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Boycott Bowel Movements

Evening, as slow as thy flaccid gases descend.
Covered with gentlest push on the stool so still,
The straining battlement, and coldest chill
Now explosive; I think of bowels that have to bend;
Who soon perhaps, by lachrymosity surely rode,
The gross smell of delay, where pleasure wants,
Expiring, wander amongst thy cherished taunts
Gleaming; and line the floor near thy old commode
Hang oddly, they dirty underwear like a cape
Presented as the holy grail, where the tired body
May rest, near the bathroom now wretched and shoddy,
Nor accord the hourly moans to easily escape.
Ah, magnificent feelings, that give you fresh lumps of bile,
Should grow wondrous like you; leave a perishable pile.

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Poemart 29 - Sonnet - Boycott Bowel Movements - Yorktown Disciple
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