Sober...?

There was a lot of strangeness in my slumber:

I found myself among the clouds, but they were at my level. This was the fog of a night full of concern. It was in this discord that I was to find my way. An eerie light from below kissed the ground. A haunting trail was uncovered in this dense blanket of moisture. I followed it, well aware that this light may not be as kind as perceived. With it I saw my surroundings: a bog, filled with a distorting magic. This was the beauty of a deceitful Nature; the charm of lucidity.

They sway and scurry, a dance of their thoughtless convictions, merely saving their faces. What else could make them distinguishable? Their claws gripping at a reality that isn't theirs to mold? This was my tailor-made experience, customized to fit the sleeves of a clenched fist and twisted fingers. My influence on this place makes my cerebral flakes become apparent. Like the sun at dawn, I've kissed everything on this horizon, even if it's been relinquished to a foggy rendition.

Feeble koalas, putting themselves at the mercy of crocodiles, who welcomed them with their open-toothed grins, inviting but a forewarning of their pending doom. I had to traverse through this maze of open doors and murky water to find my way. It would not be those marsupial exits, but some other way. So I took to the trees to avoid a jagged fate. It was there I looked into the fog to find a light, my beacon.

Eyes glaring as i planned my next move. To be the king of the highway. The nocturnal condensation made this path cumbersome and indistinguishable. The sound of hands clapping seem to be the only noise in this night. So I follow it's rhythm further into the night. The adjoining voice implies the validity of this route.

"Queen of the Highway"

-coming down, coming down, coming down. Spinning round, spinning round, spinning round...-