It’s a tee. It’s a dress. It’s the new Graphic T-shirt Dress.

bullshit

Everybody wants
the boxes ticked
lines signed
envelopes licked
and sealed
with all the is dotted,
the ts crossed.

I am sick of parking wardens
I am sick of pigs
I am sick of post office bitches
telling me I can’t stick
my name on this form
without that number,
don’t I have it written down?

A stern frown

“I’m sorry, we can’t make that arrangement without the correct verification of your details”

FUCK!
I twisted her arm til the joints creaked
she begged for mercy,
blamed the system,
nothing could be done.

I am sick of tax forms
I am sick of two current forms of photo ID
bank statements
letterheads
official stamps
proof of address
dental records
bone marrow samples
retina scans

might as well shit in a plastic bag
and fax it
so my case manager can label and date it,
run in through a program
for the government to tax it,
then deduct a percentage
for administration before
feeding it back to you in spoonfuls
on wednesdays.

I stayed on hold, listening to Jewel for twenty minutes as the puddles on the pavement slowly seeped into my socks, winding the silver phone cord around my wrist, waiting, waiting. When the operator answered, she wanted to hear my number before my name.

bullshit

nnimus3

Joined August 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
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