The world is turned on its side and

visible through a single cracked eyelid

perspiration coats the arms, the legs

upper lip

The culprit who stirred you is

the little man who turns on your brain and waits for it to start

warming up

He looked at his clocked and yelled

“Oh, Dear!”

Sounding the alarms you rustled

and see that it’s 6:50

Oh Dear indeed

Hollow chest

Gasping for breath you

claw for your laptop

and write the first poem of the day

all the while cursing your thin willpower

Heart bulges and balloons

trying to free itself through any openings in the body

Perhaps it’s my throat,

the papercut on my index finger

My ears.