To Fish In The Cyber Sea

Always does this generic guy abhor
inflicting pain and suffering,
     hence I haint n'er fished before,
and even metaphorically
     referencing piscine creatures
     (strictly as prosaic analogy),
     aye reel lee deplore
causing deliberate suffering vehemently

     contradicts my credo,
     dogma, ethos, et cetera
     within and/or without, the
     webbed, wide world
     this **** sapien doth explore
and as an aspiring scrivener
     (fraught with floor rid sweaty palms
     even in the dead of winter

     offer poems galore
already written alluding to the
     unpleasant physiological ****
rubble sensation of dripping
     (nee sopping) wet hands,
a curse that follows me indoor
or out, thus no surprise,
     an aversion to mingle,

     no matter socialization even jure
re: duty with defendant
     whereat, me complicit sharing
     Matthew Scott Harris namesake
     accused of outrageously unreasonable
     po' wet tick rhyming scheme
(but nonguilty exemption status
     decreed since accused ache'n to yours truly

     receives social security disability)
would be a more welcome palliative
     versus less wick
     Kurd substitute then Cap' kanger
rue, and ameliorate self imposed
     sole lit aery isolation and
     on the flip (Wilson) side keeping
     streets safe, cuz temptation

     dust newt not lure
me into a life of crime) more
or less chuckling,
     that profuse perspiration,
     would be mon nor
matt heave, while
     accomplices fall down
     laughing in tears,

     and thence the poor
seer suckers nabbed
     (cautionary fruitless
     canter berry tale), and
     (whew) not sullying
     only whetting my
     steely slippery rapport.