Poem:- Shy Bowel


(More Toilet Problems)



as the medical folks (and WIKIPEDIA)

like to define

is psychogenic




or “the inability to defecate

with other people

around/in other toilets

that aren’t our own.”


Let’s call it a fear about going:


those (like me) will find it’s often in a crowded, public


(like a shopping centre

or the services on the motorway).

No cubicles free/there’s always a queue


and the first reaction

is your guts start to rumble


you get the sweats


and your legs quiver in panic

(knowing full well you should’ve gone before

you left).


Or it could be there’s always someone in the cubicle

on either side

of you (whose trousers you can see round

their ankles)

always putting you



It’s a mental thing


and some of you may laugh


but why, oh, why does the throne have to be so close

to everything



and why does the porcelain

always have to echo

every one of my farts

so everyone outside can hear



I wouldn’t give a shit

(even if I could)


but I often find myself asking these questions a lot when I’m on

my own, locked

behind a door


killing time, trying to take a load

off my mind

(and body).


I like my comfort/I like my space


with a clean toilet and plenty of toilet roll (but I’m not snobby

or fussy)


and I don’t want people going in before

or after



from TALKING OUT MY ARSE (poems inspired by Crohn’s Disease, Hospitals, Public Toilets, Food/Drugs).




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