Opiate of the Sky

I can see through my eyelids, lies the color of indigo- worn on the sleeves of the world. And when they crawl through lips I will know. I can melt the world into ink with heat- from the sun that swallows indigo. And we can either hold our breath, or breathe the color of violet like air. The answer should be clear as starlight sprinkled over blackened sky. And I- am the opal moon, emperor of peach strained dusk You don't know what I can do.