Sloane swallows.
***** is ****!
I execrate extraterrestrial.

We are all kaput to conk out.

Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky.
Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty.
I verily don’t grease a *****
Oojakapivvycum.

If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of
Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism.
The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff
It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing *******.
I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies.
I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert
That penetrate ***** creature.
I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it.
It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing.

We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium.

I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux ****,
But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android ***.
Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself.
I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail.
I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types.
I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs,
Ad hominen id.  Ex post facto,
I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself.
I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ******,
Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème.  
Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.

I loathe him.
I like the sound of that one.
Loathe. It stretches out the tongue and draws the lips together.
Loathe. Webster's says that it expresses utter disgust and intolerance.

Execrate. I execrate him and all he stands for.
"to declare to be evil or detestable"
Sounds ******, just like him.

I abhor him.
Abhor--to regard with extreme repugnance.
Abhor has that hard air sound in its middle like the sound made when
preparing to spit.
Yes. That works.
Except he's not worth spit.

will come unpredictably
not surprisingly

the ultimate hardship to be
weathered
luffed through
mercilessness
and squall
and scud
and a nearly drowning
wave
subtle as the
undertow

though weren’t hardships
named this way—

to be sailed?

what would my first breath
have drawn
had I never felt
my own breath now teetering
upon the thread of
disappearance?

what light would my birth
have shone upon me
had I never come to
execrate it
like an immolation?

the ultimate will wedge itself
beating repetitions into you deep
as the deepest—timelessness

remember when you told yourself
remember this?
pounding your chest?

remember it

you were right

I like to look
out the window
and count how
many rooms stay
lit
after midnight,
on a sunday night.
how many souls
breathe
despair & anxiety.
how many people
lay
and execrate their
following morning shift.
how many people's
child keeps them
zombified
at night.
how many people
just
don't care...
it's 2 in the morning,
and it's
nice being me.

I've learn to abhor many things such as
The taste of salty, **** tears on my tongue,
The aroma of the dewy, crisp forest floor,
The vision of blue eyes intertwined with bliss dancing away,
The feel of a burning hot neck being pressed on by a gelid nose
The sound of a drowsy midnight voice whispering "I love you."
But it seems that what I've come to execrate
Are the same as what I was once learning to grow fond of.

Are we to be knights, valiant and courageous?
Who leap into the fray with eyes ablaze to drown in blood of foes
Or grudging conscripts, having held just enough ground, with
Sullen faces due the touch of the next dawn
Whose names never make it into tales

They detest bald carrion-cleaners so, they do
Even as winged beaks rend the flesh of fathers, sons, brothers
Stripping carcasses from putrid decay to liberation, clean-picked white bone
To spare their loved ones the odious descent into pestilence
Misguided hate hovers in place of black clouds of flies

Weep! Bemoan! Execrate! For all the use it may be
Brick by brick watchtowers fall and signal flames choke into trails of smoke
A portent; walls recede, the castle shudders and recoils
Screaming crow murders knell the looming storm

Are we to be knights?

Our love lays in an unmarked grave
Covered with autumn leaves,
Wrapped in unsent letters

I tend to it secretly, silently
I make pacts with Gods I don't believe in,
I pray to Gods who execrate me

But you
You dance around it
Shouting about your new love
The best one you ever had,
The first one you ever had

Neurological Tinder Box Doth Hotly Kindle
(okay, yukon axe me whatsapp pinning,
     though beep pre spired, cuz mess sigh key
     threads experience didst rubber awe
     as if spun as a micro spindle.)

Woolworth (Penneys on
     the Dollar Store) their electronic,
     dynamic and atomic weight
cumulated decades of suppressed
     crackle, snap,
     and pop, triggering

     psychotic sans tete a tete
legal tender visa vis
     bit coin block
     chain payback daily
     quotidian fits and starts
     trigger torrential spate

impinging ability to relish potential
     existential joie de vivre
     finding me (I rate)
analogous to suffocating
     unbearable pressure, yours truly
     doth eek quate

     to Metallica Mega-death
accessing, hammering, and pinpointing
     (excel lent lee powerfully)
     every square inch
     of mine pate
strewing, sparking fiery

     fingerhut sized explosions,
     and slamming incessant
     psychological torture akin to
     a pernicious hidebound mate
and as of this date
November 20th two thousand eight

scored entrenched occupation
     of my fifty plus
     shades of gray matter
     becoming more agonizing of late,
where suicidal ideation,
     where repressed self hate

sprung from cumulative
     (albeit cloudy with
     a chance of at least one
     meatball i.e. me) psyche subject
     to verbal whipping (yours truly),

     the gloating mean
     bullies didst denigrate,
without doubt half life of
     Matthew Scott Harris

     aint at all great,
yet to some degree, this saturated
     scorpion poisoned, mauled
     and jackknifed fate
in some measure
     duet hoo war ton internalized

     emotions griffins
     hound, feast, and delight
     (more so ravenously
     throve) on Hawaii,
     and seamy to Maui
     didst successfully, (particularly

     throughout earlier decades)
     emasculate, under estimate,
now (in retrospect) execrate
at invisible monster
     on par with beastie boy

     Doctor Frankenstein didst create
only upon death doom
     he part wretchedness
     will hoop fully abate.

