Tedium Poem by Saul McCandless

Ironic reducer
Diluted his size
Micro idolatry
Got your head-money?
For yourself, for them

Baggage decays
Dull and swollen
For my conception, like he dies
A search for leisure
w/ easy muzzles
w/ no proof of denial

Promotion if you spy
On indiscriminate intercourse
But, of course, tedious though they be
I enjoy whats free
I like what I see
A zodiacs crack'd
A little shack, at best
From my perverse noose
W/ a rugged mortuary

A brothel once more it has become.