when i meet a “doubter”, to be honest i’m always a bit taken aback. it’s so blatant that everything else is just shit comparatively, how could anyone possibly consider going back? what’s wrong with these people? don’t they smell they shit on the their shoes? don’t they remember how they could never rest, because to lay down meant to drown in feces? it’s genuinely bewildering. but for those of you who have missed out. here’s my brief testimony. (best if sung in b-flat to the tune of that one theme song — you know the one. don’t even act like you don’t know the one.)

poetry

when conclusions were reached
(of the life-changing variety)
we held our noses and trudged
on through the shit piled around
our feet, ankles, and up to our
knees.

and we sprinted for the door
to escape the disease, smell,
and flammability.

immediately upon making the decision
we wondered how we were previously
so unaware of the smell. and
why no one else was leaving.

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