Around high noon
today March 19th, 2021
***** impaction I did plaintively croon
until effect courtesy amitiza, which
prescription medication
(in short a laxative)
served as amazing grace saving boon.

Once activated - impossible mission
to suppress strong urge to excrete,
linkedin, kickstarted and coaxed
soon after swallowing medicament
'course yours truly needed to defecate
while taking shower and washing hair
which sudden incontinent spate
comprises anecdote, I poetically relate.

****** obstruction found me doubled over
with lower abdominal distress,
whereby comfort found
me unable to lie
down nor sit upright
(with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating
a bonus well nigh.

Methought generic garden variety fellow
invoking libretto ohm resistant understudy
waste not want not allowing, enabling
and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge
to bolster Uriah heap of balled up
and tuckered out five foot and ten inches
of lovely bones, thence mouthing retraction
of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in
power broker qua mankind
relief at long last provided
posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his
recurring pain in *** mock jagged torture
and asks rhetorical
one word question "WHY"?

Methinks constipation doth spell
worse fate than hell,
which latter named state experienced
while Harris family lived
at 1148 Greentree Lane, thus warrants
the following "fake" farmer
almost a dozen years ago
to craft verses about Penn Valley dell.

Digression away from titled theme:
Circa: 23rd of Tevet, 5760
to 15th of Tevet, 5770
in accordance with Hebrew date
converted, asper Gregorian
Calendar courtesy of Google,
which place of residence i.e.
tract 1950's housing Penn
Valley, Pennsylvania, we
(myself, missus and deux daughters),
we overstayed our welcome
during that decade
abysmal cruel fate,
where surviving members
of spouse's birth family did execrate
and admirably, royally, supremely, et alia
succeeded beyond their wildest dreams
to invoke, foster, andcreate
perdition during first decade
of second millennium Anno Domini

They would not tolerate
my mental illness (schizoid
personality disorder
with ample helping of
high anxiety, and panic attacks),
**** sitter ring excruciating
difficulty maintaining employment
as reason to denigrate
pushing this struggling
young family to absquatulate,
especially as figurative toxic
barbs didst accelerate
soon after, we sit foot
upon cluttered premises, jam packed,
which haphazardly (helter
skelter like) didst accumulate
(steeped amidst, a hoarder's paradise),
elusively east of Eden
teasing chronic pennilessness.

Yours truly, humble fellow,
whose person others
found an easily convenient
scapegoat to humiliate
marrying into a blood
of bigoted, pigheaded,
and small minded obdurate
folks intolerant of every creed dance
except frum Israel, and/or an affiliate,
this un men sheen hubble,
and purported "moocher"
said accommodations never cared
to earn good graces
of MainLine rich Jewish culture,
this atheist among hoi polloi,
a roll (i.e. challah),
he could never assimilate.

If you can't take it, then I'll take it,  I'm taking it all back
When my back is against the wall, if you can't back me, then I'm backing out to outback once and for all
if you try to out me, then I'll outfox you, fox hole you, dig yourself out, this fox is out, no close call at all.
Go ahead, I dare you, try head me off at the pass, double dare me, can't scare me, "off with their heads!" is the decry.
Denounce me deplore me, regail and rail me
Execrate excoriate me, disparage deprecate me.
Besmirch and bemoan me,
Sully, stain, soil and spoil me
It's all just 'noise' to me in the end
Of no consequence.

Move over Linus
Van Pelt of Peanuts fame,
cuz yours truly
also psychologically lame
since prepubescence
mine noticeably long hair

delivered inner comfort,
yet found some classmates
calling me "hippy" by name
though other tormentors among them
hurled expletive laced offensive insults
even ethnic slurs much less tame.

Absolute zero
anti-bullying laws prevailed ahoy
when reasonably rhyming poet
just a little beastie boy
"mean kids" hurtful tactics

they did deploy,
though one bookish lad named Donald Hoy,
he rode the same bus as me,
and most likely practiced magic ploy
to ward off nemesis.

Impossible mission
to detangle mane reason why
I experienced omnipotent
hair reed bond neither thy
father, mother nor therapist

could understand or qualify
outsize (obsessive/compulsive)
significance well nigh
much more (hyperbolically writing)
blatantly mystifying and unsettling

versus comprehending meaning
regarding the bridge on the River Kwai,
whereat these long strands
emanating from scalp, I
imagined them extending
out into space into no fly
zone, and if adored locks threatened
with someone brandishing scissors
one puny lad would cry.

Parents did not berate,
when early within mein kampf,
no matter my mother did execrate
obsessive compulsive thoughts did instigate
long necked pencil geek son
did unwittingly irritate
analogous to Samson

(though Delilah not my mate),
I imbue power courtesy each golden lock
atop me addled sub tracked pate,
where fifty plus shades of gray matter
houses ticky tacky psyche substrate,
which doth bubble, gurgle and percolate.

Only upon taking me last breath of air
viz, when grim reaper delivers death,
I will unroll welcome me
Scottish Harris tweed mat without fanfare
(for this common man),
and just maybe allow, enable, and provide
thee opportunity for scissors

to lop off longish straggly hair
subsequently repurposed into a
security blanket ideally suited
to create creature comfort within lair
for garden variety and generic caveman,
who truth be told lives very near
yours truly in Schwenksville.