On The John - Poem by Austin Wheeler
All men have left preposterous thoughts in the water closet.
Temporarily tucked away from the world's perpetual descent,
Peace in equilibrium is reached despite the scent.
Reminds us of our timid domestication; dont know what the cause is.
Drawing us in daily despite the season,
Our eyes softly survey the ceiling,
Its the first place where revolutionaries planned treason.
Liberation and shedding of the past defines the feeling.
Some think the room of rest is where we sleep,
However the bedroom awakens demons, here they control.
Genius dreams from the toilet are the only ones we can keep.
Why do prison bathrooms spread a stronger desire for parole?
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