Alice Paige
It’s Better to Burn Out Than Fade Away
gets its sticky, tar hands in all the suicide notes
like shotgunning sad punk songs in the middle
of the night – track after track straight into back
of mouth is unhealthy but we don’t want to say
because therapy ain’t punk. punk is filling yourself
against a graffiti’d bathroom stall. punk is the
sound train tracks make when no one is around
to hear cold air on steel rail & rain & empty.
punk’s a legacy of dead friends & dead friends,
like what is there to sing about if not the loss?
until we become the loss in a moment of blaring
sadness running itself through church speakers
& by church I mean my ribcage
& by church I mean my skull
gets its sticky, tar hands in all the suicide notes
like shotgunning sad punk songs in the middle
of the night – track after track straight into back
of mouth is unhealthy but we don’t want to say
because therapy ain’t punk. punk is filling yourself
against a graffiti’d bathroom stall. punk is the
sound train tracks make when no one is around
to hear cold air on steel rail & rain & empty.
punk’s a legacy of dead friends & dead friends,
like what is there to sing about if not the loss?
until we become the loss in a moment of blaring
sadness running itself through church speakers
& by church I mean my ribcage
& by church I mean my skull
Pints of Guinness Make You Strong & Other Lies
we drive down an empty street on the way home from the bars / took two shots for the road /
one to take the edge off / one to ensure we would blow over .08 if we get pulled over / “we”
being the driver / but pretend the risk is the same/ it’s a lie that gets us home some nights / the
CD is loud & skips every time we hit a bump / the front bumper rattles & rocks in its duct tape
frame / queer bar rats flinch as cop car passes/ laughing & shit faced / Zeek & Jesse crack jokes
about some guy who fell into some chairs / the steering wheel feels smooth & cool & spring air
blows up from a hole in the door / the back wheels whine as we pass over the tracks Charlie
killed himself on / the others in the car pretend not to notice / everyone notices / small town
Iowa makes a disappearance loud / the alcohol & the drugs struggle to reach that volume /
Jesse laughs & we high five over something / I don’t remember what / I wish I could remember
what / I was doing when we all fell apart / spread out across U.S. highways / like deer blood
streaking its way through the night / dead dear on a busy highway always feel like a sign / this is
where we all end up / when enough headlights & fear get mixed together in the dark / the high
five splatters its way back across the median / & one of them blows over a .08 one night /
disappears for a few months / stops responding to texts / & we do another shot for the road /
to keep the edge off / to lie that it keeps the edge off / the edge meets a deer’s legs / & we
crumple / pints of Guinness churn in a hundred stomachs as the bar lights go out / & so do we /
& Jesse high fives me & I don’t remember why / but it was funny / & we got home that night /
all hug each other / all smile & sweat whiskey
we drive down an empty street on the way home from the bars / took two shots for the road /
one to take the edge off / one to ensure we would blow over .08 if we get pulled over / “we”
being the driver / but pretend the risk is the same/ it’s a lie that gets us home some nights / the
CD is loud & skips every time we hit a bump / the front bumper rattles & rocks in its duct tape
frame / queer bar rats flinch as cop car passes/ laughing & shit faced / Zeek & Jesse crack jokes
about some guy who fell into some chairs / the steering wheel feels smooth & cool & spring air
blows up from a hole in the door / the back wheels whine as we pass over the tracks Charlie
killed himself on / the others in the car pretend not to notice / everyone notices / small town
Iowa makes a disappearance loud / the alcohol & the drugs struggle to reach that volume /
Jesse laughs & we high five over something / I don’t remember what / I wish I could remember
what / I was doing when we all fell apart / spread out across U.S. highways / like deer blood
streaking its way through the night / dead dear on a busy highway always feel like a sign / this is
where we all end up / when enough headlights & fear get mixed together in the dark / the high
five splatters its way back across the median / & one of them blows over a .08 one night /
disappears for a few months / stops responding to texts / & we do another shot for the road /
to keep the edge off / to lie that it keeps the edge off / the edge meets a deer’s legs / & we
crumple / pints of Guinness churn in a hundred stomachs as the bar lights go out / & so do we /
& Jesse high fives me & I don’t remember why / but it was funny / & we got home that night /
all hug each other / all smile & sweat whiskey
Alice Paige is a transgender woman and poet living in St. Paul, MN. She has a spoken word album titled Bleed Through and is published on Button Poetry and Coffin Bell. She is currently an MFA student at Hamline University.