Thumpity thumpity thumpity oops!

No idea what caused it. No specific idea, as universal a lifestyle may seem at times. I do that a lot, back off with a qualification, not just for a signature stylistic (referring back to the overall theme) like an alarm clock set for bed instead of floor, socks, sweats, shirt, phone, glasses, downstairs, good-morning, a careful closed-mouth kiss, coffee and whatever is otherwise required. No, set for the late hour, something like the tides only in reverse, and I reluctantly acknowledge I have had enough of the implausible.

The thing is, there's a small typographical conundrum in which I have touched the dot one too many times and it straggles, pushing me forward in the way that a paradox often does, against my better judgement, for tomorrow comes quick, nay, has arrived, and now it is the particulars that propel me to another line.

I swear, I had intended to stop. Accustomed is what it is, a matter of habit, or several, that find me debilitated yet... and then it comes, the blank stare.

.

Too late to return to the initial impetus, in fact, no longer an issue, or so it seems, so now a decision must be made.

I'll go to sleep.



No idea what caused it. No specific idea,
as universal a lifestyle may seem
at times. I do that a lot,
back off with a qualification, not
just for a signature stylistic
(referring back to the overall theme) like
an alarm clock set for bed instead
of floor, socks, sweats, shirt, phone, glasses,
downstairs, good-morning, a careful closed-mouth kiss,
coffee and whatever is otherwise required.

No, set for the late hour, something like the tides only in reverse,
and I reluctantly acknowledge I have had enough of the implausible.

The thing is, there's a small typographical conundrum in which I have touched the dot
one too many times and it straggles, pushing me forward in the way that a paradox often does,
against my better judgement, for tomorrow comes quick,
nay, has arrived,
and now it is the particulars that propel me to another line.
I swear, I had intended to stop. Accustomed is what it is, a matter of habit,
or several, that find me debilitated yet... and then it comes, the blank stare.

.

Too late to return to the initial impetus,
in fact, no longer an issue, or so it seems, so now a decision must be made.

I'll go to sleep.