mindiarrhea

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

fingers

He sits in the library – typing, typing

Thick fat fucking fingers hammer the keys

The sound intrudes on the peacefulness

He mumbles loudly to himself as he hammers

The sound intrudes on the peacefulness

He sucks on a lozenge,smacking

his lips hungrily as he sucks

The sound intrudes on the peacefulness

The peacefulness is everyone’s but

it is mostly mine

I am peaceful no more – I stand,

stride over.  I slam the screeen down

on his thick fat fucking fingers

I pull my knife from my pocket.  My

attack has caught him by surprise his

mouth gapes open in pain and

astonishment – I can see the lozenge

in his disgusting mouth rolling around

unsucked.  I slap him loudly

with one hand the lozenge flies from his

disgusting mouth with the other with the

other I flip open the screen and begin sawing

with the knife and sawing and sawing and

sawing.  The blood spurts the

old man cries out in pain I

have prevailed.

Soon I have reduced his

hands to useless stumps his

thick fat fucking fingers lie

strewn about in tiny pools

of blood, mocking him, telling

him.  He will never type again.

I have my peacefulness back.

Who The Hell Am I?

Mindiarrhea is what it is – the mental imagery that will spew forth from my brain, my mind, like, like… SO MUCH DIARRHEA.  Pretty self-explanatory.  Working on a book and preparing to splatter the bowl of the public domain with it and with others.  Starting with shit I made up (gee, anal fixation much?) and perhaps evolving to non-fiction.