Moon(shine)

Crisp and clean like the
Moon shine against my face.
My eyes pierce the sky,
the blackened, starry space.
And without a collar or a leash
My thoughts transcend to another place.
I fly with the wings of a bird,
And with snowy, white grace.
In my mouth I have,
A bitter sweet taste.
From the bottle of Moon,
which was against my face.
The supply is sufficient,
There is more in case,
I happen upon unpleasant thoughts,
That I would like to erase.