Day 25 - His misery began and ended with his moustache

The morning he looked the mirror in the eye and did not shave
he dropped the whole bag of sugar onto his bowl,
catapulting a slalom of milk over his neck and shirt.

When they first noticed the gauze, word went out:
the job's getting to him. Looks ten years older.
Personal life in disarray - wife's done a runner.

When it had an undeniable presence,
and could not be disregarded as a lapse of concentration,
his wife did a runner.

When he'd cultivated a ringmaster,
his spider-plant died and he was arrested and put on trial
for crimes that were never explained to him.

When it graduated to Bismarckian,
there was a revolution. His home was burned down.
The Republicans discovered him behind a curtain,
forced him to act as their puppet king.

Now he sits in his empty throne room,
pursing his lips to whistle.
The battering ram at the door is a thunderous heartbeat
and he hunches over the plate of mirror,
jowels a lemon meringue pie,
Bic almost electric in his hand.