I am still here;
encased in steel,
frozen in flesh;
I am still here.
the I, the me, and the one and only:
Michael, an Angel, this quality,
definitely the most beautiful man
regardless of position and opinion.
building and building my building,
my self: a tower of faith in feelings.
I’ve mortared each brick and laid each beam,
chosen the colors, welded the seams,
sweated past tears, made real my dreams.
I have constructed my cherished monster
and wobble like a weeble but I don’t
I doubt and I die
sometimes I cry
and fade away,
but I’m always stuck with myself
so I’ve chosen to stick it out
until the morning after.
I’ve got to strip and scrub and look in the mirror
I get misunderstood and filthy bad-mouthing myself;
the more I scrub the more I bleed, feeling clearer -
addicting, this hurting and cleaning myself.
in that soulless mirror
is my only true friend
and he’s true as far as you believe him.
weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.
I won’t scream anymore, I won’t make a sound
on finding my construction falling apart
snapping cables in the storms of my heart.
there is nothing that can ever take me away
I’ve done too much damage already.
twenty-one years old, a missile heaven-sent
and where god has thrown me I’ve made my own dent
to sit in and scowl or wave to my stars
as they streak by in the night, fireflies in jars.