Mar 2014
3 walls and a door enclosed me inside.
Not very private place, but at least I can hide my face.
The only thing I can hide.
Admittedly my stench drenches the public restroom.
It’s funny…there are two men in here
HAH they’re doomed!
To smell my might they will!
To waft my potential they will!
I overheard one of them squeal, “This guy must be radioactive!”
That’s a compliment larger than a continent coming from a complete stranger! And it makes me feel a bit more complete knowing that in this particular genre of masculinity, no one can compete.
______________________
The doors of the public restroom opened and closed twice.
Hah I cleared the room.
Literally!
I sit quietly in my 3 wall one door stall taking the dump of the century.
I don’t know it keeps flowing continuously.
Probably from that fiesta-tequila-taco party
And the stench of the plague surrounding me.
But I’m just there sitting contently
I’m invisible.
The door slams suddenly and the sound of the metallic door startled me.
Goosebumps snaked through my arms.
“What if these men wish to do me harm” I thought as I crossed my arms to grab each bicep.
I hear a lot of rustle and tussle and laughing and ruthless giggling, name calling, mocking
Finally a beating.
I wondered what could’ve been happening.
I couldn’t do a thing due to my limited state.
(That’s a lie, I was ******* bricks)
The sounds those ruthless thugs made with their fists as they connected with the boys ribs, chest, face, jaw.
All of this I saw behind my 3 wall one door stall.
Finally with the final flash of fist
The boy was kissed by it, broken by it, and hit the floor because of it.
I can’t believe that these boys were ruthlessly attacking a young boy…
In the bathroom…
Today…
The 3 boys brooded over the motionless battered boy
I kept seeing their limbs connecting with the boy’s body.
Chest
Face
Ribs; a ruthless beating was something I was watching through a crack in my 3 wall 1 door stall TV.
I saw all quietly, breathing calmly.
Also trying immensely not to ****!
For some reason the 3 lost boys seemed comfortably contented with the battery they’ve committed.
One boy stood out and put his right foot out.
A vicious hokey pokey
The moment the lost boys foot was about to connect,
The boy on the floor acted as if he was upon war.
Grabbed the boys foot and flipped him gracefully with such grace and “amour”
In the broken boys hand was a piece of glass.
With a motion so quick and jab of his fist with a downward ****** the glass peaked in the lost boy’s chest so passionately as if it was done with lust.
The gasping and moaning and sobbing tears
Clenched teeth, glass beneath his chest braking and tearing, were signaling pain.
The groaning lost boy won’t ever see the sun again.
He repeatedly pulled and pushed the glass shiv.
Peeking through his ribs,
Poking through his stomach,
Failing his liver and collapsing his kidney.
In and out he kept repeating.
I kept hearing him say, “I’M REALLY WORTH BEATING?!”
The two boys frozen have chosen to stay back as the battered boy continued his attack.
Stabbing and stabbing
Warm blood splashing his face.
“**** THIS!” THE LOST BOY SCREAMED!
So out of the bathroom he attempts to run out of.
My automatic toilet flushed……!
My heart and soul nearly extinguished.
The rushing boy turned his head for a millisecond to the sound of my stall, only to return to the ****** face of the one who was destroyed in the first place.
A motionless moment of silence and eyes opened wide
In them, hysteria and animosity combating gracefully.
The battered boy’s wrist was twisting.
The lost boy’s body was twitching.
To the floor he slumped with a thump and the glass shard stuck in his chest.
The last lost boy destroyed mentally and practically ******* his pants
(As was I!)
Lay in disbelief paranoia and completely paralyzed.
That was the first time the last lost boy contemplated immediate suicide but couldn’t find anything to end his life
“NO GOD PLEASE NO, NOO NOOOOOO”
To the corner of the restroom he crawled right at the place where my stall lay.
Echoing footsteps and whimpering suspect only for that subject to a loud
Slamming on the door as the battered boy’s foot kept connecting the boys head and the floor with more impact
More force more anger
Pain
Rage
Revenge
It extends
To abuse
He refused to be the son of a recluse and he was a victim of…….
Three motionless bodies.
Chills raced through my body in my quiet restroom and my 3 wall one door stall.
