Connellly

The sweat fumes from the armpit of my MLB‘s player on a hot Cycle in the Arizona stadium as the muscles swings the bat spraying sweat as the strike sprays. Sweat drips with the heat radiating and dripping in a pool like crazy processes, this host, as I focus for the next pitch and the host’s body flexes and holds and waits at the edge of motion only letting the sweat drip and spread through these cloths as it fumes as the body sweat spreads from the head to the crotch to the feel flooding these cloths and the soul as the ball is pitched.

The stench fumes from the toilet like a fatman’s ass as my head as sweaty as a fatman’s ass drips over the stone as hard as bone and as cold as ice. It’s as quiet as a mind with fingers in both ears. It’s as calm as the waters the next day after a night’s storm that has washed away the chaos like hose over cold ice cement with sweat from a fatman’s ass covering it.

I am walking through the dark alley. As dark as night with no moon and no stars. As dark as the blackest of black. As dark as a blind fold. As dark as space without stars. As dark as sleep. Yes, I am walking through the alley that is as dark as space without stars. The void is all around sucking the action from the calm. It is all around. I can feel it like the void that wasn’t there. Everything is calm and crazy beyond confusion. Confusion like a maelstrom of chaos.

I woke from sleep. I walked. I ate. I sat. I thought. I walked. I ate. I shit. I ate and drank. I drank. I drank. I drank. I peed. I thought. I slept.

I woke from sleep. I peed. I slept.

I woke from sleep

It stinks. The smell of the city hangs dead in the air like that from a fart of a dead human. The final fart as the body deflates and lays still on top of the ground like a piece of shit. It is moist like the mist and juice pushing out with the fart then staining your shorts. I feel stained in this stinky humid air.

The day is like a poop that just won’t flush down the toilet of time. And as it remains each tick of the clock spreads is shitty smell to all around making the timelessness be known by all who stand near.

It’s like they can see the poop in your pants and feel the squishy poop spread and make each step, each minute, pass with hope for a quick end to the day. A quick end to everything hoping a new cycle will clean the poop up and offer more time to find a way to step away from the past stench.

I lay in the gutter feeling like booger just picked and flicked way, left in the road to be stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe or smeared over the sidewalk.

I lay in the gutter. The water rolls over me like snot over a booger. It is like the bar has sneezed me out to the streets and will let me be sticky with my own mucus.