By Connor McQueen
I slip further and further into the ether.
You become a faint ghost, a foggy mist.
Everything’s a vague hazy smoke
You are a whisper, a soft hiss comes from your mouth which is
Dry ice begins to swell and form your neck and torso
Cigarette smoke sways methodically, whipping into strands of hair.
You are omnipresent and nowhere to be found.
Fleeting yet encapsulating.