So I come round’ your way.  Wondering if I can “force” some inspiration, if such a thing can be done?  Twisting that delicate fabric of the time-space continuum.  Held above my gaping maw, letting the precious drops fall to my tongue.  Sweet, slow, and deliberate.

Savor this.

These pieces of aether.

Mothers milk from a full swollen breast, shoved in my mouth, and commanded to suck.  Drinking my fill.

I’ll take what I want.
And, leave the rest.

Until my need to feed, brings me back your way.