re-zlyx-ation

I work on it, work on it -My body's got myofascial glass,have to break it open like a glowstick.

It's gross the bodily fluid storage;I want to fast-forward it.The apartment is made for someonea foot or so shorter;repetitive strain, unergonomic.

By complaining with poems about it over & overMaybe the amalgamation of verse willmotivate some vergence.

Like a table outside for online orders& less bending over -Some day we may afford it -Though I rather wish to obsoleteall the required grating labor, it's within reach.