Glistering light shines, framing the face that cries. Lost, alone, unloved. Looking for love in all the wrong places and accepting the worst within himself. Blue eyes of desolate indulgences sweep across the honey glazed moon in search for unspoken answers. A pale palm against the glass leaving heat marks and his breathe hot with anticipation. A lone cigarette slowly burns out in ash tray like a forgotten wand of magic. Dirty blond bleached. Masked, unmasked, masked again.

Don't let the world see your pain, oh no, no way. Keep it to yourself like a guarded secret. Hold onto it tightly. Cocoon it. Maybe by spring it'll evolve into a butterfly of hope. Wipe a tear, breath in deep. Fill that empty heart with pot smoke and hope for the best.

Heavy sigh to keep the ache company. Emotional scars that lie to tell the truth. Whatever doesn't kill you just helps what will. Three AM beer downed by four; there'll be six more done by first light.

Cell phone ringing ignored. Door bolted, just to make sure.

Who needs Kleenex when you got a sleeve?

Sleazy internet porn to compensate for the lack of female blood that night.

Million dollar hobo.

This is a portrait of a Backstreet Boy.