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.