Methinks the here
     to fore purposeful inclusion
     of key word "babysitter"
a slight oversight describing
     residents at Highland Manor
     (a particularly nagging omission
     in previous epistle to detail,
     how flat screen televisions

     constant blaring subdue
     said majority of tenants),
     whereat this emphatic
     writer, (a penny pinching hitter)
susceptible to miss
     out oomph pa, I
     (a poetic critter)
will now intend to convey

     without recourse to:
     instagram, snap
     chat, or twitter
thus, this quasi
     appended verse
     attempts to avoid
     communicating disappointment,
     asper unfulfilled

     childhood, adolescent, or
     young adult jitter
ring circumstances found
     me tubby a quitter,
now as an aging ******
     with decreasing glitter,
     I aver feeling litter
ally somewhat bitter

sweet asper those
     figuratively untasted,
     untested, and
     untoasted fritter
     (comfort zone
     expanding challenges,
now bugging me
     psyche) with jitter

re: ness, cuz yours
     truly denied, deprived,
     and disallowed himself
     tubby a more vibrant
     Matthew Scott Harris
     to get distilled
     from je nais se quois
     crucible of life,

     hence omitting,
     sidestepping (like do si do),
     and skipping tummy
     loo, viz fuel
     joie de vivre injecting
     more verve
     into what thyself
     subsequently evolved into

     a staid staind and dire
     strait tinned existence,
     but no pitter
patter pity please toward,
     this present day
     pearl jam knitter

of (senseless, listless,
     and aimless)
     verse as this human
     specimen racks up years
     as an aging orbiter
round mister sun.