By Jaime Lynn Becker

The loose brown dregs 
From my insides 
Without form 
Without shape 
Without consistency 
Without soul 
I am empty 
Hollow I gaze upon the undigested muck 
It sneers back at me I pull the lever 
Ridding myself of at least this round 
For now 

This piece is from The Feminist Toilet #1. To go back and read more, click here.

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