Whirlpool Fudge Tunnel

There is no toilet I cannot defile.
My aftermath will leave no smile.

When I unleash the terrible mixture.
The plumbing rattles the entire fixture.

Porcelain rumbles, creaks and cracks.
Violent and volatile, erupting angry crack.

Torrents of dread surge to the depths.
Gushing sludge the s-bend accepts.

Fetid brown ropes swirl and funnel.
Whirlpool fuelled by my fudge tunnel.

A speck of yellow twinkles by quickly.
Singular corn piece in a sea so sickly.

The vortex gurgles upon its final runoff.
And the flow ends with my butt’s cough.

Pure Pooetry

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