My spooge permeates
your pores and orifices,
impregnates your brain.

Now your write of poo.
There is nothing else to do.
Just go with the flow.

Your friends might like it.
But I'll tell you what I'll do.
I'll stay gone two weeks.

Bring them on over.
Write enlightening poems.
And be a hippie.

If there is no poo
when I reinspect this site.
I will disappear.