---

I spit,
vomit,
thick, white smoke,
across endless riffs
in fields and waves.
Not unnerved,
or deterred,
by all it surrounds.
Blue Moon Haze,
clouds my vision
clears my mind,
clears my vision,
clouds my mind.
I reach out,
further than ever before.
To grab brittle sycamore,
feel it break and crumble.
In my grasp, I watch it
fall to pieces.
Winter rolls,
thundering drums bubble
a furious ghostly beat.
Blackened spider,
sits aglow in my hand.
Sending smoke,
shooting up,
with each crunch of the battle-axe.
Sweetly sung,
slowly sung,
primitive trail of moons.
Gaze into long barred wells.
Outer spaces, immense infinities,
the screens simulacrum.
They shall share nothing
of the joys of sex and sin,
boundless pleasures and pains,
of loyal friends and kin.
Blow out the candle light!
I'll tell you what I see:
There is color in the darkness!
Momentary consciousness
in the violent explosion
of a match-heads whisper,
hiss, pop.
Shut out,
all that is inside,
all that is other,
only to hear,
clamors from within.
Only to hear,
foul chatter within.
Blue Moon Haze,
Clouds my visions,
clear my mind.
Clears my visions,
clouds my mind.

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