Landlords Husk

The story, as far as I can tell is about a pair

On one hand, a landlord

and on the other, a tenant

And It’s important to understand that they are two but also one

Like a pair of pants

One does not exists without the other and so

It’s difficult to say who wears the pants in the relationship

Or if they put their pants on one leg at a time

Or which one would like to get into the others pants

Or which one should keep IT in their pants

One of them wears the other 

Flaying them from the waist down

And slipping into the skin 

Wearing and being worn are two sides of the same coin – stolen from a poor widow

And deposited in the scrotum 

To evict is to crap your pants

And to seek serenity in your bowel cavity despite the mess

(They’re really someone else’s pants anyway)

This is the landlords death-drive

To flip a property inside-out like a glove

The rooms inverted like poor pockets pulled out 

Hanging inside out - out of the front door

Gored like guts, prolapsed - property

Landlords haunt and are haunted by this oxymoronic premise

Like ghosts living in an abandoned house 

Fostering the fundamental falsehood of their existence, 

which is — as you know — that 

Landlords are the only parasite who would have you belief they are the host