One foot on the ledge,the other on last night’s lie.Elevator’s out—again.So I climb ten flights of busted prideand bruised memory.No destination. Just momentum. Pause. Mirror’s cracked in the stairwell light.Still...

I was raised on the left coast,Oregon-born, rain-soaked,where punk rock grows like mold in the corners of your basementand everyone’s got a band, a vendetta, or both. Back when rebellion...