XIX cleaning

I really really need to clean my room,
It isn't even funny anymore,
There is a swirling clothes vortex of doom,
Upon the place that used to be my floor.
My closet's disemboweled cross the rug,
A hurricane of gore around my bed,
No longer can I simply pout and shrug,
And leave it for tomorrow's work instead.
The skeletons of many cups of tea,
Are scattered round the dresser and nightstand,
It's quite a macabre spectacle to see,
If you jump up, there's no safe place to land.
     I'll take my fresh stubbed toe up as a warning,
    And straightway move to conquer! In the morning.