Howami? hmm... good question,

but for some unknown reason

more tired than usual...,

without daily twenty four hours

proper rest, I feel haggard.

 

I strongly suspect (a hunch acquired

upon returning home

after visiting Notre Dame)

deep sleep interruptions...

attributed to uncontrollable need:

tap a kidney, micturate, spend a penny

(thee last mentioned British, informal)...

quite displeasing... yea urinate kidding.

 

Methinks perhaps to purchase adult diapers

(or fashion/repurpose water absorbent material)

in an effort to stave off awakening groggily

after experiencing an awesome dream, cuz

REM (rapid eye movement cycle) interference

 

courtesy natural function versus external

noise, which when slumbering both equally

affect bringing about onset of fatigue,

yet herewith yours truly intent to hone in

on former.

Meanwhile, he hoops to entertain thee dear

anonymous reader with the following poem

posthumously dashed off while falsely

believing himself to transition into afterlife

So sit back and kick up dem heels

without falling on yar crown

and/or bare stocking feet

and/or if ye prefer by all means lie down

attempting moost impossible mission

 

to flip (i.e. reverse) any lurking frown

other than standing on head whereby gown

and/or other stitch of clothing (casual wear)

preparatory to embarking on scheduled hoedown,

perchance participating among other groupies

(a gratefully deadset of fervent beastie boys

and goo goo dolls) join fracas intown

where martial law heightened surveillance

police able, ready and willing with Billy clubs

to crack then scramble noggins, and knockdown

 

civilly disobedient citizens in dire straits

politely courtesy coronavirus

(COVID-19) lockdown,

which heavily truncated livingsocial options

inextricably linkedin with societal meltdown

 

psychological fallout endemic among Caucasian

or hue men/women talking heads of natural nutbrown

persuasion, which madding crowd (think Woodstock)

where little upstate New York town

of Bethel hmm became quickly overgrown

 

with peaceable folks across gamut

regarding age, nationality, race, religion...,

rendered superfluous strong arm of law to putdown

and/or quell any anarchistic uprising

(perhaps even top brass

military industrial complex)

 

incognito as... beetle browed brothers

of some contraband slated to perform

and eventually gain world wide webbed renown

donating their unexpected proceeds

to upgrade and gentrify

 

one after another shantytown

even boosting fame and (mis)fortune

of Matthew Scott Harris

at long last, he could relocate

out his tumbledown abode to parts unknown.