The Week is a Vampire

I sit alone in the dark, contemplating my fears,
The silence surrounding me is complete,
As the internal fan of the machine I type into hisses,
Warm air fills the room from a heating unit,
Right now, I’m calm, I want for nothing but time and peace,
But it is Sunday at 10pm, and I fear this calm won’t last,
The morning will bring the usual inescapable stresses,
The onslaught of outsiders indifferent to my struggles,
Five days locked into the iron mask of compliance,
I find it more difficult lately to cope within its confines,
For the first time in my life, I feel it constricting,
It takes so much for me now to deliver, there is too much,
There are too many demands, I can feel myself slipping,
I feel like a car whose interior light was left on overnight,
And nobody knows that by morning, I’ll have nothing left,
I feel powerless, all I can do is watch myself fade,
But it takes income to keep that heating unit running,
It takes great toil to keep that machine fan hissing,
The week is a vampire with an insatiable hunger,
And I willingly cast myself into its great maw to survive.