I live with reprobate roommates,
Professionals who fail to define themselves.
Their whispers
Rob me of rest at night.
I hear their claws open the fridge,
Protest and disgust under their breath
Over my choice in groceries.
They are monsters on a diet.
They make a line to use the restroom,
Their shadows cast from underneath my door,
I’m disturbed by the smoke from their showers
And their throat clearing.
I clench my eyes and my wallet.
The cracks on the wall open further,
Light is scarce and very bitter.
They will not stop laughing.
When I wake up, I find their clothes,
Business suits sitting at the dining table.
They leave the stove on
And heaven burns.
