Warning, heavy stuff ahead

Saying no to society somehow
has lead me to saying "yes"
In hotel rooms 
To rich white men

feeling bad
feeling bad about the money
my body, the blood on the sheets
their desperate breath as they try to approach
I was writing a poem to salvage a little of myself today
When I missed my next client for 5pm in Chelsea
I lost track of time
Or it lost me
I am lost

(All this desire has been thrown upon me, yet I have none)

I want to throw up
and release this fucked up blockage
See it come out in physical forms
In chunks out of me
I just want the grey out of me

-292 bank account dollars of red numbers
Thousands owed to the state
To friends to hospitals
Everything is red and stuck
But I am blue and trying to move

(For the record, I did not drop out love left me first)

Once again the dead numbers clench
the living red things inside my chest
I worry so the chemicals of worry flow in my blood
My substance is raddled by something vacant
So vacant I can feel it
I turn around
But see nothing

Have not laughed deeply for many many weeks
Ive gone ahead with tradition and blame myself,
assume this unlaughing is my fault
Since the world seems to be laughing
Since the world kind of smiles in a way
Since the world pretends it is getting away with this
It's my fault, plenty of people are transcending this very moment.
These are Decisions I've made, Wounds I earned
I am a child still living under the cocktail table
Looking at adult legs from safety and they drink because
It's our fault we can't convert war into something else

I am trying so hard
But my heart is in a debt of shadows
Obnoxious immaterial dramas
Silly blood silly breath silly ghosts
Sun gnashing at my skin
Eyes drifting into tears
I promise more light to come
Just not today
I know no one likes to see this

No thing
No mouth, eye, dick or bird or breeze
Has said hello to me all day
I go online to download a hello 
from a stranger with a torso and splayed legs 
With tracing paper I outline
this affirmation from the screen
and Now I have something kind of real to show that
I just might have been seen

I go online to say hello to myself
Taking pictures and making silhouettes
Importing other silhouettes to mine
Suggestions of friendship, of beauty
Suggestions of love, of bodies
Of caress and forgetting my name
Suggestions of substance.
The possibility of a new and proper world 
Is more powerful than this actual world.
If the photo suggest I feel good and beautiful
Then maybe will actually feel good and beautiful

In the mirror 
I think about fame and my Art work
If I could polish my desperation 
Into a stand up show
Or a performance of some kind
Of some brutal truth 
Then via fame I am saved
Polish my pain til it turns to mirror
A mirror reflecting something of power
Then I could 
Be the freak on stage
Loved by muggles and men alike.
Then I could be on the cover of Out magazine or
Vogue, say, and have that look
Like I always knew I would be part of the club.
The world will clap and renounce ever rejecting me.
The enemy will be kind of like a friend.