Crappers

This morning I sat on the crapper and took a wide and massive shit. It hurt and it tore at my hemorrhoids and caused them to bleed. This all happened while I read an old paperback that had warped from the steam of many showers. My cat jumped onto the sink and licked at the trickle of water dripping from the head. I looked at the blood and the turd in the toilet bowl from between my legs. I craned my neck a few inches beyond my cock and widened my legs a bit and I could see the mess. I felt like throwing up. Not because my own bloody feces makes me sick, but waking up makes me sick. The shit, itself, felt great and it felt like a true accomplishment. I haven't felt that way in awhile. I put the paperback down and stood up. While the cat licked at the dripping faucet, I coughed and then vomited a bit of bile. It sat a tiny bubbly scab on top of the thick streams of blood that hovered around the massive turd. Those thick streams of blood were falling slowly and gracefully down into the bottom of the porcelain. I belched twice and threw up a bit more bile. Tears welled up in my eyes and I felt like a new man. I felt refreshed. More refreshed than after taking a hundred showers after a dirty lay.
I sat back down and picked up the paperback. I read two pages and then called it quits. I tore at some tissue and while feeling the pain in my sprained ass-wiping wrist, I cleaned up.
The night before I met a lot of people and read a lot of news articles. I had some conversations that I mostly forgot.
I flushed the toilet. The cat followed me out of the bathroom. While I poured a drink I watched the cat climb into his litter box and shit.
"This is all we got, cat," I raised my glass, "that reminds us that we're alive."

Fucking Sleep

I could easily go to sleep. I'm fucking tired, beat to shit. I barely slept last night. Had coffee with cheap Bailey's knock off before getting to work at 11:00. Ate some fried chicken. Drank four pints of Guinness and now putting down some vodka. I can't read, I can't write. I can't do shit but I don't want to go to bed. Too cold to walk around. I'm yawning so hard that when I shut my mouth I think I'm seeing something. Some apiration, who knows what the fuck. I should sleep. I need to do things tomorrow. You know, THINGS. Fuck. Life is made up of so many pointless THINGS. Sleeping and eating both seem like useless wastes of time. Yet drinking does not. Fuck it. It's gonna be another pass out night, no matter what I want.