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Brownian Motion


A look of horror on my face

and my mouth begins to mumble

I feel my heart begin to race

and my footsteps start to stumble


I slowly get up off my seat

as my face starts turning blue

My life begins to feel off-beat

Forsooth! I need to poo!


I rush into the nearest stall

squirming with unease

My pants and boxers I let fall,

I unclench and release


Amidst a din of gassy sounds

My face begins to glow

With the rhythm of machine gun rounds

I reach a steady flow


I squirm and struggle for many an hour

And time begins to bend

When suddenly, like Hiroshima,

It comes to an explosive end


A rush of joy runs through and through

I keep my head held high

With a solemn face I leave the loo

Exhausted I let out a sigh


But joy gives way to woeful moans

For when I let one rip

A sound I heard that chilled my bones

The soft murmur of a drip.




Published in Poetry


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