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.