Random rhymes with no pretensions

So. I sat in the dark, oiling my rifle.
Eating pudding, thinking of trifles.

Suicidal writers, constipated divers,
Monogamous snails, monotonous strivers.

Happy ending massages,
Purplicious passages,

Rockumentary documentaries,

Surfeit of exclamations, obsequious protestations,

It'll all make sense, if it's not in the present tense,

But in some limbo of the past,
when the die is already cast,

And decisions aren't needed,
where Love doesn't die unheeded.

But with a loud shout, and a pitiful groan,
it attracts attention, a Munch alone.