Dunno. Just ate too much in the last six days.

Well, even in the last 2 weeks.

New year. New diet.

Shitload-keen diet 😌

Many hours later a single tird is still floating mid-water.

Resilient!

Sitting on the toilet, I just realised I had none today.

Weird.

Well. I had to go!

Dull he?

Ok.

Stop.

No.

Nope.

Go on.

Turds thrashing on my arse.

A little of constipation,

Turns my joy into frustration.

Well. New year. Same shit.

The world is not changed.

Fish in the ocean still dying for petrol leaks.

Tirds still splashing in the toilet.

The world still shines.

Low signal still makes me post offline.

Yet, my tirds are a pile of creamy soup joined to be a compact liquid blob.

Weird? My arse doesn’t know much about abnormalities

There’s a big problem here.

The house I move to spend my new year’s eve has no signal 🙄

I won’t be able to report my shat’s in real time!!!! Fuck.

Who cares, really?

Here comes another surge.

It’s violent.

I’m not yet done. Still sitting here.

Still hurting. Much.

What shall I do? I don’t even believe in God!

There’s nothing I can do but wait for this plague to end by itself 😖

I was relaxing on my sofa, just like I do every morning right after my breakfast. No noises whatsoever in the surroundings, no people stressing me out.

I was almost falling back asleep, when my belly suddenly made me wide awake with a strong and firm hit.

Fifteen minutes later I am still writhing, sitting on my toilet, tirds occasionally be spilled out of my arse, suffering the tortures of the damned.

I had to take a pause every two words. I can’t tell my story any better. I’d rather be dead in such moments.

Just like everybody else’s shits, some of mine are just dumb. Dull. Dusty. No, not dusty, just DIRTY.

Not the healthier poop ever

I was happily wiping my arse up, when I realised I made no post.

Shit! This holiday-mood is affecting even this. But I can’t forget! THE SHY TIRD DOESN’T HAVE VACATIONS!

Nice. Another Christmas passed by,

The snow is not falling outside

Under the Tree, same old stuff,

My head snowing dandruff.

My poetry smells badder than my shit.

Again. Fucking Christmas!