Buttered Crack

Something I ate must have been too greasy.
Now down south I’m feeling a little uneasy.

Either that or the last wipe was done in haste.
Between my cheeks I feel the sickly paste.

With each step my fat ass jiggles about.
This sour lubrication is like a slippery trout.

I remember now, the paper was far too rough.
Wipe after wipe gave my rectum a hard chuff.

This cheap prison paper causes bad situations.
Aborting the wipe too soon led to sloppy frustrations.

With a sigh I go back for round number two.
Now to clean out the steadfast rancid poo.

This buttered crack is such a terrible disgrace.
But at least I don’t have the fecal on my face.

Pure Pooetry

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