flatmate 2

the banging of the cupboard door

reminds me that I did forget

that lives with me one flatmate more.

whose idiocy seeks an outlet.

they both are sadly poor in brain;

each in his vein, makes wisdom vain.

while th'other erroneously

puts trust in his capacity,

this one succeeds, effortlessly,

in treating no activity

without clear signs he's unaware

he was of cleverness no heir.

and here's the proof: to be of silence

appreciative, is to engage

with the gestational encumbrance

of weaning consciousness A wage,

it is, that begs to be dealt with,

while not all are for the task fit.

but my flatmate can't know this,

because it would require that he

perceives his thoughts, or th'aims tey miss:

alas, their better company

he murders, lacks consistency

to tell him his deficiency.