PUNK POETRY: line 66, col 6 by Muna Akther

I am in the world

like an ant creeps for a crumb, 

swarming overdose vomit for 

choice remnants,

maggot's ain't got to me just yet,

they're planted in the dandruff, 

i'm a rich kid, too chickenshit for 

needles, but i'll still get it tatted

ratty little, safety pin piercings, 

sterilized with a crack lighter,

my stick and pokes are Bic blue,

i can't just stand back and watch it 

all happen. I'm not just taking the 

picture, baby, I'm in it, I am it, I'm 

the camera and the skinny, shaky, 

dry hands holding it. 

You can see the the overgrown nails in the

corner. 

Smash your blocks, rail your lines, feed

me one that says you must destroy to create, 

and create to destroy, 

Create your reason then, I won't be 

fooled by these tricks of light, shadow-play

sleights of beautiful, solid hands,

Ooh, ooh, c'mon, hold it

Hold it for me,

Hum it for me, I'm singing the song

you wrote on the fly, won't you just 

hold it?

--Muna Akther