Y'know the way music Bands like to look cool and dark and mysterious
  on their album covers
Well I had an idea for an album cover for an
  imaginary music group/band
It'd be set in a toilet factory (of all places)
So there'd be all these toilets fresh off the
  production line
And the lead singer would be sitting on one toilet at the front with a grumpy
  frustrated look on his face
As if he was really constipated (now it'd be all done quite decorously i.e.
  they wouldn't have their pants down)
Beside him sitting on another toilet would be another Band member with a
  big broad grin on his face as if he'd just done a nice healthy ****
Behind them would be another Band member standing up looking down into
  one of the toilets as if he's just seen  something weird
And lastly there'd be another Band member and he'd have one of his legs and
  foot actually stuck in one of the toilet bowls of one of the toilets.

It'd be a debut album named after the Band itself
And the Band's name would be

                  "The Undecided"

I have had a little problem for the last four days or so,
of when I go into the toilet I just can't seem to go.

I get myself all seated just as comfortable as I can,
try to make quite certain I am centred on the pan.

I wait for things to happen but nothing seems to start,
no motions seem to occur not even some hint that I might ****.

I decide to try and push it and build pressure by holding breath,
but all that seems to do is put me close to suffocated death.

I grunt and squeak and gasp until an ear popped gasket blows,
all I end up doing is going red and blowing bubbles with my nose.

I tried a change of diet and drank gallon upon gallon of fruit juice,
but still there seems no evidence that anything is coming loose.

I have tried a change of position with my knees against my chin,
but I found it really awkward and ended up falling in.

My belly has gotten very large and feels as tight as a drum,
so much so I contemplate if you can use a crowbar on your ***.

I am sure outside the toilet they are hearing more than mere moans,
Looks I get quite often suggests surprise I've still got any bones.

I know that sometime eventually this thing will have to pass,
I just hope that when it does I can still use paper on my **.

Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the night;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, gas lamp, amped up
Yet dampened and cross,
Loss of desire...
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractual binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds...

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of:
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as to not feel
Not at all
Not even the rage.
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
We puppets with
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change.

At war with illusionist-freedom,
The good boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Feeding the loss of will,
If you still feel lost -- and war heros sure do
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines, screams
Pop another pill
Jagged jarhead kills
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheap
Smoke out not to feel...

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...

Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp,  amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change

At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...

There's something I'm itching to write
but I bite my lips and grip the pencil tight.

Nothing comes to mind.

I write this sentence but it doesn't sound quite right, it doesn't quite capture the essence of tonight.

I stare at the wall, then back at the paper where no words land. My thoughts make my hair stand and I want people to understand.

But my hand doesn't move.

So I sit back and write about not knowing what to write.

I wish I could write just as easily as my breath flows.

When your colon is swollen
Use a little milk of magnesia it will give you amnesia
To how sore your **** really is gonna be
Afterward's.