I’m masturbating furiously and crying while sitting in my bathtub, meditating wholly on the concept of gratefulness leaving my self in a state of nothingness. Is that what I want?

My teeth are fuzzy. I’m rising from my bathtub to brush my teeth. That would be something. What are teeth and why are they fuzzy? Can they be fuzzy? Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, wasn’t he? Am I baring my teeth?

Am I brushing my teeth? Why not brush my teeth while in the tub? I’m free to do so if I choose so. Who does that? Is it a valid preference or am I wasting water? Am I living in the spirit of highest self if I am living in waste? Is masturbating wasting? Haste makes waste. I’m masturbating, again, or maybe it’s one long continuous masturbate in broken intervals. Then what am I doing in between?

Washing? I meditate on the notion that I’m actually washing my genitals, repeatedly. Any reaction from my washing is perceived as masturbating. Am I perpetually masturbating? Why not? It’s warm down there.

What is friction? Is it spiritual or physical? Aren’t the two interconnected? One and the same? I’m meditating on those concepts and there interconnectivity, but wouldn’t I be best served by stimulating the physical to enhance the spiritual and returning to my masturbating? Or can I stimulate the physical with the spiritual and spontaneously erupt?

Did I poop before I bathed? Am I clean if I poop after? I rise, meditating on cleanliness. Again I feel nothingness.

I’m sitting back down into the warm water, nice, and masturbating furiously. Is that compassion for my self? Or is the great spirit of the universe dictating my compassion.

Are my hands my own or at the will of some divine universal force? I’m meditating on this while sitting back in the warm bathwater.

I’m forcefully masturbating, while I cry and smile, disconnectedly.

Written by Jack Zullo.