Fire and brimstone I trip and I fall,
Encased in a dreamscape fervent and droll
To fathom loose ladies lost in their shawls.
They billow and flow inside of my head
Like gluttonous mountains encase the dead
To thwart progress in my lucid homestead.
Of all the crescent shaped moons to observe
This one I find to have corrosive curves,
Even in my dreamscape it puffs to learn.