[An Ode to the Chain-Smoking, Caffeine-Addled,
Passive-Aggressive Co-Dependent Freak I Call a]
Muse

She chain-smokes fandoms in my wilted brain:
Just blowing this one, that one towards my face,
And showing nothing but the worst disdain
For those she lately put into my place.
I offer chocolate, caffeine, fevered nights;
She gives me giggling visions, glimpses, goals.
I try to capture all her varied sights;
She laughs another brand into my soul.
But in those sights are lips full pressed to lips,
And fairies wild, and nightlings given wing,
I've placed my feet aboard a living ship,
And Death Himself encaged for me sings.
	And when she leaves at last, I clutch her dress,
	And wait for her return with eagerness.

12/17/01