I stood in front of the mirror until four in the morning. I counted the imperfections in my face, multiplied them by ten & called it the imperfections in my head.

I wrote to you until eight in the morning. Counted every "I'm sorry" scratched in red pen on white pages, multiplied them by ten & called it the guilt scratched into the blue of my veins.

*I listened to your album until two in the afternoon. Counted every mention of her eyes, multiplied them by ten & called it suicide.

In the burning right hand of the bald city,
denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings
while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups.

Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers
who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less  pizzazz
and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps
wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan?

As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head,
The dusts off my breath sing homilies
With letters of broken leather whiskey,
For even in the most dishonest jest,
clandestine toothbrushes are overrated
and every first false lie is the only truth.

I looked to the stars to see what I could find,
and I sighed with exasperation at the wonders in sight.
For lo, behold, there were more than millions,
and poor old me, choosing one just wasn’t an option.

If you gaze at them all at once, you notice there is a sky,
but if you pick solely one, you find yourself willing to fly.
One of these twinkling wonders might be you someday,
for the world knows whom it should repay.

Focus on one tree, you lose sight of the forest. 
But look at the forest, you lose sight of your tree.
Find your star, hunt it down, and you just might,
you just might, you just might,
absorb that glittering gold glimmer of light.

Then its all uphill from there,
as you shoot up,
and reach forward
and outward,
and suddenly,
you fall back down.

But this time, you have your star,
so climbing all the way up, it can’t be that far.
After hauling and hiking, you reach the top.
and as you gaze at the bottom, you start to wonder.

Wonder about what? I cannot say.
But you’re at the top, you have to stay.
Since it’s you who made it all the way.
L’appel du vide, you start to sway.

Then it hits you. It hits you hard.
Back you go! as you go down.
Down again, down on your knees!
But as you look in its eyes, your glittery golden glimmer lights it up,
and you can’t help but notice what wasn’t there before.
It cannot be, but surely, it is.
A trace of affection, gone as quickly as it appears.

As you get up, you swear it smiles,
and when it disappears with a gust of wind,
you bet on your life you heard it whisper,
I’ll see you at the top, you’ll get here quicker.

And you scramble up again, surefooted and strong,
as music surrounds you, life’s very own song.
Your ascent slows to a stop, and you look around.
Many are there, whom you never found.

And in the centre, who else could it be?
Your very good friend, whom you mistook for an enemy.
It glides towards you, and you don’t wince,
Because now you know, that which you’ve known long since.
Life pushes you down, not out of hate,
but so you learn, to open up the gate.

Now what did you learn? How can you explain?
What you’ve spent years on, things almost impossible to gain.
But you don’t give away the answer, it’s not yours to impart.
You must help out, pick up all who’ve lost heart.

While having a heart to heart one night,
My friend informs me that as a straight person, I will never understand what it's like to be closeted.

That there is a reason people understand the term "gay suicide" without context,
That love looked like moth wings that would flutter away or wither at touch,
That the secrets and shame are like locks on the door from the outside and you realize that there is no one out there with a key.

That same friend once asked me if I've ever thought about joining a nudist colony.
She said that the comfort I find in my own skin and my ability to separate naked bodies from beds was admirable.
I told her, there was a reason I never read her my poetry.
I told her, I don't wear make up at Wal-Mart.
That I turn off the lights but still let him love me.
I read to estranged ears.
That bareness was something I would never grow into.

"Darling!" I told her, "there are some things you just aren't meant to see."
I have been truth-or-dared to strip naked, and its not as easy as you might believe.
There is a little something that sits at the back of my mind I like to call "modesty."

Modesty can be defined as the quality or state of being unassuming or limited in the estimation of one's abilities.
"Darling," I wanted to tell her, "You have no idea what these hands are capable of."

There was a time I was proud of that.
They were small and feeble, but holding a blade firm they became strong.
They became what I needed.
My skin became less of a barrier and more of a costume. When I slipped it on, I became original.
I became identified, if only to myself.
The scabs were a serial number the First World girl who was a little too white,
a little too straight,
and a little too doubtful could call her own.

But I was a little too weak,
and a little too lonely
and had a little too much time on my hands to wrap around the knife.

They became my drug. I became a liar.

My skin became an apology for everything I thought you should blame me for.

There was a time I would have done anything to show you, but I have always been a performer.
No one ever asked to see the curtains close.  

My friend told me that I would never understand what it's like to be closeted.
That secrets and shame are like locks on the door from the outside and you realize that there is no one out there with a key.
The tally of every moment I'm locked in is a timeline of my mistakes, visible on my own skin.
There are some things you just aren't meant to see.

In all the silence a piano shall be heard from the upstairs room,
A beautiful girl that came out one day of her mums womb,
Growing up was hard,
Being away so long,
No more father no more brother,
Just a mum and a couple dogs,
First she lived out of state,
Never did she hesitate,
Now with the fear of living here,
She made a lot of wrong doings and mistakes,
Learning from the past,
As she sat and watched the hour glass,
Learning everyday how the states can be so bad,
Different people, different places, different ways of doing things,
In every single place was the same familiar face,
T'was a face in the reflections,
Of buildings big and tall,
By the rivers edge, deep or shallow,
Wide or narrow,
This reflection helped her to stand tall,
But the one thing this reflection did was help her to never fall,
Everytime in the reflection,
She saw her mums face,
It told her to be proud, and stand her ground, and to never let things get her down, even if she felt out of place,
Even when the rivers were dry and the buildings collapsed,
She remembers that day from her past,
The one song that she played for her poppet; yes it was her only friend, a doll, back as a child before she grew up tall,
She played her piano so beautifully, Then one day she stopped...
The pain and sorrow from the fear caused her to lose all at all costs,
Friends were there to show they cared, but she grew stubborn and couldn't see,
Past all the hurt and all the pain,
Past all the anguished misery,
Locked in a room behind a door,
Soft tears had wet the bed,
Days went on and weeks went by,
With the same thoughts stuck in her head,
"I have no friends, and nobody cares, why am I living in this stupid place, my mum only nags that I do so wrong, that I need to grow up and get my own place, for what cause i'm losing a race?"
As those tears hit the bed,
With the thoughts stuck in her head,
Her phone was ringing off the hook,
But she never even glanced,
Didn't even give one look,
It was all the people calling her, for all the days in a week,
She kept on sobbing and her heart was throbbing as she was in so much hurt and pain,
But all the friends calling her saying
"Don't give up just yet, for you have so much more to gain, keep your head held high and stand your ground, do not lose this race, show the others that you can win even in this evil place, stay positive and keep your smile, for it will be all you are worth, do everything you can for us to never leave this earth!"
She walked to her piano,
Took a seat and played her mums favorite song,
It brought back all the memories of how she was to grow tall and strong!

He said, "These rooms are rarely vacant but so often they are empty. Darling, you can stay here tonight but don't leave the lamp on for too long. I know you've been up reading through the morning. I can see it in the shadows under your eyes & the red light seeping through them but I can promise you that no amount of literature will bring him back to the foot of your bed. He's nothing but a stale hospital scent after a wasted year in rehab & a crooked smile. It's better to forget what love is like than to crave it from the same **** boy for the rest of your **** life."