Chapter One: Bozo & Bonzo

The Goatman was a fat guy who lived in the old part of town where everything looked tired. No one around there cared very much about anything.
There were two bums who liked to hang around the train tracks over there. We started calling them Bozo and Bonzo. Bonzo didn't mind because he loved The Who and Bonzo happened to be his favorite drummer. Bozo did mind and would curse and spit at us whenever we'd say the word. He told us to call him by his real name (Charlie) but we liked Bozo a lot more.
Anyway, my friend Lawrence and I would give Bonzo and Bozo a quarter each for a recounting of a recent sighting of the Goatman. One day after school we decided to drop by the tracks to see if they were around. They were, and they were both **** drunk and stunk like wet dogs do after they come inside from the rain. Bonzo asked me if I wanted a swig from his flask and I shook my head no.
"******' *****, I knew you weren't the real deal," Bonzo muttered as he swirled his flask in a circle, as if it were an expensive martini.  
"I don't need your nasty backwash, thanks," I shot back.
"We want more information on the Goatman," Lawrence broke in.
"We have quarters," I added.
Lawrence took the 50 cents from his pocket and extended his arm. Bozo quickly snatched up the coins and laughed.
"You two hot for the Goatman or somethin'?"
"We're not gay for the Goatman," Lawrence says. "But we're definitely gay for finding out who the **** he actually is."
Bozo laughed some more but it came out as a hearty, borderline obese and drunk gargle/scoff.
"We saw him yesterday, believe it or not. I was takin' a **** in a bush across the street from him and he came amblin' out. I was too drunk to care much at the time but lookin' back, I shoulda been more scared," Bozo looked down at the worn boots on his feet and kicked the dirt. "He was carryin' a tiny plastic shoppin' bag, all neatly *******. After he went back inside I crept over and took it and just ******' ran, man," Bozo seemed distressed just verbalizing his encounter.
"So what was inside?" I knew he was getting to it, but I needed to know.
"Just some candy wrapper. Nothin' but candy wrapper. Butterfingers', 3 Musketeers', Pay Days. You name it, he ate it," Bozo completely broke down laughing this time. I'm coming to realize he is the sort of person who thinks he's funnier than anyone else seems to.

Can't keep up
Sleep passes by
Haunted by the forest
Little pieces of sky
Land softly on the stars
Branches caress
Dead fauns
A restless wilderness
The janitor works late
Cleaning up the mess
All thats left
Are flower petals
Forbidden by men
Runing the way
It was meant to be
Seven long days
And nothing has
Been accomplished
Deemed special
Better than the rest
The bears and foxes
The seals and dolphins
Running from saws
Caught in a web of chants
They are brought to
A place
Covered in paste
Its beautiful,
Peaceful and rich
From the clouds
People look on
Rest with the intention
Of never awakening
Forced gods breath
Just in case of fire
We wait for the sun
Under the canopy of
Gas and waste
My own thoughts
No one else would think
They must become nothing
To be worth something
Scared and weak
Everyone is something
Who was born of another
Gospels sing praise of
Thankfulness
Who woulda thunk
We'd be so stupid
Building ground over
Our used consumption
Sometimes i sit
And think
And write
And lose myself
In the reality of everything
But what everyone knows
Is accepted without question.

To you, who has read this, i thank you.
You are very patient.
Lol.