Morning aches

Something akin to an ant trying to manoeuvre itself out a set jelly.
I mirror its movements, when I get out of bed in the morning.
The bed, a thick mattress of springs and like suddenly morphs into a gelatinous sludge, glutinous and quicksand like, an enmeshment of the most delicious proportions and I find myself sinking deep into its welcoming cling.
Like a vicious adhesive I'm a helpless fly stuck in a cobweb, only willing.
The mattress won't let go of me. Its invisible fangs driving deep into my back, dissolving my flesh into its own. I want to leave but my mind tenaciously plucks out each thought of escape.
My feet are disappearing, my eyes are giving into the warm sensation of thin duvet folded on my limbs, the foaming warmth of the bed surges to sink my body and I feel the mornings chill a hostile host, unready to receive the guests, why then, should I set my foot into this inimical land of unsympathetic day? Why then should I let go of my beloved almost syrupy and resin like bed that steadily devours me?
I contemplate these thoughts, hoping for time to pause just a small while, it's only just dawn and the bed is warm, let me just hide in its nook for a while, a moment, a second, a fraction of a fleeting blink..ah! But no, because..ugh.