It's All About You

You’ve been going for at least an hour now

and to be honest I am struggling:

 

I've only got one sock on and my leg’s gone dead,

my eye mask is still balanced on my head,

last night’s make up is everywhere

and I never did brush my teeth…

 

A little dune of sleep to remove,

a school trip of spots to squeeze,

a pubey chin hair to pluck

and an as yet unidentified odour

to identify.

 

There’s grey lumpy porridge to make and devour,

keys to be found and PUT IN A SAFE PLACE
and at some point I should have a shower.

Oh shit, and a bathroom light to fix,

choice between: pitch black and private

or the whole street seeing my pasty bits.

 

I’ve needed to wee for 20 minutes now

and my bowels are plotting a move against me.

I literally have BIGGER SHIT TO DEAL WITH!

My stifled yawns and farts are building up

so what exactly 

is it about me

that screams “I give a fuck”?!

 

And I haven’t managed a bra yet

(my nipples are more alert than I am).

I might even indulge in a fresh pair of pants…

…might.

 

God I really have to do something 

about the way I smell.

There’s a whole life time of 

procrastination to catch up on!

 

There’s a bus to run for 

(and inevitably miss),

a fare to scrape together,

a snot-sniffing student to endure,

a dribble of rain to be 

inexplicably soaked by.

And I will, of course,

arrive unacceptably late.

 

But you’re still yapping away…

Utter nonsense!

Complete gibberish!

It boggles the mind.

Not today, no thank you.

I.don’t.have.the.time.