poetry slam

Odes to my hateful neighbors, who drive me crazy, and make me want to kill them.

I've got these crap neighbors next door,
One of whom is a door-slamming whore.
Slams it early or late
With no thought for poor Kate --
Oh, I hate them right down to my core!

3 a.m. I'm awake in my bed
Sounds of slamming reverb in my head
Through the door to 3L
Live the neighbors from hell
And I think they'd be better off dead.

To them I cried and begged and pleaded
But my wishes for quiet were ne'er heeded.
With sheer heartless disdain
They ignored me again
A drastic rent hike for them is what's needed

Every day I'm awake 'fore my time
Just to sleep would be oh so sublime
But they slam every door
With loud stomping galore
They're the bastards of 329!

When they leave their apartment the floor shakes
I can only imagine each board quakes
And with every door slam
To myself I say, "Damn,
I regret ever baking them doorcakes!"