The Present Blinding Headache

I finished writing last night. Good golly.
Upon review on this reddened dawn
At the kitchen table my paper lay upon
I discovered a man in a gray suit not quite jolly.
Old Sayn't Nietzsche let out a snidely yawn,
And pointing at my essay chuckled,
"Too many words! It's overfull, like dinner pants unbuckled."
I sat down as he without pause continued,
"What's more, you conclude by misquoting Daybreak."
My head hurt and I grabbed my scalp. Annoyed, I blurted,
"So what, you big Ubermensch? You self-refuting corn crake."
He hung his head and felt my feelings,
Our head hurt and we were grumpy,
"Should we move on from those past dealings?"
"As always.", we nodded, squinting in the present brightness, dumbly.