Lost between words, buried by thoughts. Tonight the distiller is dripping moonshine I drown my sorrows in. The smoke of ****** marijuana mixed with tobacco takes over the gallery. A handful of souls still awake. One thing in common we all have, the dream of freedom. Killers, robbers, dealers, here one is no different than the next. All government merchandise. With the late hours of the night comes the silence. As silence takes over, the hypnotic sound of the moonshine dripping from the distiller take one’s thoughts on a journey deep inside the mind. Little by little the bottle fills up as the mind empties. It is time the ghosts visit. Time to leave this place with them. Cruising the known world in my mind. To be with the loved ones, at least on my imagination. They seem to show up in waves. She is usually the first one. We talk, we dance, take long walks, but is never enough. There is so much to know about her still. Then come the friends, family. Eventually some actual ghosts even. Slowly the moonshine and the writing give place to sleep. The chance of meeting her in my dreams, moonshine inebriated.