Joseph Goosey

because we are sick
we are sick and whiny and this is delicious
the bus will not come
the bus has never come
it is a bus
what fucking business does it have
only i come
half past eleven in the year of my crucifixion
all over the new sheets
folded by tanya

i have no money
what did you expect
a grand reprieve of your sins
plus moreover forever into the epcot center of general discord

i saw a performance once
a man at a piano
he just sat reaming pages into a typewriter

the kind my deadening grandfather keeps in his basement

i called it date night