(alternative title - Hew Seep What Chew Roe)
After drafting previous poem describing effort
to brainstorm (grossly analogous to draining
a swamp), expound, and incorporate avast ga
mutt of threads into fabric when literary in spur
ration most profuse (temporarily exempt from
anxiety, famished and fully rested, perhaps not
necessarily in those exact words nor alphabetized
order) post anorexia nervosa (minus bulemia),
this faux south paw aimed, and beastily strove
to be a two ****** ham handed, double barreled
eating machine way beyond where I could stow
mach, one more forced mouthful of food into
gullet forsaking comfort (at the expense of former
starvation), nonetheless robotically, obsessively,
mechanically knocked worst, imaginary transcept
posts, when unwittingly, ignominiously, and
defiantly disobeying crossing guard (steepled
finger hut arc). Intolerably excessive caloric intake
compensation sans zero sum game when meal time
rolled around. The deliberate refusal to eat (purpose
fully attempted to disappear) undermined requisite
nutriments. Upon supposed recovery from restraining
necessary sustenance, the deficit attrributable depriving
prepubescent body of necessary food attempted
to be counter acted via stuffing my measly under
sized physique way past stated satiation. Despite
feeling sick to the stomach (yet luckily no instances
of regurgitation occurred), a reflexive gorging ceased,
when every other person in the household, (or visiting
friends of parents nobody but this poor soul) remained
painfully pushing forkfuls or spoonfuls of this, that
or other ample menu item. This aha awakening asper
obsessive compulsive disorders prompted loosening
mental restraints, and avoid perfecting burst of
awareness until complete with the epistle. That com
ment mentioned because no intent arose to dash off
another writing assignment. A goal of one missive a
day (to keep...what? Ghosts of past away perchance),
I discipline with some degree of tolerance. Rather
than feel fixated and fanatical (indicative of refraining
from adequate eats, or forcing self to take an excessive
number of platefuls), I accept that maybe some deficit
of energy, a bout of minor unwellness, or fatique means
that obeisance to thee ****** temperament must
be accepted. That philosophy also applies to passions
of exercising and reading. Although a natural euphoria
usually experienced during and/or after the self crafted
routine (best attempted as an natural aide to assist sleep,
which utilization of two ten pound dumb bells alternating
every other late evening with jogging/marching in place.
If you wanna a good laugh, I could possibly rig up some
precarious getup to create a short youtube blog. Until that
time just envision a middle aged older mwm bee bopping
in with the rhythm of music (usually fm 102.9) – soft
decades old rock and roll tunes. Information gets triggered
as of this moment, whereby regular efforts to publicize
the life of one ordinary older chap fuctions therapeutically,
holisitically, cathartically plus an unknown reader may
invisibly share a bond (even if she/he stock key) pertaining
to quandary written in a fashion much more under
stand able than usually the case. Impossible to
categorize style, yet each screenful of purged
sentiments, a sifting how to express emotions, ideas,
thoughts, et cetera seems to settle, akin to a capped jar
of blended tiny pieces of matter, whereby specific gravity deter
mines how lightest to heaviest particles settle according
to unwritten precepts of chemistry and/or physics.
