Symptomologists care for the whethers depending on the weather.
They’ve formed a focus-group lobbyist consortium in Washington and next week they march.

They march for high blood pressure;
     high cholesterol too.
They fight for frequent urination
     and salivalicious goo.
They fund grants for cracked skin
     and oily residue.
They defend cricks and creaks
     and formica beef stew.

No, HGTV soup is nary a symptom.

I simply needed a rhyme and ran out of time before my dog pissed herself.
She’s so patient while I write but here it’s taken four hours to write a career path for budding symptomologists.

It’s a wanker-filled whim to come at you this way.

     I saw your reflection on a moldy, milk carton.
     You weren’t the one missing though tangentially invoked.
     When I asked how you slept through the thorns of the morning
     You said that you wept ’till the sun went away.

Now there is a symptom worthy of attention:
A weeping so woeful, it shames the bright sun.


Sock it to me

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