"Ectoplasm and Ulcerative Colitis"
Is that glowing mucus in my macabre misery, which is scatological but clean?
Regardless, I wear the mustache of Doc Holliday's mien;
Indeed, the blood of life, and it flows, sometimes, with anguish divine--
Making me a quixotic gimp that can fantastically forge mere rhyme.
Yet, am I cursed and offering amusement to spirits unseen?
The evidence: Their ectoplasmic matter in my stool's unclean, reoccurring dream.
Ya never know how things really are,
And Jonathan Winters was totally bizarre,
Saying: "If your ship doesn't come in; next, swim out to it."
Grab the goofball galore, and don't have a freaky piece within you of nasty grit;
Specifically, rid negativity by popping the zit
On the mirror,
So cray; still, so clear--
But no infection;
Thus, make a man that adores his own reflection.
