It is past midnight.
A light glows outside my window
Like warm *****.
Welcome to New York City.
The self-loathing,
Self-loving city.
I am a proud citizen of this
American Isle,
In the most un-American style.
No white picket fence
Can be seen for miles
(Unless you count barricades
of graying snow that leaves
blizzard scars on my boots)
But those scars are worth it.

The clang of metal wheel
Against metal track
In the literal underside
When high life meets
Low life
And the hair cells in my ears
Shiver
From each rhythmic heart beat:
Is worth it.

But when I feel the need
To write of ***** and light
In the same sentence
In order to preserve my thoughts
From being trapped
Permanently inside my head
Inside these white walls,
Which I have decorated with
Rainbow colors
In order to prevent the room
From looking like a mental institution,
It doesn't seem worth it anymore.

My life belongs to a city of commitments.
One where love has graced me
With its presence
And where I can hide
In dead ends and public alleys
Without fear of being caught
For being who I am
By the people who are supposed to
Know me best.