Sip Shadows

wraiths, figures of mist, four dimensional misfits of used to be dancing reruns of former frenzies, hung in timeless movements of spaced out incoherency like milk spotted eyeglasses still running wetly such are the thoughts of a freaked out old poet searching for answers in half empty mixes of potions divining the swirling twirling juxtaposition of several liquids creating a picture of wraithlike motions To be swallowed as quickly as evening twilight allows Magical mixtures erasing the moments relaxing the driving Emotional tide causing and pausing the need to decide Revealing a passenger on for the ride