He won’t give his twenty
Claims he is bleeding
Call is ending
Streets are empty
Can anyone hear Bob screaming?
Married but not together
Machine his predecessor
A wife he couldn’t pleasure
All hail AI / Bob has died
Caught stumbling all alone
Gripping his phone
Like a trail of bones
Stabbed and shunned
Car with hazards on
A billionaire with no gun
City center is fun!
Close enough to be stabbed in the chest twice – with a kitchen knife
Bob was perfect at everything but being a husband eh (gaslighting)
I’m not stupid, Bob. How dare you. “I sleep with men but I’m not gay”. LOL (God)
(This is how I mourn. It’s called the 7 stages of grief. I’m on ANGER)
Seeking help but wouldn’t give the one call your location – fucking lost – on a street you mostly lived – c’mon!!!!
You should have stayed down! The adrenaline spikes got yah!!!!
“Angel investor” NO BRO – DEMON who doesn’t even Tweet or acknowledge women – it’s sharing “bro this”, “bro that” and comments to other boys about “why aren’t you here already” and current posts from said person ain’t shed a tear of your passing
AI is not the way
White pawns are under attack
White lives don’t matter
Bob, you should have stayed down
Your lovers fake plastic sister living in a 2 million highrise – in the same building you own
I got the popcorn out
You remember the Looking Glass?
God already won
The Devil taking his fine time drawing his last move – getting as many souls as he can – drowning demon
Image is everything to these demons – they wrote the playbook for crying out loud – in the closet gay!!!! He’s ruined the world! His daddy too!
Maybe I’m sorry but maybe I’m not!
Sidenote: they don’t get it – but I inherently get it. I wouldn’t normally either. However, this instance, it’s like a direct arrow to my broken soul. Boom this way to the singularity. No no this way to heaven. It’s like you and I play pull rope (what the hell is that rope game actually called)
I can’t recall JJ’s nn either – and he’s the one who sent it to me through the ether. I was all offended and like “no bro”. He loved it.
I’m trying to quit this Russian weed – my brain needs time to sort the pathways
I mean, if I had a phone, and I needed HELP, I’d like CALL the authorities and like “I’m at a glass building, I’m dying”
He knew them streets like the back of an Android
YOU OUTTA THE CLOSET NOW BRO
Gave it a decade huh then ran back home to live with daddy
“My best friend”
I wanted to punch my mom when she said that about her first born – as I was the family slave ghosted (triangulation)
2 responses to “Bob’s dead (poetry)”
❤ ❤ hugs!
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Nice to see you, hope you are well