when confronted with the quotidian predicament
of a finely forced awakening while still half asleep,
i blindly hit the space next to my bed, attempting
to deliver the knockout blow to an annoyance
made of shoddy plastic in a bland sea blue
(i do not mind the colour, and neither does time).
sometimes i win this encounter, but usually
all i manage to do is fall off onto the cold floor.
and this is where my daily dose of spontaneity
ends.
hidden pilcrow 