A Procrastinator's Regret

Hunched here upon the toilet seat I dwell
Why nothing in my life has come out well—
The sour supposition in position
That I hold in strain and repetition.

My messy, in-last-minute rushes—
While in tandem, wrinkled, my face flushes—
They have me lose my grip, but let not ease
A single useful deed the world would seize.