Concentration via Distillation

Drinking silver and spitting gold
It’s hot in here but I feel cold
Always walking tightropes between
Realities and dreams unseen
At night I sleep and wake to remember
Covered in sweat and grasping embers
Of the narrative that swam inside my head
Like smoke it curls up from my bed
But pencil cannot pin it down
Eyes sting like stars and now I drown
Midnight sorrows in alcohol proof
The best ideas are distilled truth