Sometimes I read poetry for a little reinforcement...
I'm not the only one with a mind like fine china.

I'm a nervous wreck,
my anxiety gets so high these days,
I can feel it in my neck.
Pulse. Pulse.
Beat. Beat.
Nervous as ******-Doo.
As if a monster roamed the street,
to turn me into stew.
But my monster is my self,
I'm my own worst enemy.
He keeps me shackled up,
so the world can't see true me.
I guess it's fine though,
I've become an introvert of late...
I still like an adventure,
but it's usually on my plate.

Words,
they have some arcane power, the
ability of adjectives to steer our mind subjectively.
The presence of nouns, now, they'll denote something of note,
could be a cookie, a concept, a cart, a coat. Of course
there's pronouns abound to substitute these nouns,
from her to him, and from me to you;
it's pronouns that make a sentence feel new. Now
we musn't forget the versatile verb, the essence of to do,
verbing verb is quite absurd though possible, it's true. But how to
enhance the explanation of an action, for example if I'm acting,
who's to say it's great or lacking,
well that's an adverbs job to do.
And...
We can't forget the connective.

Putting pixel to page,
he types.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

Fingers flurry away,
he swipes.

Zap.
Zap.
Zap.

Showing symptoms of age
he writes.

Crap.
Crap.
Crap.