rew4er2nail

Remorseless sweaty palms

despite being prescribed glycopyrrolate.

 

Though the angst riddled psyche of mine crafted youth, long since receded, ebbed in the past, infringement, impingement, and indecent wracking wrath of mental illness, that even as a middle aged mwm of lxiv bold faced roam min times, I can acclimatize, characterize, empathize, harmonize, italicize, and massage sympathy for prevailing physiological symptoms of =>

Sweaty Palms

an ur...bane curse

worse than mega death

aggravating enough fo\' me

to resort tit take or meth

speed dilly, and then not

getting ticked off watching Seth

Thomas - thee clock man

ewe fact chore er, and his hands

incrementally inch to...

regarding the aforementioned

relentless frenzied state.

No idea when the chronic onset

of sweaty palms first burst forth

upon thy totally tubular

handsome grooves that criss cross

the flat skin surface of my hands.

 

These lines called \'palmar flexion creases\'

develop before birth.

 

This modern day bipedal hominid i.e. human

primate attests (like the average person)

two main lines across the palm,

but some have a single \'Simian crease\'.

 

Profuse outpouring of perspiration

(as if Biblical Flood gates opened)

oft times directly related to adrenaline

coursing through every pore
sans the underside of my hands)

reflexively followed by swiping
said clamminess (in vein)

on clothing or woolen pocket size cloth

brought along with me everywhere I go

(cuz a lamb might not part ways with mother

Mary (of story book fame),

and this chap would shear lee feel sheepish

toting extremely cumbersome

to tote in the event this intimation

predicated on decades worth of experience,

 

when in the throes potential

such ordinary action strongly shaking,

grasping or holding hands took place

occurred sopping wet

clangorous human clapper,

(which frenzied trickling akin

to a vicious feedback loop),

my psyche feels under staccato

rat-a-tat siege from an

unknown invisible enemy),

the natural inclination

to withdraw myself

from bad company of others helps

stave of self-consciousness.

 

This avoidance of socialization

subsequently impedes any promotion

of a hankering viz genuine friendship,

employment and desiring carefree

bona fide affectionate

bonding with family of origin and/or

thy two precious progeny.

 

Understandable per the human reaction

to shrink away and recoil quickly

when pressed to touch

what feels like a wet noodle.

 

Ah…courtesy of Google

I now know sweaty palms sports

a dignified name known as palmar

Hyperhidrosis.

 

Here all along (meaning the majority

of my LXIV chronological

hash tagged buzz feeding

orbitz around the sun)

this plague constitutes

a bona fide medical condition.

 

Also reassuring to realize,

this generic guy need not

count himself alone

in the sopping wet wilderness re: this plague.

 

Such problematic health condition

impacts, comprises, and affects

one to two percent of the world’s population.

 

One Doctor Rafael Riesfeld

purportedly knuckles down
and makes hand over fist handsome income.

 

Will power alone seems

a dauntlessly futile endeavor

to rid oneself of this disruptive condition.

 

Try as one might to put a lockdown

on the propensity for sweat glands

(synonymous with the term eccrine)

are pack within sub surfaces of

hands, forehead and feet.

 

As linkedin to the sympathetic

nervous system, the body electric

under stress activates said glands.

 

Profuse moisture dripping

like a faulty faucet

severely affected everyday activities

of my existence since a young adult.

 

Frustration to complete a simple task

such as opening a doorknob,

using the laptop, and even writing

concomitantly associated

with droplets of water soiling

green sleeves to appear near saturated.

 

Without fail interpersonal ambitions

hi-jacked when wet as a dishrag hands

found me disinclined

to experience social rejection.

 

Though sprung from overactive

predisposition to anxiety, these secret

tory organs get exacerbated

with the honorable privilege of

being gifted with panic attacks,

offers little consolation.

 

your prospective clammy handy dandy

blues clues budding friend

where chocolate candy
melts in my hands not my mouth.