#restroom
“Did you bring the specimen sample?” the lab employee asked,
“UUhhhhhhh, no, I wasn’t aware I had to bring it.”
“Well…you can’t do that in here. Can you go home, do you live around here?”
“I wouldn’t be able to get back before you closed.”
“Ah **** well, okay, take this,” he handed me a sample jar, “There’s a restroom on the second floor—”
“Woah! What? It’s a single-use restroom right?”
“Yeah man, don’t worry, we’ve all gone up there when we needed some privacy.”
“Jesus, okay, thanks, I’ll…be back…soon,” said in the manner of a partial-statement, partial-question,
And so there I was, on the second floor of a lab facility, attempting to get a sample after perhaps I had already produced too many samples in too short of time, especially for a man like me who is no longer a teenager, it was a rather difficult process, the environment was less than conducive, and when it finally happened it gave me an exertion headache that was so excruciatingly painful I thought my brain was going to ******* explode out of my ******* ears, my life’s work, concluded as I fell to the pissy floor of this restroom, having produced an extremely small amount of sample, what I had been viewing on my phone would have surely amused many, disappointed a few, and maybe flattered one, but ultimately nothing would matter ‘cause I would be dead, oh well,
When I went back downstairs to the office and gave the employee the jar he handed me a sterile one and told me, “Alright, just in case we need another sample, do it at home next time,” and I did.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:27 PM UTC
Here I sit unbroken-hearted:
I tried to **** and did, and farted.
Here I sit by fate or chance:
For ******** sitting's the proper stance.
Jul 24, 2024
Jul 24, 2024 at 4:07 PM UTC
Bathrooms became sanctuary in high school;
with tear stained countertops,
gossip soaked walls.
Even the constipated souls
had motion.
Pressing their hands against the ceramic demilune sinks
they would let their tears flow like water through the faucet,
until they found comfort in the arms of another.
Hours spent before, between and after classes
they found comfort and friends
in the conversation that flowed in the bathroom.
Checking themselves over and over again
with the reassuring voices, “you look great” from behind.
Some walk in and hide behind the door of the lavatory stalls,
flushing away sadness,
and washing on a smile on to their face.
Like the granite in the slabs, the memories made
will will be hard to wear off.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
cold tiles and
a rose sink
cuts that make
it hard to think
clogged drains
florescent lights
bolted doors
that lock so tight
a beating heart and
closed blinds
please dont leave
me left behind
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC