I’m in a new place
With post B day poo
Dropping down deuces in this rather nice space
Hitting it up, in a new to me loo.
Dessert, drowning in chocolate and topped
With gold leaf.
Poo, not nice but not the worst I’ve dropped
To be brief.
And now I’ll check out the wipe
And hope it ain’t lame
But if I know the type…
It’s horribly the same.
Woken by the street sweeper
My brain is barely working
My butthole started jerking
This poo was not a keeper
It demanded release
At 339 in the AM
Who knows if I’d have played’em
If my sleep did not suffer decrease
Wow, what a log
Honestly, I concerned.
It’s a big boss hog
Of junk food eaten and earned.
I amazed it came out
And that I’m not town and bloody
The size of an arm or there about
And the water looks quite muddy
Plus an army of little turds
Slowly join him in the bowl
Like Little minions he herds
from the depths out the hole.
I knew it too.
I had plenty of time from she
Who tells me what to do.
But I tarried and delayed
With nothing to wipe
My bleeding butthole splayed
Panic as I sit here and type.
Into the shower
I must go to get clean
And next when I have the power
I’ll prevent such a scene.
A moment of truth about the state of my bum
There’s been some tearing that’s got me quite glum
Anal fissures is the technical term
They hurt real bad making me squirm
There’s bleeding with the pain
That screams in my brain
And I hate that dread my daily poo
Because I love penning poems from me to you.
Let me be Frank
This poop…well, it’s nothing great
If I’m Earnest, it’s nothing to rank
Hi or low, it doesn’t get a rate
Surely, that’s not true
I’m betting you say
But really, it’s a Luke warm poo
At the end of the day.