a pressing matter

one day after a coughing fit
timmy realized that instead of shit
what came out from his ass
were tired clouds of wispy gas
how he struggled, how he tried
(into his butt cheeks his fingers pried)
but nary one nugget of gold
would into his desperate hands enfold
he wondered about this strange caper
(at least it saved him toilet paper)
dejected, he unzipped to pee
so pray imagine his insane glee
when from his pecker, without a pause
oozed steamy pungent mustard-like sauce.

ram cobain