Didn’t want to make it here today. Made it anyway. Tired but restless. Cock is hard. Had to take express train. Cock was hard the whole time. Awkward but I covered it completely upon very luckily getting a seat. I think someone sitting downcar observed the bulge, though. I don’t care for my own posterity I just don’t want anyone getting uncomfortable or bonerized in their serenity.  Am I even supposed to be here? Every word spoken by others will prick and stick at my firmament. My shirt feels good, though. The shirt on my body feels gentle and sweet, like it is breathing for me.It is short-sleeved, solid black, and in the pocket there is a pear steam. I am running out of choice spots for my pear steams but I can embolden myself to challenge myself in my pedestrian ways. A woman has been sending artistic images of herself naked or nearly so. She makes me feel hard but soft, strong but weak. Most of my time spent looking at her is when I am naked in the shower, and that is where I have been when I sent pictures of myself to her. She likes the pictures I send as much as I like the ones she delivers. Is this going anywhere in the flesh? Anywhere real? I doubt it. As hard as she makes me feel the softness in me knows it’s just a game. Everything is a game, everything is a lie. But God-alive, her breasts are magic. I don’t usually like them big but she is exceptional. The dude whose shitting I cannot tolerate just pranced past, en route to his morning bowel movement. Any time I see this guy I expect a drizzle of feces to start drooling from his ass, staining his pants and causing dismay among the others of us. He has a happy-go-lucky air about him that I interpret to mean he has a right to this, a right to shit shit shit multiple times a day anywhere he is on whatever surface is available. He shits like I masturbate: permanently. Terminally. Perpetually. Which of us is the bigger waste? I, of course. I am waste. I define the term. I slept too late to masturbate and it’s going to be a problem for this day. Oh, joy, the shitter emerges from his castle, his man cave enclave of fecal frenzy. Sometimes I swear I can smell the shit he smeared across his ass, that he wadded up and swallowed after smearing it on his chest and pits. Later he will meet with others from his cult of shitting and have his minions lick him clean of the feces with which he joyed himself.