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It's what your bowels were made for.

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You have strolled into Shitespace.
Do not be alarmed, it's quite nice here. Just kick off your shoes, put your feet up, and have a giggle in our cosy little haven where nothing matters, and you're safe from the nasty outside world.

Pick Of The Day

Enter The Bowels Of Shitespace


You gave "Not Funny Anymore" a Cock.      Rating = 10.00 (31 votes)

Bloody Lucky
Kate

You think you've got it really hard,
But not as hard as I.
There's really nothing harder
Than what's up my small brown eye.
The agony of sloppy shit
Is fear I'll never know,
For my own poor shit is hard as steel
And I cannot feel it flow.

My belly swells with methane,
My abdomen aches bad,
My arsehole strains to open,
But it can't so I get sad.
My toilet weeps without me.
It hates that we're apart,
But these days when I'm sat there
I can barely blow a fart.

My pants, devoid of skid marks,
Are boring as can be.
I hang them on the washing line,
Their whiteness frightens me.
My cheeks turn red and purple
And I strain my sphincter more,
But all that ever happens is
My arse gets red and raw.

I've sampled lots of roughage -
Like Fibregel and bran,
But my arse will not relinquish
My long-digested flan.
I've dined on bread and All-Bran,
It didn't do the trick.
I think I might explode quite soon,
I feel I must be quick.

I think it's time I gave up
And used my last resort.
My arse is getting tighter
And time is growing short.
I'll go down to the doctors
And give a girly pout,
And perhaps he'll get a long white tube
And flush my bowels out.

But... hang on... what's this feeling?
Oh God... This must be it!
Those several pints of Fibregel
Have made me want to shit!
I must then end this poem,
I have no time to waste...
Oh fuck! Oh God! Oh Crikey!
... Oh no.

 

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