“You can come out now” the battered boy said to me…….
Not very private place, but at least I can hide my face.
The only thing I can hide.
Admittedly my stench drenches the public restroom.
It’s funny…there are two men in here
HAH they’re doomed!
To smell my might they will!
To waft my potential they will!
I overheard one of them squeal, “This guy must be radioactive!”
That’s a compliment larger than a continent coming from a complete stranger! And it makes me feel a bit more complete knowing that in this particular genre of masculinity, no one can compete.
______________________
The doors of the public restroom opened and closed twice.
Hah I cleared the room.
Literally!
I sit quietly in my 3 wall one door stall taking the dump of the century.
I don’t know it keeps flowing continuously.
Probably from that fiesta-tequila-taco party
And the stench of the plague surrounding me.
But I’m just there sitting contently
I’m invisible.
The door slams suddenly and the sound of the metallic door startled me.
Goosebumps snaked through my arms.
“What if these men wish to do me harm” I thought as I crossed my arms to grab each bicep.
I hear a lot of rustle and tussle and laughing and ruthless giggling, name calling, mocking
Finally a beating.
I wondered what could’ve been happening.
I couldn’t do a thing due to my limited state.
(That’s a lie, I was ******* bricks)
The sounds those ruthless thugs made with their fists as they connected with the boys ribs, chest, face, jaw.
All of this I saw behind my 3 wall one door stall.
Finally with the final flash of fist
The boy was kissed by it, broken by it, and hit the floor because of it.
I can’t believe that these boys were ruthlessly attacking a young boy…
In the bathroom…
Today…
The 3 boys brooded over the motionless battered boy
I kept seeing their limbs connecting with the boy’s body.
Chest
Face
Ribs; a ruthless beating was something I was watching through a crack in my 3 wall 1 door stall TV.
I saw all quietly, breathing calmly.
Also trying immensely not to ****!
For some reason the 3 lost boys seemed comfortably contented with the battery they’ve committed.
One boy stood out and put his right foot out.
A vicious hokey pokey
The moment the lost boys foot was about to connect,
The boy on the floor acted as if he was upon war.
Grabbed the boys foot and flipped him gracefully with such grace and “amour”
In the broken boys hand was a piece of glass.
With a motion so quick and jab of his fist with a downward ****** the glass peaked in the lost boy’s chest so passionately as if it was done with lust.
The gasping and moaning and sobbing tears
Clenched teeth, glass beneath his chest braking and tearing, were signaling pain.
The groaning lost boy won’t ever see the sun again.
He repeatedly pulled and pushed the glass shiv.
Peeking through his ribs,
Poking through his stomach,
Failing his liver and collapsing his kidney.
In and out he kept repeating.
I kept hearing him say, “I’M REALLY WORTH BEATING?!”
The two boys frozen have chosen to stay back as the battered boy continued his attack.
Stabbing and stabbing
Warm blood splashing his face.
“**** THIS!” THE LOST BOY SCREAMED!
So out of the bathroom he attempts to run out of.
My automatic toilet flushed……!
My heart and soul nearly extinguished.
The rushing boy turned his head for a millisecond to the sound of my stall, only to return to the ****** face of the one who was destroyed in the first place.
A motionless moment of silence and eyes opened wide
In them, hysteria and animosity combating gracefully.
The battered boy’s wrist was twisting.
The lost boy’s body was twitching.
To the floor he slumped with a thump and the glass shard stuck in his chest.
The last lost boy destroyed mentally and practically ******* his pants
(As was I!)
Lay in disbelief paranoia and completely paralyzed.
That was the first time the last lost boy contemplated immediate suicide but couldn’t find anything to end his life
“NO GOD PLEASE NO, NOO NOOOOOO”
To the corner of the restroom he crawled right at the place where my stall lay.
Echoing footsteps and whimpering suspect only for that subject to a loud
Slamming on the door as the battered boy’s foot kept connecting the boys head and the floor with more impact
More force more anger
Pain
Rage
Revenge
It extends
To abuse
He refused to be the son of a recluse and he was a victim of…….
Three motionless bodies.
Chills raced through my body in my quiet restroom and my 3 wall one door stall.
“You can come out now” the battered boy said to me…….
