Analysis of Woke Up In The Wrong Galaxy

Hands don't conform to bone hieroglyphics,
of morning's keyboard, like an alien interface.
Walked out of nighttime's myopic of derelicts,
anti-heroes of a dime-store sci-fi space race.

Time machine dilation, in rude skew n' abort,
not to speak of sharp pain, behind the eyes.
Head feels twice too big, waiting to tele-port,
or to be striking twelve between blinking 'tries'.

Dizzy with 'crop circle' dreams, puzzle-choke,
feeling like your body was scetched on the fly.
Or assembled from spare parts, practical joke,
wondering, if this is how it feels about to die.

It's really spiffy cryptic good morning to you all,
hands poised frozen, head looking left to right.
Could have had a 'stroke' or taken a 'sleep fall',
be vigilant, watch for a clue in this 'sh*t' I write!