Drips.

Another scent with just a few drips
Each trigger anew the character slips

Paint a picture as if in a mirror
The colors: portrayal of who is the seer

Searching for where the mind can be quiet
Thoughts always pushing me to fight it

Ever present, expectations tug
Asking me to pull the plug
And let flow some unfound mystery
Some wonder I know I cannot see

Crawling for the secret switch
Only to find an infrequent twitch
The power. One hour.
No hitch.
Glitch.

More drips of color have joined, but hit the mirror
Now to be viewed by every seer.