Rigid Code of Obsessions

wheel ding utmost pro lix: scrum compulsions won despite feeling dog tired, (like a ton of bricks weighed me down) while seduced by the sun solar radiation from the sky didst lightly run sans, i experienced a weird wired wider sensation pun knee sensation otherwise, this sun dry older puppy nun the wiser (feeling akin to an overly sated book worm to boot) on a Mon Day, nonetheless, forced by male incarnation from Lon don, (via NON FAKE voices inside my noggin) a potential Hun these tired eyes, could NOT stop reading even with figurative gun at my head, until only sluggish progress made, which daunting task not fun bore witness thru novel (in this instance plotting thru - dun know if fie could finish One Hundred Years Of Solitude - by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) pea pulling his story with bun dulls of Hiss panic Alpha Numeric characters, - per printed page punctuated concluded with a period, (premature mental dejected ejaculation exclaimed how ah yee got trounced by harsh obsessive compulsive task master. "Nay unto you Matthew Scott"! Uttered by exactly same grievous rot while er...mailer daemon (as above, pot tent shill slave driver subsequently not quite ditto for identical bon mot mind wielding damn mask kid ding lot intonation, now setting me hot to worry about my thinning hair, the little aye got as expressed vis a vis A previous poem of mine titled 'Argh! I suffer the plight of Bad Hair Year In One Day!'