Stolen.

"There is no inspiration here"
The sign read,
Emblazoned across the filth in your mind.
Locked doors and swallowed keys,
That is all that remains of this wonderous place
And yet here you sit;
Preaching the obvious and
Avoiding the truth.
The music in your eyes twitters a familiar tune.

You scan the room of unfamiliar faces,
Searching for the right;
Being stalked by the immoral.
Your creative spark was stolen from you
Put out by another mans fountain,
A fountain once buried deep in your body.

A kiss is a terrible thing to waste.
Then why waste so many on me dear?
For my lips are chapped and burned,
Scorched by flames spawned at Hells mouth.
Hell and Heaven have a greedy affair,
Struck down by the eyes of God he was fallen,
Dragged into the bowels of the globe,
Never to be seen again.

Don't look at me that way.