Sleepy Mornings

I awake with borrowed time from snoozed alarms,
Duvet awry and sheet entangled with arms.
Each pillow I throw with contempt at the floor
bitterly wishing that I could have slept more.

Zombie-like I rise from my tomb of a bed
with a nest of a bun askew on my head
and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand
I vault out of bed trying my best to stand.

And I do, for a minute, ‘till my knees crumple;
I lay on the floor with pyjamas all rumpled.
With pillows on the floor, I’m tempted by rest,
but I pull myself up and start to get dressed.

With my wardrobe wide open and clothes, all strewn,
I dig through the piles pervading my room.
After some time, a top and trousers are found
amassed from the various heaps on the ground.

Makeup applied with shaky hands weary,
eye’s uncovered bags making them bleary.
Hair and teeth brushed and face glitter adorned
I stuff my bag full whilst stifling yawns.

Every morning I do the same;
Wake up and want to sleep again
While at night I sit and postulate
Why can’t humans hibernate?