The Insomniac (H-to-O, "I", poem by Screech)

and here's the second poem readers!
I had internet issues today, otherwise I would've posted it in the morning itself, nevertheless, the insomniac seems pretty straightforward when you hear the name, the poem itself is not exactly so.
I feel it's definitely one of my best works so far, so read on and enjoy!

"The Insomniac"

Looking out the window he sees,

a sky filled just with stars.

Darkness has taken over his world,

He waits for the moon to talk.

Winter nights have made him more cold,

The fire is all but gone.

Dreams with his open eyes,

The ceiling holds his art.

A yearning that just won't go away,

His eyes look for his heart.

He lies waiting for his sleep,

His insomnia has no cure,

He longs for those sweet, sweet dreams,

His hell has no exit door.

Waiting for a knock on the door,

He makes an excuse to wake.

Memories of his forgotten lore,

Slowly return to ease the ache.

Silence whispers in his ears,

As he dreams with open eyes,

Of what he could and would have done,

If only his will had survived.

Waiting for the crimson to break through,

His soul wanders in the night.

The darkness at times feels so true,

Like the black that seems so bright.

He paints his dreams in the air,

And his breath erases it all away.

He longs for a sweet. sweet voice,

As the wind makes it all decay.

A new day ends when the sun sets again,

The people keep asking him to live in yesterday,

His sanity is what drives them insane,

A different truth is just lies for the mundane.

The venom of words hangs in the air,

Burning hot like the light of Altair,

Mocking away at his castles in the air,

Winding his thoughts like heaven's stair.

His eyes close long before the sunrise,

His thoughts quiet down as the sky goes cerise.

Sleep envelops him at the end of the night,

The insomniac rests as the world runs outside.

Cheers... ScreechDrummer