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The drifting dream bound on a satiated sea
It can feel you letting go, if you wanted to
Into the ether I will walk with you
Just release that grasp on reality and come
into the cosmos and we'll be unified
Abstraction at best is the offer
Pull away and become everything
Spend the night; float away and be...
 Jan 2014 Peter Christian Ness
r
Sitting alone staring out the window at the frozen air and slate colored sky with every inch of the desk covered in stacks of paper like strata of life.  Book shelves impossibly arranged so that no one would ever decipher  the code of the last 30 years.  Wondering
what happened, but knowing it didn’t just happen.  It was the long road taken to this place where the bland stale toast
sameness of life had become boring  and without sweetness or flavor. All of those years now behind and the
memories all that are left to mock.  What to do now, hotshot?  Now that this is all that has been
accomplished.  All of this and nothing.  Which drawer did you hide the bottle from
yourself in?  Seems so long ago, but was really not given how many years it
kept you company. Let’s explore those drawers and see what can
be salvaged of the past.  Let us toast you in memoriam…

r ~ 24Jan14
Apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), and A.H.H.
And thanks to Diane whose Banner photo knocked this one loose.
All I wanted was to sleep with you—
*(In both senses of the saying)
In nature, as in civilised homes, there is evidence of conformity
      That only significant study would make apparent,
      but his studies were suspicious and neighbours would talk

The nose is bleeding and his pretty song is skipping
on the jukebox by the bathroom door
Anhedonia now is constant, the pathos inherent
As their mother went missing years ago
While they read Proust by the window,
and the day was drawing closed
Their father was sick with Absinthe shakes
whilst little duck starved in the pond behind the house

On disagreeable days,
profound introspection
becomes not more than
subversive ******-babble
and the words he speaks
are dust on the tongue
a bother and little more

Purported to be perpetually depressed, his cool demeanor left an impression
on his sister, as she would gaze upwards at his face, displaying world-weariness
So Weltschmerz they called him and his cool was palpable
but only her smile could bring colour to his fa-
*Writer grew disillusioned with this particular piece and decided to commit a literary suicide
Inhale the world before the plunge
Collect who I am and what we've done
A steady hand and a shaking mind
With moral answers in my loaded gun

Our lies and clothes are folded in the corner
Kneel **** in the dust where our lives meet
Last and wilted lines hang in the air
While vows rot at our feet

Cherish the ****** dirt in your hands
Forget the broken pasts beyond the silk facade
This is it, your back's against the bricks
Drag your final smoke out and find your god

Exhale at peace and squeeze the trigger
You know nothing but I watch it all
Everything we had hits the ground except
The roses left behind you on the wall
Inspired by every song on the album "An Awesome Wave" by Alt J
little drug fiend
described as the girl
who took shrooms
every weekend and
tried to find
herself

(but never could)
and concerns aren't warranted
Your heart is an empty semi-circle
Half-filled by wet sand bags
Jagged edges because I am concrete
and concrete does not leave smoothly.

Concrete cracks but cannot slip between your fingers.
She is green, you are bitter, and I am grey.

Written about Z.
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