The Runs Redux

Striking again at the most inconvenient time…
The gut-wrenching feeling of impending slime.
A fart is the sound of alarm bells ringing.
The look on my face is far from grinning.
Straight to the work toilets to commit this wet crime.

But The Poo God is smiling, no one else is here.
The bathroom is empty, I trumpet a farting cheer.
Taking the throne, I open the floodgates.
The water below receives its brown fates.
But a soupy spray spits as The Runs reappear…

Things take a turn as the fecal starts venting.
A violent forced outpouring of brown cementing.
A lumpy liquid blast lifts me right off the seat.
A full 10cm from the ground hover my feet.
And now my anus is sorrowfully lamenting.

Another flash fecal flooding erupts without warning.
What a way to start off another Fecal Friday Morning!
Not as bad this round, but still worth noting…
Especially as cheeks receive a splashback coating.
Then the sting of a ricocheting piece of corning.

Pure Pooetry

No comments

You can be the first one to leave a comment.

Leave a Reply