measure time as the milk expires, wild retires to idle some final fidelity usurping fevered dreams, all that what might come to be. eroded stanchions of clingy phantoms resembling not the momentary instance, but the habitual hunger for the always out of reach. oh! the mundane haze, the hypnotic stare, that gaze, upon the substantial stage, the that which stands in the way. to the orbits, the torrents- to the progress unfazed of all intentions, it goes on, despite retention to all that once was, the never seen approaching, the breach and subsequent groping, all that hoping, for a new yet again.