Sprache
Desperated poop My stomach turns like a broken dishwasher. I crooch in front of the toilet and turn the key: nothing. The water went out a while ago and the cistern is empty. The twist sticks a knfe in my guts; there is no more time to look for another door. I take a deep breath, pull down my pants and get on all fours on the cold floor. The first push comes out alone, a thick and hot jet that hits the tiles with a wet splash. It\'s not a flow, it\'s an avalanche: bubbles that don\'t stop, that slip, that splash my knees and spread out in a dark puddle. I moan through my teeth, feeling how the body empties mercilessly. The smell rises densely and the noise is obscene, as if the floor itself complained. Every contraction shakes me; every bubbling is a bitter relief and a liquid humiliation. When he finally calms down, I stay there, trembling, with my hands and knees in the mess. The bathroom is still dead, but now the floor has my name written on clay. - SCATBOOK.COM/ARISDARK
Wird geladen, bitte warten...
