I'm Pulp Again

a poem

repeat
and
repeat
Papa, George,
it’s simple
drinks with Seneca
and
looking for answers
and
watching the sun rise after
a night without sleep
I pick up the shit
and
repeat
tomorrow
and
yester of day
and
one day it changes
and
then I am God
and
God I am dead
organic eggs
and
buttered jam muffins
I wish for not nothing
but every thing
so
I Google a piece
of feeling a love
and
a box filled with air
arrives the same day
and
I look for face
inside of this place
but
the tabs on the tap
so
let’s run it right back
and
repeat
and
repeat
and

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