No matter Tuesday, November 5, 2024
still one hundred and eight days away,
(thank you Julian Date Calendar -
FOR LEAP YEARS ONLY),
I believe a foregone conclusion
that Donald Trump will win
based on the pathetic debate performance
between Joseph Robinette Biden Junior,
and Donald John Trump
in tandem with the stellar performance
of the latter at the Republican National Convention,
which appeared to surpass great expectations,
a gut reaction, cuz I could not stomach watching
the main star and near future dictator.

I may view some or all of
The Democratic Convention
scheduled to be held August 19 to 22, 2024,
at the United Center in Chicago, Illinois,
and by tradition, because the Democratic Party
currently holds the White House,
said convention will be conducted
after the 2024 Republican National Convention,
which was held from July 15 to 18, 2024.
Nevertheless, yours truly
will not betray his political party loyalty
to cast his vote for the former named candidate
and simultaneously brace himself emotionally
drafting gofundme site with catchy slogan
and image showing tin cup hand
for sudden homelessness
of myself and the missus,
the result of social security disability,
AETNA ADVANTRA MEDICARE,
and Medicaid being axed, gutted, slashed, et cetera
as well as many other socially progressive programs
unless this gassy, generic, gifted, and goofy guy
experiences an unexpected windfall.

Actually... another alternative exists
videre licet despite the admission,
I don't really feel ready to die,
and the spouse would kill me
if she finds out one bumbling,
doodling, fiddling, hemming
and hawing, jump/kick starting wordsmith
would dare leave, whereby
she would lack
her figurative rock of Gibraltar.

The idea to emigrate to Canada,
or just drive until reaching north
of the border dividing line much
more appealing, but no family or
friends linkedin to my network,
nor, cuz this solitudinarian can
call on nobody except an elder
sister living in Woodbury, New
Jersey, or a younger sibling (a
veritable globe trotter), she and
her husband call Bend, Oregon
their mostly permanent residence.

Yeah, I attest to be all talk and no action
envisioning myself made of stouter stuff
with the help of powder milk biscuits,
which gave me the courage
to acquire superhuman powers
which allows, enables, and provide
a guise to bedazzle readers
with my brilliance.

No other particular marketable skill can I avail
long story short mental health issues sabotaged
healthy development of body, mind, and spirit
evinced with difficulty similarly as challenging
as blind double amputee person learning Braille
when segueing from childhood's end to adolescence
experiencing puberty found me
fraught with emotional travail
vivid remembrance of things past

taking piano lessons
at the house Missus Eva Youngblood,
where her daughter Barbara taught
courtesy John Thompson's
Modern Course for the Piano -
numerous lesson books
helped yours truly learn
how to tickle the ivory keys
at some point, I succumbed
to severe grievous state
collapsed in a heap
on the floor and softly wailed
lamentably plaintively sobbing
pausing between weeping
to ejaculate “I cannot live any more,”
or some such sentiment.

Ted Goldberg, a psychiatrist
at Collegeville Counseling
did his level best to draw out
responses from a little boy
who remained mute,
and said degreed professional resorted
to play one or more popular board games
which choice of activity
elicited non verbal reaction,
and needless to say this approach
slowly but surely gradually
found with the aid of melirill -
(thioridazine HCl) an anti-psychotic medication
in the phenothiazine class
used to treat psychotic disorders
such as schizophrenia and elavil -
medication used to treat depression.
Amitriptyline belongs to a class
of drugs known as tricyclic antidepressants.

Both prescription medications eventually
bore figurative fruit,
and coaxed my tongue to wag.

Anorexia nervosa got nipped in the bud
before I literally starved to death,
totally undermining mental, physical,
and spiritual well being
presenting impossible mission
for this then seventh grade student
assigned to section 7B1
(if memory serves me correctly)
to assimilate lecture material,
thus scoring the lowest marks
with flying colors
(such as black, blue, and red),
and getting promoted

by the skin of my teeth,
with mine ancient history
adding up to being
a deplorable basket case
thru the remaining years I attended
Methacton Junior/Senior High School
actually at some arbitrary petticoat juncture
I gave up exerting one iota of intelligence
and adopted apathy, and honestly failed
at receiving an education,
cuz yours truly occupied a desk,
but never uttered a peep,
thus succeeded (as inscribed
on my curriculum vitae)
Matthew Scott Harris
did an exemplary job
taking up space and time.