strict regimen

I dined
upon a lunch of conundrums,
even though it was only
breakfast-time.
2 AM
And everywhere else,
the sun shown down at all angles
at once,
or else had descended again
to hell,
to rise again,
once all could be well.
It was becoming fine

as I filled myself up,
I knew the emptiness was good
for something,
at least.
I couldn't tell
what would come as the day
went wild, unleashed
and I want to meet
it with bared teeth
and fists, and sharpened wits.
So I eat conundrums and shit
question marks. And

that's about it.