Delicate

We might kiss when we are alone
When nobody's watching
We might take it home
We might make out when nobody's there
It's not that we're scared
It's just that it's delicate

So why do you fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you
Why do you sing with me at all?

We might live like never before
When there's nothing to give
Well how can we ask for more
We might make love in some sacred place
The look on your face is delicate

So why do you fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you
Why do you sing with me at all?

Classic Mild..

Breathe In..
Let the smoke fill you up
Feel the sweet rush of nicotine
soothe your frayed nerves
and pungent tar scrape your throat raw
like the bile you've come to know so well.

Breathe Out..
Watch the soft white vapour trace your breath
and pretend that you are special,
the last of the dragons,
with dragonfire to burn away
the impregnable fortresses of memory.

Breathe In..
Waiting as the soft orange glow
consumes another eighth of an inch
of snowy white paper
and bits of leaf, golden brown
like her hair, when it blocked out the sun.

Breathe Out..
And sigh it all away.
Yourself, the past, half remembered dreams, everything.
Till all that's left
is the next flick of the thumb
that shakes off the smothering ash.

Breathe in.

Vanity Card

He appeared normal. He spoke and behaved just like anyone else. The fact that he had no heart was very well concealed. Well, that's not entirely true. He did have one. It was just not in his possession at the moment. And this is where the story gets complicated. The woman who had the darn thing was blithely unaware of the fact. Well, that's not entirely true either. She knew that she'd left the relationship with more stuff than when she entered it, she just hadn't bothered to do a proper inventory. (Had she done so, she would have found the heart, as well as a set of balls.) Regardless, his dilemma remained the same. A woman had absconded with a vital organ and the gnawing emptiness he felt was a direct reflection of that vacancy. Well, that's not entirely true either. The gnawing thing had actually been with him since he was a child. He just liked to assign blame for the condition.