What do you think of this poem?

This is not very well formulated, but here goes:

Dancing smoke of spark lightning in the globe of a motel

Yellow smoke, bright yellow street lights, low-pressure sodium, the smell of ozone, a white air-bourn substance that dances and streams out of the air-purifier to raw music that only exists in the dissipation of clearing smoke, dark motels, faceless buildings with only one window which flashes and sparks yellow light, lightning on a rainy night with illuminated clouds of deep purple and emerging yellow haze folding and swirling in a white sky of milk and lard, the blinking light in the hazy distance, the white noise in white office buildings, clinics and dirty hospitals, mothballs, robot, generic restaurant in the center of a vast parking lot with yellow lamp-posts and swirling fireflies in yellowish-violet smoke with a smell of ozone and mothballs, with a fat family and a gaunt waitress with a hole in her trancia in the center of her neck which she uses to smoke through; watch as she opens and closes her narrow mouth to get enough air, making it look like she is laughing. Get sick because of the purple and yellow clinical smoke, and vomit in the toilet at the restaurant. Sick because nothing seems real. Cry and in the midst of the crying and vomiting, the toilet, lost in the fog of a dream is as cold as the room that does not know your name. Fade. Fade away. Go into the twilight; into the darkness. The lanterd-light flickers off and on. As the daylight starts to fade into the yellow smoke, I look into the darkness and I can barely see you. Fall into a state of irretrievable loss of consciousness. The fire and wind has been taken from my eyes. My eyes are yellow and dim of haze, but they will turn soft. And it is like, I would be walking and then I would just fall down. Goodbye… help me… help… goodbye