Ulcerative Colitis: Bleeding From The Inside

   This may be in the category of too much information; nonetheless, I will tell.
   Summer has arrived; moreover, I am thunderously outta remission, suffering the sanguine circumstances of Inflammatory Bowel Disease (Ulcerative Colitis).  Futurity offers me the possibility of having my complete large intestine removed, relying on the singular function of a stretched out small intestine crafted vertical and glued to a reconstructed anus--fun.
   However, due to mental illness, social phobia merged with psychotic disorder--the fun is short lived yet still sought after.  Rolling naked on the floor, putting newspaper beneath me, attempting to have normal bowel movements as the toilet frightens me with linoleum floor possibly hexed by a passing pubic hair.
   Specifically, I can't pass stool.  Urgency, pushing; next, the gore of toilet war--blood smeared fecal matter, bursting forth with the muster of a myriad of Sherman Tanks pounding my large intestine gone bad.  Even Jesus could pass stool.  Everybody on the highways, encopassing my suburban stronghold--freaking EVERYBODY can pass stool but me.  Still, facial or genital mutilation usurps my suffering.  Verily, a large intestine that doesn't function is only trumped by a severed penis or shotgun blast to the face.  How to live when you can't shit?  Relying on the stool softening of laxatives in industrial containers prescribed by magnanimous psychiatrists because your G.I. Physican won't offer you the merciful gift of sublimity--it's all here baby.
   At least the steroids make me feel good.  An injection of rolling thunder and elatation for a number of hours before crashing, gulping down some anti-psychotics and wishing medical marijuana was legal, yet Conservatives wanting you sodomized and incarcerated if caught with marijuana in the Dirty South--these bucolic states rarely as progressive as the West--Jim Morrison giving ode:  "The West is the Best!"
   Regardless, everybody suffers, and till the Genetic Revolution when humanity will grasp godship, well until then, we are all a bunch of sons of bitches, bleeding, fucking, dieing,  I'll be naked on the garage floor, newspaper underneath my rectum, pushing, hoping more than blood leaps outta my bowels.  I love you all--and prayers galore to the worst of you.
   Oh yeah, new book:  ATOMIC GOD.  My books, like Pynchon stripped of cerebral capactiy, still, forging words outta COMPULSION, HOPING TO MERIT HEAVENWARDS.
   Buy Mark David King's Books!!!
  POST SCRIPT:  When you get a blood transfusion, feeling the B Negative souls and consciousness of spirits entering you--it's a pretty cool thing.  God Bless those who suffer from Inflammatory Bowel Disease.  And does anybody know how long you can live without a large intestine, relying completely on the small intestine crafted downwards?  And Ulcerative Colitis and Crohns are sister diseases; thus, what if my 4 colonoscopies are wrong?  How long would a small intestine last me?  2 to 4 years at best, before becoming inflamed and ulcerated.  
   But whatta 'bout you Mac?  It'll be okay.  Say your best Act of Contrition, Read The Brothers Karamazov and blast off to the Abrahamic God--YUP . . .
   Sincerely, Mark David King  Too, read Gillian Flynn's Sharp Objects