Intoxicant dreams, sewn into my shadow, wrap blossoms of wakefulness in dainty nibbles. Buds of taste wrapped within velvet coats; memories of nocturnal affairs, harness sense with each lip licked -- I taste you still; yet, phantasms cannot compare to substance and your substance leashes me into withdrawal; I must have more – if I were canine or feline I would already be dead; therefore, with my immunity I unwrap you, let you melt under my preen, a sneak of paw into a Cheshire maw, a delicious appetiser becomes a feast, pounce after pounce – the path to Ananda rises with dawn.