" So Michael dropped his pants and turned his butt toward me. I sat down on the floor and pushed my nose between Michael's butt cheeks and sniffed his...stinky butthole. Michael's butthole was dirty from not wiping good the last time he had defecated. I could smell his old dried up shit. Then Michael farted. Michael's fart was very stinky, like fresh shit, but he had not told me I could stop smelling his butt yet, so I kept smelling. Michael farted three more times before he let me stop sniffing. I literally had trouble doing simple things, the thoughts of her were becoming so all consuming. I knew she felt the same. In my next letter, I sent her this poem. I wanted her to know that no matter what happens, I will always be there for her.You Can Believe.When something deep inside you dies,When people around don't hear your cries,When sadness starts to fill your dreams,When something deep inside you screams,When loneliness overtakes your heart,And anger starts to tear you apart,That's. More

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