Penitence Service

Arrayed, before me,
Three housemates sat,
Obligingly, and somewhat stiffly,
Since their hands were tied—

The first,
The housemate,
Who’d spawned a cigarette-end ocean,
Covering the garden,
Overflown into the kitchen…

Second,
The housemate,
Who’d urinated everywhere,
All over the bathroom,
Spoiling the nice cleaning,

Lastly—
The screaming,
Writhing,
Blood-thirsty, infected one;

They were quite the sight!

The first one—
I made them eat…
A cigarette-end sandwich,
From their own discarded ends;

The second housemate—
Had to drink,
Because I said so,
And because I’d meticulously collected…
(Over the past few months),
All of the piss,
Which they’d so carelessly deposited;

To be fair,
I’ve heard that blended piss is not as good…

And then,
The demented, noisy zombie housemate,
—By now frothing at the mouth,
For I’d made it sit,
Mere inches from the other two,
—So close, yet so far,
From that which it craved…

The housemate who’d had it worst,
Was probably the second to be devoured,
Since the zombie, at least,
Did get its favoured last meal;

The first housemate had it rough,
I admit,
—Yes, they were torn limb from limb,

But the second had all of this,
And had had to watch their fate,
Unfolding right before them,
—The poor soul,
(Not really);

All too soon, my work was done,
The problems— firmly solved,

I morphed back into my usual,
More terrifying form…
And reluctantly took flight,
Of a good night’s work.

🌪