it is always there
some of it will come out soon
i am a machine
do these words resonate with you? sometimes i get caught in an endless stream, if you will, of thoughts about poop, and where i can find it. despite being a ruse, i found that the article in love letters inspired a lot of deep thinking for me. things like “if someone can imagine another person letting the poop out of there butt in an inappropriate place and i can believe it, then that must mean that it happens” and “what i let the poop out of my butt in an inappropriate place?” then i started thinking “when there is poop in my but i–” catching myself, i came to understand a new fear i have, a new fear that comes with understanding. understanding that there is poop in my butt, and always. sometime soon some of it might come out, but i constantly make it, and this small relief will not stop the deluge of responsibility, the responsibility of putting my poop in an appropriate place.
please: i invite you to respond, and feel free to do so anonymously if that helps you open up. but for this post in particular, i’d like to try to have us all write something in haiku as the focus of the piece. any explanation of other comments are fine, but let’s get creative on our own asses.