Sleuthing Shitting Sloth

Four coffees deep and I’m touching cloth. It sleuths out slowly just like a sloth.

The stench is pungent, heavy and thick. The logs so robust they start to stick.

Not uncomfortable, but not quite fun. The logs curled softly like a cinnamon bun.

The air gets heavy, my brow now wet. Multiple logs, have made me sweat.

I sit for an age, I start to contemplate life. I barely realise, my anus in strife.

It’s nearly over, I’d almost admitted defeat. But I knew my anus could do it, and handle this feat.

Pure Pooetry

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