anal panopticon, shitting in every direction, an anal pillar rising grand, august, most ancient, most inviolable
anal architrave…the ruins of this place are hung with dried shit like hanging moss…scrye the anal pool to reveal intestiny
in my world there is a constant struggle against dissolution by relying on the strengths of the anus, the valiant surge of feces like a forward friend
the mass of my feces nuzzled my pale face, urged me on…”just a bit further!” it chimed…i took heart