peace of mind

My apartment, once the scene,
of lazy sex and quiet privacy,
has erupted during the past
two weeks into a virtual cave
howling drunken insanity. There are
people sleeping everywhere – on my
bed, on the couch, on the cot, and
even on sleeping bags on the floor.
Everything in the place is covered
with stale beer, most of my records
are ruined, every piece of linen, towel,
or clothing in the place is filthy, the
dishes haven’t been washed in weeks,
the neighbours have petitioned the
landlord to have me evicted, my sex
life has been absolutely smashed, I
have no money, no food, no privacy,
and certainly no peace of mind.