Daemons within gray matter of this male run amuck...

hence yours truly (me)
seeks mental health services

without any luck
even after reading Scripture

from my namesake who exuded pluck
after paging thru

the AETNA Medicare directory,
whether a group practice or individual,
I expended energy and precious time today
June sixth two thousand and twenty four

hoping to get linkedin and truck
with a suitable therapist,
cuz various and sundry issues
such as chronic anxiety, dysthymia,
obsessive compulsive disorder,
and panic attacks plagues
sexagenarian old body electric
matter of fact mein kampf
and hard times reducible

to four letter description
conveyed by the word yuck.

Exhaustion prevails courtesy emotional distress
self evident to any anonymous reader
predicated on morose poetry of mine
invariably discouraging positive ambitions
for friendship receiving,
yet I experienced

unexpected welcome response
from over the hills and far away
where Teletubbies come to play with me,
whose fealty being a bosom buddy
gratitude sexagenarian does express
and so what if three score
plus five year old does regress.

Once upon a time

more than half century ago,

in a faraway galaxy

this second born and singular son

of Harriet and Boyce Harris

(mother and father since passed away

May third two thousand and fifteen,

and October seventh

two thousand and twenty respectively) though

both parents during their lifetime

beset with impossible mission

to administer to my psychological woe

and actually unwittingly exacerbated

 

dysfunctional behavior of mine

exhibited, jump/kick started,
and witnessed videre licet

courtesy their verbal

browbeating with ultimatums

aghast at irregular impulsive decisions

to attend this, that or another institution

of higher learning

post high school graduation

psyche subjected to actions experienced

being whipped back and forth,

to and fro, hither and yon

analogous to ma yo-yo.

 

Scads of irrational thought processes

bombard nooks and crannies

within me swiftly tailored

harried styled noggin

sense and sensibility

doth create veritable boondoggle
stumping psychological masterminds

even Sigmund Freud himself if alive

would be mystified and ask ghost writer

of Mary Shelley to craft sequel,

 

where Doctor Victor Frankenstein

rids trademark neurosis of mine

shape shifting Matthew Scott Harris'

witnessed when whirled

wide web of electrodes

activated courtesy toggle
subsequently flash brilliant lightning bolts

in tandem with deafening booming thunder

reconfiguring bitta bing bitta

chitty chitty bang bang switch

 

rendering corporeal cerebral flesh

truly significantly reconstituting

dogma, enigma variations, karma,

and persona of aforementioned

poet of Perkiomen Valley into altered state,
whose psychological state now mimics,

dovetails, and approximates

that of Neanderthal man

forever linkedin to seventh heaven.