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croob Apr 1
The floorboards of my psyche
creak, aching to be seen.
None perceive beneath skin deep,
which continuously treads on me.

Finding voluntary grasp
on reality repugnant,
I made a momentary lapse
of judgement, which collapsed
into sustained abundance.

You don’t like to be arranged -
strange; I don’t think many would.
Just because you can change, though,
doesn’t mean you should.
Doing so, there’s a chance
that you’ll remain misunderstood.

See me, see me, make me real!
Validate the things I feel!
Fix me, fix me, make me whole;
I ******* hate that ***** Nicole.
croob Jan 14
welcome to my poem!
I am a very sad man.
that wasn't a non sequitur,
whatsoever.
the two things are entwined
quite like cooked swine and wine,
or a sock
and a guy in a bind.

my heart beats...
people up; "ouch!" they say,
as it pumps blood
into that *******'s face.
this is a very rough quick WIP more like sum spare thoughts but I wanted 2 post it *** I'm ******* sad tonite
croob Apr 2020
Good dogs get beat, too
You may not believe it,
But just look at this shitzu.
Poor dude.
Bloodied. bandaged. Paws bruised black and blue.
Who knew
A dog could turn such ghastly colors?
And who would enact
Such horror on another?

Waiting, panting in heat,
Sparky barks for the man
Who left him in the backseat.

There – emerging from the krogers,
That's where he's at.
6'5, but still fat,
And rocking a combover.

He smokes Newport's into Sparkys face,
And remarks on the heat-
Though he hasn't got fur,
And has turned on the AC.

Sparky tries to lick his face
The overheated little hound's
Heart does not have a place for hate.

Give me a break! Pleads the man,
Punting him out the window.
croob Mar 2020
Sure as the rising tide,
I'm sure to change my mind.
Much like an aurevoir,
I signify goodbyes.

Sinners fester better in the church,
those Sunday vermin
Pay rapt attention to the sermon,
Those ratbastardly *******
Listen in rapture to the pastor,
Go straight home and beat they meat after
Describe their niece into the searchbar
So they can watch some actors clap her.

What am I?
Insignificant.
Who am I?
Undetermined.

I guess I'm just a riddling troll under a crumbling bridge.
I'm angry as ****,
And I been for a bit.
******* and **** me too,
And **** all this ****.
croob Mar 2020
Here she comes, a runaway train

I chase her, pleading
Please, baby
Take me back!

She doesn't hear me,
(She is a train)
And speeds off.

I lay my lazy body
on the track;
I have lost
all will to write.
croob Nov 2019
A fair warning,
The clunk of my buckle is.
A fair maiden,
Under Satan she's buckling.

She can not distinguish her existence from his.
He extinguishes her resistence: with a brisk tsk,
Insistent kiss, or a closed fist,
She inevitably succumbs
like a suicide risk.

Staring into the abyss, courteously curious,
Without the flinching, you would think shes indigenous.
But it gazes back, furious,
And rises up in indignence.

Pity, they are good for nothing
but pretty ******* good at *******.
Pity, pretty soon they will be
Swallowed up
By something much larger than his ****.

Amen; praise jesus.
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