an ode to my commode (a poem about shitty diseases)

an ode to the commode (& other shitty diseases):

its a shitty disease, this thing called “Crohns”
put to a movie title, it would be “king of thrones”

theres a few secrets that some like to keep hidden,
but since im a rebel, i like doing the forbidden
there are too many puns,
besides “it gives me the runs”

“what CAN you eat?” its simply really..
no popcorn, no butter, no spicy chili,
no milk, no red meat, no seeds and no nuts
no broccoli, no beans or id have no guts.

“how do you poop?”
the snake poop, the crippler, the incredible hulk,
the splash back, houdini, the second wave bulk.
theres the spinal tap, the drunk poop & lincoln log turds,
then the one you rethink having cheese curds.
greasin’ the bowl, growin’ a tail,
the times you cant wait to get out & inhale.
its too hot in this room, get me out now,
sixteen times a day, i scream & shout OWWWW.
i grunt, i groan, i scream & i yell
if theres one thing im good at it’s IBD hell.
the bloop, clank however you put it,
a dump is a dump, a shit is a shit.

with the amount that i spend on soft toilet paper,
WELL…….there is no rhyme to this one. im just an expert.

at the age of 26, i cant trust a fart
bring a spare set of panties, cause ive mastered the art.

im an old soul, trapped in an old body,
thanks to medical debt, retirement wont include a Maserati.

creaky joints, spare clothes & osteoporosis,
the joys of annual tests for Tuberculosis!

laxatives have become a part of my norm,
sometimes if im lucky, my poop has great form!

you may have left me with medical debt,
and sometimes depressed, since theres no cure. yet.

“what do you eat?!”.. a familiar phrase..
the others? oh, i could go on for days.

misconceptions of “invisible illness”, ive heard them all.
“youre to fat, youre too skinny”, too many to recall.

the most annoying one?
“i’ve got your cure-all”
“stand upside down, eat tree bark, take these supplements, youll be fine”
while i roll my eyes, envisioning bottomless wine.

should my poop be this color? am  i sicker than i think?
all of these strange symptoms just make me want to drink.

porcelain throne, john, loo.. i see you too often, in my humble conclusion.
look beyond my smile, often its illusion.
im exhausted, im tired, i want to throw in the towel.
some days i do.. because fuck my small bowel!

my buttholes itchy
im feeling bitchy.
in many ways, IBD deserves no praise..
but its strangely blessed me in unexpected ways…

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6 thoughts on “an ode to my commode (a poem about shitty diseases)

  1. I laughed till I cried. Somedays I feel the same with diabetes. I’ve come to the conclusion that people are clueless and fuck their cure’s. I give you so much credit Kelly. One day we need to chat

    Like

  2. Hello I also have Crohn’s disease with fistula’s and also an abscess issue. I wanted to say that I love your poem so much. You were able to say everything that I have always felt and didn’t know how to say. I hope you don’t mind if I share this on my blog.

    Liked by 1 person

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