Prism of Prison of Thought

I'm winded but I am standing still
As a gargoyle,
a dreamcatcher,
a totem,
A jaguar warrior
out of breath
recovering in his idolatree.
It makes me strong
even though I know it's wrong.
What else can I do?
I am like the moon:
cold, dark, red, light, and blue.
It's true.
I revolve like one in the chamber and float like a silver vapor in June.
It's in my nature to be transcendent,
repentant, and I intended to expand my mind and yours in this nonsensical rambling that befits my muse.
Either this or a mental noose or that voice that mocks silly goose, silly goose.