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Pooetry

Meaty Sunday

Too much hearty meat eaten the night before.
Stockpiles in my bowels have grown much more.

A nasty gas leak gives a grave warning.
This is going to be a heinous outpouring.

Rush to the porcelain throne, and plant my cheeks.
I grunt and groan until my knees are quite weak.

A monstrous fecal mass does emerge below.
It gives off a radiant, yet stinky brown glow.

I imagined my exit was once that of a pinhole.
But now, stretched far out has become my asshole.

Alas, such was the force required to out this beast.
That I’ve sworn never again another meat feast.

Pure Pooetry

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