Punk Is My Home

I shut my bedroom window. 

I am topless to the night, and

Last Caress plays through my speaker.

For the thousandth time in my life,

Punk Rock has been associated with feelings of liberation once again.

I remember only a summer ago,

She couldn’t remember the name of the band

“Apes of The State”.

She bought my ticket to the show anyway.

We moshed to mandolins,

And later,

On my birthday,

We moshed in a basement.

A guy screams 

“DIY or die!”, and

Everyone cheers.

They speak of protests, and 

I remember why we all are here.

Punk demands justice and equity for all,

The freedom to be exactly who you are,

And I am liberated.

I shut my bedroom window,

And I write a poem and 

I thank the gutterpunks who died 

In squat fires and suicides

For ensuring I had a place to call home.