Carpe Noctum

Is it ever daylight?
Despite my erratic sleep
Patterns. At least I make note
I feel the onset of
A headache when finally
I come across the veiled sun
Behind the skyward blanket.
I've become a man of the night
In these recent years,
As my dreams are haunted
By things worse than demons,
Like my failures and lost loves.
So instead I orchestrate
My own imagined worlds
Where the blank page
Is my world to be,
My words the tool I sculpt with
And where I surely have more
Than 7 days in which to finish.