Peeved.

There's a mountain in my kitchen.

It's made of plates and bowls.

It's overrun the sink and more...

including all our souls.

I'd swear the thing's alive,

a reproductive pile.

I've finally come unhinged at this,

my own customized trial.

You'd never guess that dishes

could irk a coed so...

but OCD is real, you see

and peaks when sinks o'erflow.

My eyes well up with tears.

My roomies just ignore it.

But when your life's in disarray,

you sometimes have to CHORE it!

Day two hundred and five:

My fingers have decayed.

It's hard to type with only stubs,

but it's a worthy trade.