Moonless Delusions

[QDeathstar]

In a moonless winter night, it starts off ok. I can get into to this
Standing against a weathered wall, weathered wall is ok, but standing against is boring.  I like when poems dedicate their words toward creating a consistent mood, i dont think this poem does that.
Below a lonely street lamp's light,poetry is more than alliteration.
I watched, transfixed, why are you transfixed, are you transfixed so life can be mixed?
Shades of life being mixed,
On that dimly lit street, why did you switch point of view here? you've disconnected yourself from the street. Your standing on the street, not that street
As if it were a canvas,
On which my thoughts were painting, this is needlessly wordy. Also, the sentence doesnt make any sene. "I watched shades of life being mixed on that dimly lit street, as if it were a canvas????  As if what was a canvas?
Their art of madness, again, who is their?
With brushes of memories, wishes and fears. i like this idea, i think you could expand upon it
In that moonless winter night, i think that this could be a new stanza
Standing against a weathered wall,
The shapes I painted with my thoughts,
Saw them slowly coming to life, ? this is awkward, i think i know what your trying to say, but it doesn't add anything to the poem to be grammatically incorrect here. "my thoughts painted shapes against the wall, which slowly came to life and began to crawl"
Below that lonely street lamp's light,
And I stood watching, transfixed,
With Reality, illusions being mixed, why is reality capitalized? also, i think illusion is a poor word choice.
On that dimly lit street,
That had now turned into a stage,
Where a ghostly opera, was being played, how did we get here?
By shadows, of spirits strayed,
Shadows familiar, but somewhat alien,
Each from a different dimension,
Floating and dancing in an unearthly fashion,
In uncanny tones they spoke and sang,
Teasing and negating each other,
Though to my ears didn't reach their voices,
But they did, to my mind
Or perhaps it was the source itself,
Of all this artful madness,
Which went on rising,
Till the last moment,
Of that lonely winter night.
As with the first ray of sun,
The stage disappeared,
Behind curtains of reality,
I walked to seek in my world of light,
Some traces of truth and sanity.

hopefully i gave you a few things to consider....