Press Release: Now what dream've you dreamt me in? Hands hunting last light. Time flayed across blackened fields in a backstabbing sleight. It's jusst a game. A totalizing game. To stalk and arrest light just to bait in shadows, again. Cruel game, I'd whispered, before I clocked you: assailing senses with skin of sour milk, this morning as with yesterday. Totally eclipsing a once-weaponized grace. Was I not desired at the interval too? Or was I just too late? Forfeited the spangled screescape I'd been vying for; sensing I didn't have that dog down in me, after all; held down, unwrung, ewinged, unmilked? Well, who, anyways, is it all for? Just to lap up the opaque sour and egress with warmwings into a new night.