up'an'at'em

Wormy and unforgiving is the sloth within.  So enticing are the urges, "sleep and rest my child."  The distracted mind suffers and grows weaker through worry.  It will all get done, but there comes a time when planning for perfetion must cease and one must put ideas into practice.  It's dark in here, and cold enough to hug close a blanket of procrastination to ward off guilt.  Curling up in temporary defeat under a false sense of gain.  Progress is only progress when you move forward.  Lateral acceleration won't get you there.