Night Fog

It is a psychedelic prism that deafens
The eyes ; With darkness, each blink
Scattered from grey houses whose light
Does not twinkle, at a distance, stars
do not see, the moon mourns
its shadow, upon this white cloak
Of infinite blackness.

Every dot float on an empty screen and
Are scattered, Cold vapoured breath,
Wanting warmth Exhaled from a distant fog-light
Of a moving shadow, all apparitions black,
All dresses grey: And dancing cars with horns,
Once appear and then gone,the voices fade,
Or, the rain blinds the ears. Time moves
slowly like a drunk on foot, and
Slowly for a world to appear:
Bit by bit- in pieces fit to sense, melody
From one harmonic wave.