Il Gattopardo

Lounging around the house all day,
loudly blowing off while
watching Jeremy Kyle,
resolutely not dusting,
not hanging out the washing,
refusing to use the Hoover,
not even thinking
to empty the dishwasher,
shredding the papers,
eviscerating the post
(and something
that might once have been
the postman's hand),
fornicating with the scatter cushions,
eating raw meat
in the sitting room
(without a plate
to catch the drips of blood
and bits of bone).
That rug will never be the same.
He's driving me insane.

Never showering
and (I strongly suspect)
not even washing.
When I had the audacity to suggest
he might use some Lynx deodorant,
he had a right old hissy fit.
Look! There he goes!
Smoking jazz fags!
Reading jazz mags!
Just look at the ruddy state of him!

I've warned him time and time again,
that if he keeps this up
then we will have to go
our separate ways.
Now I've had enough.
This was his final chance.
You know, it's true what they say:
leopards don't change their pants.

B.R. 15/11/2017