You hear that? It’s the sound of a pained moan.
It’s the mating call of the rear southern zone.
Here we go, the cheeks are about to give birth.
They will show us all their brown valued worth.
But what comes out is a dreaded sightly unseen.
It’s visual appearance is the opposite of clean.
And the smell is quite another matter.
An overwhelming stench from this splatter.
It’s like a rotting corpse, it’s stink is inexcusable.
But I suspect it’s alive, somehow transmutable.
This sickening mound of brown throbs and pulsates.
It’s a jungle beast resembling a handful of baby snakes.
Before it can do damage I must abort this rancid creation.
I slam the flush button to farewell the hideous defecation.