My professional treatment plan
predicated upon duress in extremis
hence Electroconvulsive therapy,
a last ditch effort I avail
and surrender self qua
to shock the monkey (me)
one (twenty first century)
obstinate bipedal hominid turncoat
optioned, aye bewail
as desperation if standard
psychological measures peter out
leaving nothing but pall tree
(paltry) choice, and
to be frank and/or ernest
if necessary to blackmail
either Doctor Demento or
Doctor Frankenstein,
not out of the question,
cuz accidental discover re:
less than credit worthy
visa vis could yield
(ahem) grave zero APR,
hence bad (bon Jovian) medicine
shot thru the heart
sought as precautionary
measure for measure to countervail
undesirable repercussions
paralyzed with panic attacks
hoop fully intervention doth curtail
any unexpected train of thought
kept on track and not to derail,
thus every nitty gritty detail,
asper my treatment plan
made purposely amenable
courtesy cooperation Matthew Scott Harris,
every aspect must absolutely dovetail
with The Elements of Style
or hew very close
to strictures of
Strunk and White,
or similar facsimile thereof, anyway
strict requirements quality controlled
with results tubby
sent as easy to read email
encryption avoided to scotch flummoxing
which ain't so daunting a task,
whose basic simplicity
did not take up max
(imam) headroom, nevertheless
said minimalistic approach
rooted in advanced mathematics
feigned as hair brained scheme didst entail
hatching with Sam I am
(of Doctor Zeus fame)...
Oh...My...G___ gadzooks
no failsafe recourse, should
shell shocking Electroconvulsive therapy
even slip up an infinitesimal jot
offsetting requisite exactly predicted results
yes, even if precision errs
by a mere clipped fingernail...
the sought after outcome
(devised on the fly - by night
Reddit writer above named author)
who will most certainly flail
like some GMO gone awry
(if patient accidentally got electrocuted)
finding him to become instantaneously
petrified and frail looking
analogous to witnessing
healing powers wrought courtesy
iconic legendary Holy Grail
humble gray cup
used by Jesus at the Last Supper
if tightly gripped stronghold slackened
shattering into a bajillion pieces,
whereby the heavens,
would rain baseball size hail
scaring every last man,
woman, and child to hightail
suddenly materializing gendarmes
donned in heavy duty boots
studded with many a hobnail
stamping out duff feet,
sans long arm of law and order
standing ramrod straight on their heels,
and if any scapegoats nabbed
definitely consigned to jail
subsisting on thin gruel and kale
the latter packaged
at hydroponics plant in Lansdale
without chance of parole to prevail
wardens instill fright even
most macho prisoner quail
no matter innocence their fate sealed
he/his, she/hers
might possibly be free to sail
to some tropical island
awash with carbon copies
of Euell Gibbons doppelganger,
hawking, munching, touting...
many pine tree parts as edible
when Alpine mountains
beckon forth to scale.