After some sleep
and some forgetting
I awake
needing to go
try to descend
but cannot lift my right leg
weighs a tonne
grown in size
gloomily all black

Oh no I scream
the Borg have gotten me
resistance is futile
grab my new spindly
metal legs
stumble off in the dark
like an ineffective automaton
groaning with every step
business completed
I make a promise to myself

Tonight out comes
the Guzunder
plastic bucket of course
unlike the elegant porcelain
Grandma had
some other poor sod
will have to empty it
onto the lemon tree

All the result
of a fall from grace
down the back steps
leaving a broken Fibula
at least my fears
of the Borg are allayed
And I will resist!

Come on 2020
is that all that
you intend to throw at me?