I sense a certain feeling, a sense of foreboding.
Somewhere in my gut, something needs unloading.

There’s a steamy stink emitting from my bowel.
It has a distinct aroma, something utterly foul.

It’s a bit rotten, waxy, with a musky scent to boot.
I give it a soundtrack, I release a trumpeting toot!

So I head next door to the ice cream parlour.
They specialise in chocolate and something darker.

The ice creamery owners greet me with smiles.
They cheer and applaud when I bring them brown piles.

I take my position above the chilled steel tank.
Feet squared, and ready to drop a mass so rank.

I tell them this new flavour has been weeks in the making.
Finally, my Chocolate Poostachio has finished its baking!