Bleary and sore, I haul myself from bed,
My body moving automatically
Receiving little guidance from my head,
Ablutions thus performed erratically–

My contact lenses weary eyes refuse,
So spectacles elucidate the sight
Of undereyes as purple as a bruise;
A confirmation of a restless night.

As wakefulness begins its penetration
Of murky memory, I realize
I cannot muster self-recrimination
For what my growing smugness does imply.

Though thorough sleep my brain has been denied,
The body claims itself most satisfied.