Roman à clef tragicomedy...

overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf

in summer re:

typed out during winter of my discontent,

when yours truly no spring chicken

stirred ruse to expatiate poetically
regarding following rhyming reason,

hence mine lovely bones

into graveyard will shortly fall.

No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,

a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,

such that I wanna leap

out this metaphorical bleak house,

a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep

ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap

trickster, our mutual friend
Matthew Scott Harris,

harkens back quite a few winters ago,

where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.

Principal reason I write
to balance and aright

gratitude regarding unexpected tidy largesse

constituting special trust fund
(thank you dad -

spirit of Boyce Brandon Harris),
where eyes suddenly got bright,
and bushy tail wagged

incessantly day and night,

a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,

which cash equivalent,

equals countless denominations

characterized, granted, lorded...

Benjamins, Clevelands, McKinley's

plus dime a dozen legal tender

currency memorializing other presidents

blessedly alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight
off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white

castle amidst prickly bishop

obviously one prone easily to excite

amusing little lord Fauntleroy

groomed as heir to throne,

enthusiasm since his birth did ignite

(Aesop pose) storybook life,

where fanciful elation did take flight

buzzfeeding, droning, fancifully feasting
on par with... I twist Oliver (all over)

courtesy Mister Bumble bee in flight

sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.

Ah to gather rosebuds while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking,

now at mine three
score plus three orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay

prurient predilections once
spawned time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,

now... raging hormones stagnant clay

hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,

jackknifed limp bizkit

impossible mission to kickstart

long bereft testy tickle
yar seaman quizzical,

slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay

ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,
no place for Peter to take holiday

barring ingress to ply skin flute

amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.