Tumble out of bed,
as from a drain,

unwholesomely,
an impulsive discharge —
a migration to the next ex-
it.

The heart strays,
restless with gravity,
oddly, a non-Newtonian
punching bag,

while the inviolable head
says don't touch me,
just don't.

No.

The grey skies always match
the threadbare curtains.
#poetry #TashPoetry #writing #TashInTheClouds