Inflation

If you reduce the weight between your thighs
It needn't drop that weight upon your shoulders.
You've let your conscience swell to the same size
As those engorged and overloaded boulders.
There are some cells you cannot police.
A billion inmates scream release.
And one iron bar requires grease,
So listen: drop your flies.

Decades you've had sans pleasure (you say 'sin').
It's time to lose your bottom half's apparel.
Are you so selfish that you'll hold it in
When I'm so plainly staring down the barrel?
That's good: now don't you interrupt.
It won't be long till you erupt.
I don't know why your hands are cupped:
I'll take it on the chin.