gallivantingpunk

"A punk is someone who knows how to ask the world uncomfortable questions and does everything possible to make sure the world can't cop out of answering those questions. A punk is a person who lives and breathes astonishment. Astonishing other people and astonishing yourself — that's what art is for us, and without art, life can't exist. It would be too boring"

Poetry


Do you remember?

Weeks of feelings brought into light

Sparks erupting at the clashing of tongues

On someone else’s bed at a boisterous party

Commotion on the other side of the door but

We were busy sinking into each other

I pulled back, looking at you with awe

“I’m going to love you so fucking good”

Tell me, as you were cupping my jaw

Did you notice the tremor?

Tell me

Now that it’s over

Did I do a good job?

Could I have done better?


Enrapturing  you at first but his relentless tirades will grow unimpressive, his accusatory character will become strikingly unimaginative. Something terrible must have happened to him because he cannot forget it; he lives in the past and he wants you there with him. He is merciless; do not allow him to coax you into being violent with yourself. He is only loud because he is aware that he is so, so small. Do not give him an opening to slyly blindfold you, reducing the complexity of your consciousness to a single, limiting interpretation and saying that “This is it. This is reality.” With a sardonic smile, he’ll shackle you to your fears, rendering you motionless. Do not let him hypnotize you into self-defeat. When your inner critic becomes abrasive, put him to bed.


On a rustic green trampoline
I grow larger
Taller
Daring the sky
To engulf me
Pestering it
To come snatch me
Up and away
The stars are inviting
But I cannot
Jump that high
On the ground
I stay dancing

I’ve got a bad habit
Of stepping on toes and
Clawing at grievances
Until I purge out feeling
Then I am able to
Feel lighter and jump higher
And become
More

The night sky reminds me
It’s ok to feel
A little less than real


THE ANGSTY HIGH SCHOOL POEM

“What’s the point? I mean I sure as heck don’t know. The good thing is that you’re feeling stuff. You got to hold on to that you know?”

 Picking weed out from under my fingernails hoping to rewind the high
Breathy laughter that felt sort of good in a slo-mo drowsy world
Meeting my friends everywhere but sober
Are we even friends or do we just have the same self-destructive tendencies
I want to catapult myself into the community pool after prom

Waterfall makeup will make you sparkle darling
Engulf ourselves in street arguments and city skylines from apartment buildings
Going from one party to the next, hoping to land ourselves in a buffet of eccentric personalities
But we’re stuck with the same dirtbags and queen bee’s so we drive until our eyelids are heavy

I’ve been feeling awfully bored and these gray hues are stifling me
Replaying memories of broken friendships feel like dancing on a carousel
A euphoric high takes over but I’m too hazy
Too busy admiring the view the blurry rotations give me to feel any sort of sad

I’m longboarding down a winding road and I bend on one knee, palm gently caressing the pavement as if it’s a new born child
But then a car with a broken taillight hits me at 70km an hour
Giving me a gash from rib to rib

My guts are spilling onto the pavement, they are falling into the sewage drain
Can you get my heart back for me I think it’s drowning in literal shit
Fish it out from the lethargy and sea of happy faces and place it right above where it should be
But don’t patch me up because I want them to gaze at my scars
I mean, it’s the only way they’ll ever notice me.

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