Punk Rock Medley in Five Parts

I: Falling in reverse down stained glass chasms;
incoherent iconoclasm but
we’re still not helpless.

Damned from the outset
but there’s enough individual output
to offset 
the broken and restless
breathless down in
Texas.

II: Fuck you, and fuck your friends while we’re at it.
Get up and dance like you’re
a goddamn
Joy Division
addict.

Past-life manic episodes
summoning satyrs that speak in tongues.

You fill your mouth with platitudes
and foam at the lips with self-serving
lies; tried and true
bullshit
like the radio pop scene — you
can say what you want, but motherfucker
you’ll never
be
me.

III: It’s such a shame
you had to go and
incite a panic;
disco balls in dilapidated attics, and
there’s enough fallout
to set the Geiger Counter
on fire.

Smoking asbestos
with a drug-store
cigarette lighter, and
we don’t care about the
unintended
consequences.

Look past the mosh-pit bruises and bad habits, and
we’re all just urban kids dreaming 
of
picket fences
and
authenticity.

Pierced the veil of
your prickly toxicity, and all we’ve got left to sleep with
are sirens from classical antiquity.

IV: Ya, I don’t care if you’re a
bitch, I don’t care if you’re the poison ivy
itch
between my fingers; I’d linger here
forever
for one more taste of your
poison.

Employment of all my coping mechanisms, but
the deterministic decision
to get fucked-up
night after night
hasn’t made anything alright; absences
correlated to a lack of abstinence, and 
I still see you in every
orgasm and drag
of absinthe. 

V: I think it’d be a little easier
if you’d just come out already 
and hate me; but lately
baby
I’ve been praying for the bitterness
to
save me.

Encage me in amber, and
stab me with your infected blades.
I hate the way you were always speaking
languages
I can’t read; you just
bury the turnstile
and hope 
no one
notices the
fucking
subterranean rumbles.

I’ve humbled myself 
a hundred times
for one
last shot
at dying in your apocalyptic earthquake.

Worst-case scenario
we’re just 
another
shitty 
punk rock anthem
without a
mantra
to ink
on bloodstained
forearms.

Willie Watt
04.27.17

 

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