The wart-encrusted feelings burp up from an acid-seared gut
& I say hello, adieu. Vortex ideas swirl as against porcelain
carrying floaters down the drain. Wave goodbye, don't fish for turds.
The rumpus of mental excretion is filthy. Let it go 
with a smiling grunt. It's not play-doh - so don't mold & sculpt
artsy-fartsy glaze, fire, or patty-polish--
who let it in? -- harder to squeeze out
Sometimes seems to yodel like a ventriloquist 
into the bony echo-chamber, insinuating, weedling
the nutter into a wrestling match but merely needs
a good flush, but before yanking the chain,
must note the smelly contents, then be dissed
& forgotten