Living is sleeping

I am much of a machine that knows no days
Much to my dismay, the night never seems to go away
I no longer operate on a normal timezone
Giving myself to the night
Revising the obscure particles one by one
I need nothing, as all I need is at arms reach
This room is my Mecca
Some sort of a personal sacred ground
Where the irony of my worldly knowledge is honed from the isolation of these four White Walls.
Have I achieved an altered reality lifestyle that traps my being
Or am I just manic in my thinking