I determined an adult male was lying on the floor. His feet faced the toilet as he laid on his side. The perpetrator, violently and wholeheartedly made a sudden effort to empty his bowels whilst an accomplice jumped on him from an undetermined height. The perpetrator seems to have opened his legs wide, creating a ‘V’ shape. This has been determined due to the shape of the “spray”. It resembled a silhouette of one half a pyramid. It wasn’t completed due to the window and opposing wall.
The smell of human shit sprayed on a hot space heater and the news that Lou Reed died are signs it is time to move on. I have an old army duffel bag that I’ve filled with all my possessions. As it lay flaccid like so many things in my life (namely my cock), I realize how little I own. If one were to guess what was in the bag by the bulkiness, they would be a keen observer to say that, “It’s a half a shoe.” Being objective during these times is both poisonous and necessary. I’ve been living in my own “Neverland”. And I am not Peter Pan the egomaniac. I’m that fairy with the great ass. I know this is a innate quality of being a human. Dostoyevsky said something about man being able to adapt to anything. He also said something about talentless assholes who quote vastly accomplished people to momentarily raise them out of nothingness. Imagination and hope allows the mind to bend. I’ve adapted too much. And what was once pliable is beginning to become rigid with rot and venom. I have been here before. As with grief, isolation and loneliness has it’s phases too. Many of the “phases” are obstinately tethered to madness. And alas, it is time for the cycle to begin again. I will be moving on. If this step isn’t realized, then I will write an amusing drunk-driven story about a deviant, sad asshole who just wanted to be happy.