Casted shadows upon the faces in the room.
Dim Lights flickering from the smoldering logs.
Smoke lurching from the broken panes of glass.
A thin blanket of smoke hangs in the still air.
Gathered thoughts spitting out like a newspaper press, weird and deranged ideas lighting up like a pinball machine.
A humorous smirk while the tension runs high.
A  conscious realm of telepathic visions.
Slicing through this blanket of smoke with an invisible knife.
Can you hear the cat meowing in the distance?  
It's left unseen in the wicked darkness.
The creatures of the night disappear at the rise of dawn, only to hide until The next blood moon spills again.