Connellly

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.