One mad night

I shyly agreed, weary as always,
would it's effects be old or new?
What would be the outcome?
And is there anything I should not do?

Much time passed
without a lot to recall,
But before I even realised,
it had hit me like a wall.

The fuzzy picture of untuned TVs
rest at the back of my eyes,
Where the crackling feeling of white noise,
from a broken radio lies.

I talk and talk
but nothing comes out
either way I'll continue,
at much less than a shout.

I step out into the night,
My head seems to float from the floor,
Depth perception from the moon,
I'm sure I've never been HERE before.

The space from lamppost to lamppost
looks like a mile,
As straight roads bend in to the night
Giving me a smile.

Returning home I look to the mirror,
greeted with a fright,
Intake of light is usually the reason,
but tonight that is just not right.

Now I'm sitting in bed
writing this poem about my time,
With my mind still slightly jarred,
I wonder, how can happiness be a crime?

But when tomorrow comes
and my mind has finally cleared,
I'll read this through agin and think
"well...that was fucking weird"