A shower-inspired stanza or two, immortalized here before it disappears from my working memory:
O my Lord of Fear and Torment!
We, your most devoted servants
Wish to chase away your boredom
At this hour late!
Can you give a decent reason
Why lies empty my black prison?
None to play with. So displeasing
At this hour late!
(Later)
What's the purpose of your torment?
It intensifies the boredom.
You're already thralls and servants!
Get out of my sight!
The fourth lines are supposed to all rhyme, but I'm not sure I can do that, so for now leaving it as is. To be revisited.
Hui, you got me addicted!