My porcelain throne is empty like the streets.
Until now my ass had issued a retreat!
This shiny bowl, oh so clean and neat.
No longer that way as I begin the excrete.
I’ve held it back as long as I can muster.
But this is one hell of a bowel buster.
It comes out with such a tremendous force.
This terrible, gooey ex-meat sauce.
And the cause of this disastrous splatter?
Days old meat coated in batter.
But the effect it’s had on my rear…
Has left me in a state of fear.
The angry brown tide surges so quickly.
It comes out lumpy, gross and sickly.
It floods out my house and down the footpath.
An antisocial, brown aftermath.
They say a safe social distance is two metres.
But what about a river of two hundred litres?