Watching Toilet Bowl Lv Highlight of Snowy February 7th 2021
Watching toilet bowl lv highlight of snowy February 7th, 2021
Above title attests how mine mundane mein kampf
flush with adventure overflowing excitement.
Apt aforementioned accurate personal description
culmination of decades worth hesitation and trepidation.
Ever since garden variety generic guy
long since experienced being little boy
mean kids constantly teased and bullied me
on account yours truly being small fry.
One puny socially verily withdrawn lad
no surprise experienced suicidal ideation
throughout public school even as undergrad
never wagon figurative tail when fired
from one after another workstation.
Hence metaphorically hermetically sealed self
against incessant beastie boys squirreled away
amidst imaginative escapes courtesy bookshelf
isolates myself, viz remaining figuratively at bay
interestingly enough petrified livingsocial whereby
flesh and bone closely resembled hardened clay
hashtagged Matthew Scott Harris as pipsqueak
deadset to halt physical maturation without delay
anorexia nervosa (modus operandi) did buzzfeed
starved and emaciated lovely bones as main entree
unbeknownst then, but clear as a bell now
emotional state of parents unspooled and didst fray
father and mother aghast their pallor went ashen gray
grim reaper wielding large scythe intimating hooray
approximately half dozen years later
both parents relentlessly vilified verbally hammered
and especially didst inveigh
against their sole singular son
born thirteenth of January
hooded think those folks who begot me cruel as kkk
to escape vitriolic wrath atop roof at Glen Elm, I lay
Gambone builders bought property razed demesne
nevertheless indelible memories emotional reprieve
spiritual succor delivered upon many a bygone May
when heat radiating off shingles served newgateway
passing time and wishing myself far as Norway.
Yours truly risk averse
which characteristic,
I declare constitutes curse
thus isolation found me sprawled out
upon wuthering heights
against regular diet of diatribes
delivered carte blanche
with expletive filled verse
toward solitary son ill fate
receiving nasty brutal abuse
considered dying far less worse.
Precious minutes and hours atop
gabled hideaway blithely did elapse
me gingerly scuttling out attic window
though agoraphobic and loathe to drop
distance and no longer courting death
no matter concluding life (during
early/mid twenties) total flop
merely wishing rage against
male offspring would stop.
Inconvenient stated truth,
albeit synopsis regarding
second born (middle child)
begat courtesy Harriet and Boyce
upon their psychologically harried
flesh of young blood
yelling hurtful words severely uncouth
(both parents deceased)
now said heir long in the tooth
who wonders why forsooth
he tolerated torturous abuse.
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2021
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