Saturday, August 10, 2024

Stomach Bug [bio-generated poetry, CW: skat]

 Stomach Bug 


I knew it was over

When I started blowing

dry farts into the toilet


When you have the stomach flu

You must exercise extreme caution

With every fart lest you be doing laundry

To rid your pants of shit

Every fart is a possible landmine of gooey butt sludge

You'll run out of pants if you're not careful

Farts, usually heralding a comfortable satisfied feeling, 

Are now your enemy


Yes, stomach flus can turn once beloved friends into enemies

That is the true evil behind its power

It completely destroys your ability to function

As a social being

Nobody wants to be around a shit pants man

And there’s no telling when that bell’s about to ring

So hunker down shitty fellow

And brace yourself for a lonely night

Of writing obscene poetry

For relief


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