Magic, Pooetry

A Poo Lost in Time

Feels like aeons since I shat.
My bowel has grown quite fat.

I take the porcelain throne.
Release the ancient with a groan.

This load is old and stale.
The scent has turned me pale.

This nasty fecal is never-ending.
Too much! My rectum’ll need mending.

Hours, days, weeks and months pass.
An infinite poop spews from my ass.

I see the mould grow on the tiled walls.
Witness the decay of the bathroom floors.

The world around me crumbles away.
Into the void of brown dismay.

And now time seems to stand still.
The ceaseless shite is testing my will.

My facial hair grows long and whispy.
My still puckering hole becomes crispy.

My joints become twisted and rigid.
Frozen has become once fecal liquid.

I’m paralysed all over except my anus.
Forever still barfing the brown heinous.

Pure Pooetry

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