mornings

[Blunt]

Why does it hurt so much? Or better – why does it linger,
Fermenting between the folds of my consciousness, resurrecting.
I wake up, slowly,
slowly to the unforgiving glare of a new day.
and it’s not just my shoulders
that feel discomfort
because the aircon has been turned too low
and there’s no hiding from it in my small room.
I stumble from my bed, where my body is sprawled
Diagonally. Because I’m Russian and I like to expropriate
all the spaces
that had once been yours.

While reading I thought I would really like to relate more. The use of specifics doesn't help. Everyone feels like their rooms could be bigger, but not everyone's shoulders hurt in the morning. Mine is my back. - So if it's a poem about mornings, everyones, it would really hit home if it were about everyone's.

But then you get to the end, and it's really about you and a russian joke. It would be cool to lead up to that line more. Hint at how you're sprawled across the bed earlier. keep the tone similar to the end, and surprise the reader with the punchline.