Almost a Sonnet

Yellow moon through yellow lens seems fitting.

Tainted gold taints all my grand ideals.

Pixels blur my broken resolution.

Dark secrets light way where light truth conceals.

Addiction is my muse, lips red, bed made.

Confusion makes me lose my drive to steer

Towards straighter paths, now distant as the moon,

That lead to headstreams of my new career.

Before lens and filter, yellow and taped,

Is raw reflection of pure yellow sun.

Pure gold gleams bright, no matter how distant.

Fused with the son, tainted plans are undone.

My moon shall rise and settle, East to West;

Twelve hours later it repeats, no rest.