate this holiday with a spoiled candycane.

There's a hell, darling.
It's in you.
Your perfectly coiffed hair
hides a mind so evil,
the Antichrist should be scared.

There's a hell, darling.
It's in you.
Behind your beautiful blues,
Are intentions so cruel.

There's a hell, darling.
It's in you.
With your sparkling tan, and your Tiffany necklace,
No one would suspect a heart with hate filled to the brim.

I'm the stubborn cigarette
you just can't put out.
You want to walk away,
and you might.
But you will feel guilty
leaving me here to burn.

The sky’s nose is pressed to the window of a loner’s heart
Knowing something dances in the bottom
And it stands in front of him

Nothing in life shows what a loner really feels
More than that fountain of ink
Whispering from her pen

Still the sky wonders if there is anything really there
Or if a loner’s heart is merely full
Of emptiness dancing bare

You can see the sky’s ear pressed ever so closely  
Against the window of a loner’s heart
Listening to the pulsing beat

Knowing something wondrous dances in the bottom
It is timeless yet, still he wonders
If it only dances in the ink

Life is too busy with its own simple demands,
And subtle rejections for dreamers. She's been asleep
For a day and a half, but she hasn't closed her eyes
In over twenty four hours. She watches the
Clock, begging it to move slowly. Just give her
A little longer in her blanket, her bed, her
Fortress, before the day has to begin.

She lays frozen, like a fleshy Popsicle,
Waiting for even hunger to offer a different
Feeling. Life, with its tedious footsteps into the
Office, and its lonesome visits to the shrine of the
Porcelain god, for a moment of silence from
Chatter over coffee, and the tapping of
Keyboards; life is too noisy for dreamers.

Just let her sleep a while longer,
For dreams and darkness offer more
To a mind starved for beauty,
Than sunlit strolls to crowded buildings
Ever did. She drinks her coffee with only
One sugar, five times a day. She fills her
Blood with caffeine and time. She watches the
Clock, daring it to move quickly. She screams
Inside her head until it's time to go home, and
Lay back in bed.

The unliving man
     has lost his heart--
     he gave it away to a
                                        thief.
The unliving man
     has lost his mind--
He walks as if he's searching,
     but he cannot fool himself.
Mere existence isn't life...
Time stands still for this man,
     while everyone else
                         rushes by
Living their lives--
     life he has never had,
          and doubts he ever will have.
Existing eternally,
                                is he not alone?