a hot date with working late

How do I love working late, let me count the ways
I love it like a sad-ass loves emo, like an addict loves crack
Like girls love ugly but funny and boys love ugly with a rack
I love the lonely click of my keyboard & the caressing ceiling fan
I love the magic of glimpsing the elusive plant watering man
I love the fatty fatty pizza washed down by fatty fatty soda
I love how i start to write like some retarded hopped up yoda
I love that my desklamp casts romantic light into the hall
I love waiting for hours for some designer in new york to call

but best of all?

I love the fact that i'm neglecting all my other big deadlines
to write wannabe sonnets not headlines.