The runs

When in the elongated tube

integrity of structure succeeds,

then are you most welcome

within this bowl.

Yet body of sin

causes you to move as shadow

and explode upon the porcelain -

the terrible cascade.

Then I declare you

enemy of purest white.

I gave you a home,

an intestinal sanctuary in which to form,

quiet and undisturbed.

You chose to erupt,

like sauce,

like paste.

Bringer of excessive demands

upon this paper, rolled

as now it dances and spins reams.

Mocker of my bowel,

burner of my hole,

emptier of my bottom's soul.

I banish you

to the sewage underworld.

From my senses do I strive

to cast your savage odour.

And yet, combatant of every attempt

at purest nasal action,

you do linger.