The fat man inhales and slightly contracts his diaphragm.   Air is welcome and cool on his double chin as he leans back to hack.

He reminds himself to bear down on his anal sphincter as he coughs.   It has been a while since he has noticed his hole dilating involuntarily with the effort of coughing.  Don’t shit yourself.

More often than not these days bloating is  problem.  Turgor pressure makes walking unnatural.

Fearfully, he looks in the mirror.   He wonders if he has a panis.   It is better to leave the question in doubt.  Makes it easy to lie to oneself   His mantits are undeniable.  On a humid day he makes mantitty sweat stains along the sides of his breasts.  This dark realization. Another drink or some stupid fucking thing to click at on the internet.

Drink more to feel numb.

Good idea.  Leave your writing and pour another.  Sip and type and feel it burn you fat fuck.

eat more to not feel empty.

anything to feel

day upon day has led to all these long years

what does the climax of self-loathing look like?

mantitty, mantitty

Why do you feel shitty?

stop maturbating

in all of your pity.

emotional hobo

where goes the boxcar

on this

soul train?

They will not cry

For all of your rage

-threadbare spandex is not a ‘thing’ –

you imagine that your tears will flavour the cucumber kissed water coolers of the spas

but indifference is bland.

 

We are so blessed that we invent crises

So that we may struggle to find some value.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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