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Pooetry

Grotesque Growth

A grotesque texture, feeling rough.
Out my ass the farty foam does puff.
It is something stinky and heinous.
Filthy fecal birthed out my anus.
Sickening display of wet, brown stuff.

The menacing mass multiples.
I hear the buzzing of the flies.
Like vultures they descend.
Toward the rancid S-bend.
Now witness my rectum’s cries.

A repugnant Repulzelesqe rope.
Slides down the porcelain slope.
A never-ending torrent of brown.
Contributes to the growing mound.
How ever will my anus cope?

Just like an ever flowing stream.
My ass will never again be clean.
So I make this cubicle my home.
Populate it with chocolate gnomes.
I’m the master mould, so it seems.

Pure Pooetry

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