My bowels attacked by mysterious forces.
Sinister fecal churning and evil causes.

This shit-storm brewing is ready to break.
An unnatural disaster, not unlike an earthquake.

The stirring within is whipped into a fury.
I can no longer hold back the poo smoothie.

Slamming ass to bowl, cheeks do surely bruise.
Now to set sail is this revolting sea cruise.

No control over my body as the onslaught pours out.
It’s as if my ass were in some fictional poo draught.

I’m spun three-sixty, then again and again.
It’s as if I’m at the rodeo, right in the bullpen.

Pivoting on the porcelain, poo spews at ludicrous speeds.
The toilet cannot keep up with this hurricane fecal feed.

I’m lifted right off the bowl then thrown aside.
All from the Shartnado frothing from my hide.

Pure Pooetry

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