There is a wise saying that goes, “Get your head out of your ass.” It always makes me want to cry -laughing to think that a head could get stuck there, because it can -and it does- and it’s a horrible fate- worse than a stick or a sliver that needs pulling – and in some cases desires shoving- but that’s another topics for discussion- for now, this head we’re talking about- it goes up there- gets stuck in the muck and starts thinking – dreaming it’s perversions and calamities away in a haze of excretion and a whiff of something that needs to go- to say it nicely- this is sad when you’re so full of shit- which is bad enough- but then you get so enamored by the scent and discomfort that you take it a step further and stick your head inside? You want to know how I clean the toilets?
Because that’s like palpable entertainment or a REALLY feel good day at the petting zoo -or puppy ballpark -isn’t it? Don’t you want to be clean? I mean for real this time- I could have helped you pull your head out -but like a tick sucking on my dogs neck- I’m afraid you have nothing else to eat -but your own waste and left overs…a night in hell…empty inside -but filled with wasted causes- sitting on a toilet seat- your head fully emerged- your eyes blinded by the obvious…it doesn’t have to be so lonely.
And we all have dreams about bathroom stalls and x rated movie theaters- it’s natural – and yet we still feel bad because we know that dead grandma’s watching- and we wish they would just stop making those
movies that stir all that poison- that make us hurt people -and start our throbbing head pulsating for more. Bombs are created to explode, and it’s bound to occur -and I hope for your sake nobody gets hurt. The shit is about to hit the fan- and I’m not the one whose it’s target-I learned about shit years ago and how to skillfully maneuver my way through its carnal desires- it’s subterranean wasteland- it’s human feeding ground- it’s funny how the tables turn-First we eat something terribly wrong to make this hardcore shit- and THEN-we can’t get it out- and THEN it morphs into a SUPER SHIT – which THEN becomes this huge DEVOURING CYBORG- who starts eating us from the inside- it’s possessing black magic body is formed of our disowned waste and our inability to push on through to the other side…in the world of the occult it’s called Shit Posession -the wrathful stopped up -pop off-and only an exorcism with extra strength laxative power will do…
It’s raining fire today because of me. I’ve got a plan to destroy The Shit Head for good. Just so you know, you are no match for me. I’m not afraid of touching the inside of the toilet- I’ll clean it with my hands or my sin seeking tongue- oh, “I’m so gross”- whine whine whine -that’s right I am- Grosser than your mind could EVER go. My creativity and lack of inhibition is an endless shit seeking godhead missile-sucking my way through overflowing sewage and septic tanks- stirring in this endless love at the bottom of fermented outhouses- the leaking body bags left in a hot room are like candy to me- I don’t have a problem with you at all- because I made the black and wild hose that sucks you dry -and I invented the sexy movie that suggests you stick your head in deeper and push just a little harder- high and higher up into your little feel good jerking pumping death-it’s so comical, watching from my side of this purgatory- you lost before you thought- that you thought- of this version of me. (as if I have a form at all) I did you already- so many boring and monotonous times- You jumped my train- and I took you for so many rides into what you were asking for- we should try something different -a new position- don’t you think? In a way though, you’re so brave, albeit stupid, to keep that feces face smiling- brown chunks in your teeth and all- and you know the rules of the slave system so perfectly-and you fit the pieces of your meaningless life into such a thoughtful mix of the modern masturbation handbook and the ancient ass fucking closet gay…I want you to know through thick or thin, you’ve always been here living in my mother light heart…you know that don’t you? I’m a saint living in the bleak -yet striving heart -of every shit eating lover boy. Every head too stuck to see that loves goes a long way down the drain…love flushes the love and it always will. Don’t be afraid of your shit- like a frozen shitcicle.
Do you know why?
Because mommy loves you, that’s why.
I think you may suspect something is different now that you’ve arrived at my table. Dinner can be made from as many things as a new street drug can- I’ll feed you whatever I want. You don’t know what you’ve been eating even though your head is stuck and your eyes have nothing to do but examine the dish- you’re too intoxicated by the spell of my ruthless intoxication to even comprehend that I truly am the goddess who created the shit you can’t discard -and the perversions that made you the expert- like the book’s title reads,
“How to successfully get me off before I die”
Like I don’t already know your story. Like you aren’t already dead meat beneath my feet. Hahaha⚡️What a crock of shit. You can’t get off because you’re on -and for now it seems for good…your head is up there TIGHT. What a brown eye socket bookworm. What a bad odor from a hairy graveyard. Even then, I got inside, I made a new mess. Yes, you are my experiment- but without the toilet paper this time -because I’m taking it all away- making things a little more fun, more interesting…I know it’s going to be rough -but I’ve been nice enough- I’ve got smooth moves -it’s true- but I only ever had one thing in mind….
your shit head in the toilet.