The Fumes! The Fumes!
My sanity is consumed!
The stink trapped in the bed…
Is messing with my head.
The doona contains the reek…
Of everything I ate this week.
The stench wafts out from the top.
The air is shared with internal slop.
This source that brews within…
Once it’s out, the bowl is fin.
Better not drop this load at home.
It’ll destroy my porcelain throne.
I must carefully plan its delivery.
Though my gut weighs heavily.
Slowly I crawl out from the bed.
Filled with cramps and dread.
Legs fail me, I slump to the floor.
Lacking strength to move anymore.
So here I lay on my beautiful rug.
PJs witness birth of brown slug.