Hehe.
To me, it pretty much was just a load of pants up until the last line: 'you see, the truth is, I don't have a basement or clay jars or old virigns,
only my tears in a glass cup through which I am able to see reality
grafted into me.'
That made me crack up. So often in your poetry, you mention random stuff like old virgins or keyboards or random people but you're never sarcastic about it...
You can totally nail last lines, but the rest of it is pretty much...blah. So I'd make like an entire poem of last lines, and it would ROCK. 
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I must say, what a brilliant idea for a poem.
I like the way you start off with such a simple sentence and then go on to include alot of detail and description. Also the way you don't state the obvious but skip round it For example: '[i]... and the blood from my wrists contaminating everything ever cried for.[/i]'
(hope this makes sense)
i think i like it but you never know with these things...
i wouldn't want to meet the corporeal form of this poem in a dark alley, that's for sure.
Pale is a pun for pail.
The idea is that I see things that do not exist (the clay jars, the old virgins) because I look through my own experience (my tears).
there is a pale of water in my basement
Do you mean 'pail' or do you really mean 'pale'? Seriously, I can't tell...
This seemed like a personal poem, yet you chocked it up with some weird symbolism that made it stray from what you were trying to say... not that symbolism is bad, but it didn't really fit with what was being said... though I'm lost with what was being said too...
you see, the truth is, I don't have a basement or clay jars or old virigns,
Does that mean there's also no 'pail' or 'pale' or whatever it is?
If I may say my thoughts:
"Reality grafted into me", put together with "blood from my wrists contaminating ", says to me that "reality has grafted reminders into me about all the cutting I have done because of the sadness"
But I dunno... Im no poem guy.