Tingling Scalp Poem by Matthew Harris

Cold shower today - (early afternoon)
September eighth two thousand
and nineteen more challenging than June
dog days of summer test tolerance
to feel alive and bark at the moon

hypothetically imagining myself
alone in the (suburban)wilderness
fabricating, envisioning crossing pontoon
bridge while humming nonsense tune.

Jolt to body electric induces zing
unlike missus who cannot wing
subjecting her sensitive skin
versus modest bragging

rights of this faux king
please pas din me boasting,
but perhaps explanation
I shower without hot water
linkedin to aging.

Which (no matter cumulative
chronological orbitz around sun
just a number) , the fleeting
passage of years doth stun
more so forces me to assess

mein kampf, retrospective
devoid of nothing merit but pun
hushing disappointment plus
self deprivation of fun.

Alas within narrowly
circumscribed realm stale
stagnation doth prevail,
I easily overwhelm
courtesy panic attacks of this male
bred avoidance behavior

(cue Pavlov's dog)hearty and hale
trained to withdraw
from challenging tasks
markedly pronounced when fail
my middle name,
where besiegedpsyche doth ail.

Fatherhood, albeit necessitated taking ace
sip of courage, sometimes
adept to chase
fear of unfamiliar, though
never totally erase

sing passive behavior
I attest infrequently to face
anxiety inducing situations
poise zenned clowns
feign amazing grace

me convulsing with intimidation
agitating, flinching, recoiling...
retreating into isolated place
while profuse sweat drips
from every porous space

heart beat does madly race
despite absence of any threat
exhaustion spent without
factual, logical, rational... trace.

Time and again work fraught
self into lather for naught
recurring soap opera taught
me impossible mission
to rinse figurative suds
unlike showering/washing hair,
whereby cleansing wrought.