Prayer to My Landlord

Landlord, you live and breathe money.
It is the cardinal point of your life.
You squeeze it like blood from tenants.
It is the hemoglobin in your veins.

He says his own nightly prayer:

Tax-free deductible savings account
With a minimum of surcharge 

on the premium's security. Amen.

Then he masturbates with a ten-pound note;

Feeling its crisp coolness gently tug at his cock.

Then he sleeps, snug and satisfied.

Lord of the Inner-City Manor,
I’m nothing but your humbled vassal.
But I hate you, Landlord.
Hate your contrived cordiality.
That small-talk void between door and wallet.

Yet I still get tales of his hard times.

I still shed a tear or two.

Oh, poor Mr Landlord, 

Please take some more!