Second, third, fourth... stimulus check(s)...

Such would constitute,
the closest phenomena
approximating winning the lottery
cuz yours truly never blessed
winning sizable, nor
minuscule amount of money

beset with one after another setback
token scapegoat (no kidding),
plus puny size linkedin
with spindle shank legs
always bullied and
derided as laughingstock.

Whether rich or dirt poor...
since being young unemployed adult
(yupper, poverty mine bane and,
red badge of courage) the end result...
thus, aye cannot imagine state of euphoria

(yea right Matthew Scott), so just halt
such fantastical thinking,
before being totally shushed up,
nevertheless such luck
would invariably catapult

me into doing a sommersault,
pulling my weak back,
(I got a week back) out in the process,
how mine lovely bones would exult
similarly and/or hypothetically

if lottery numbers I chose matched,
more likely greater chance me getting struck
while inside courtesy lightning bolt,
or got automatically generated did score
winning ticket - suddenly this dolt,

would find himself mobbed by strangers
worse case scenario lured
by paranormal and/or occult,
perhaps stunned with
tranquilizing gun subsequently kidnapped

courtesy sinister satanic cult
comprised of rainbow goblins
trumpeting moral turpitude,
hence words of wisdom
occurred best not to insult.

When awakened hours, days, weeks later
parents (if still living at home)
would spring into action
renting out my former bedroom

to another heavily tattooed and pierced
long haired pencil necked geek
sporting dreadlocks
the late Bob Marley would envy
if still alive.

Castles in the air
suckers' poor me,
thought cha might care
to dangle false promises
and deliberately ensnare
buzzfeeding gussied up

glittering essentially bupkis
that doth blindingly glare
finding meek geezer passively submitting
theme of mein kampf -
never ask for grandeur,
which outcome would interfere
with grist crafting poems.