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lips are smokey and nicotined
-up for a night in the dishpit.
the moon leases it's image
for a minute an hour before
stating the lease will expire
sometime between 2040
and 2101. if I'm lucky, I'll be
happy in longevity, or happy
in a 50 yr span which is as
fine as the former. either way
there is a sense of leaking
facets on a Sunday night, a
Ritalin-induced euphoria kept
alive on a caffeine spike. the
bus is always late these days,
which means I am often late
these days, late as daylight,
late as life in fact and as early
as fiction to the evening ball
of predicated tech-gurus riding
hybrid Toyota's in Silicon Valley.
high on a drug called birth and
ingesting like an addict 3 to 5
times a day, I stave off the
ultimate crash.

but eventually, the drug will
**** me.

*it always does.
 Apr 2014 Peter Christian Ness
r
Somedays, the tide only laughs
at the sandbags we put up.
When the ocean of emotion
breaks with waves above our hearts,
we swim or drown.

The swell of current overrides
and riptides pull us down.
Move parallel to shore against the tide
till firmer ground is found.
Swim.

r ~ 4/6/14
 Apr 2014 Peter Christian Ness
r
Now tethered to a lonely space

A place without a warm embrace

T’is hard to break the ties that bind

The rope that hope could ne’er unwind

To want that love once unconfined

Could sail to Rome, or Greece, or Thrace.


Was want that placed within this vase

The scent of rose so to efface

The mournful song of nightingale

A blushed cheek song behind red veil

Now tethered to a lonely space


Where thorn once pricked now left no trace

Wrapped now in sails by lover’s grace

For stars aligned and wind behind

To break the tether in my mind

Dreams not tethered to lonely space.

r ~ 4/4/14
Forever intended to circle but never trace the puckered skin of my aching lips

Untasted you take away from all that is beauty as my mind chooses unwitting ly to coalesce upon the ghost of you

There is no life sufferable without you in it, no cause too great to overcome yet there is a flaw,

For our loves gain double an equal measure must be afforded lost, For there in lives its worth. Oh my dearest love,  as selfish as I pray I need to be, can only reek of compassion thus,

You **** me softly every smile, every soulful look, every sweet word veiled with bitterness

an aquired taste for those addicted to love's misdirection

The outline for my sweet destructon,

And you my favourite design.
I do not claim to represent.
I humbly present my claim.

______(Begin Forwarded Message) ______

3 April 2014
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
From: me@example.com
To: THC@TheHumanCondition.net
RE: present

To whom it may concern:
I have been subscribed
To your service
Involuntarily.
Two springs ago there was an anniversary.
An old friend tempted me
Under the guise of celebration.
That is not to say
There weren’t suspicious omens about;
Oh, what I would give
To have heeded them!
I’m afraid you provide
A service which far surpasses my needs
(Such that it is the only thing I want).
Your free trial led me to believe
Led me
To the promised land
Only to enslave me there.
The fertile grasslands,
The forests, and the island shores
Mock me in my imagination.
Your service has been
deemed surplus.
The benefits
no longer
justify
the cost.

______(End Forwarded Message) ______

I humbly present my claim.
I do not claim to represent.
3 April 2014.

a lyric addressed to & written under the influence of tetrahydrocannabinol. first poem from the "Disclaimer" series.

© 2014 by Lorenzo Soldera. All rights reserved.
 Apr 2014 Peter Christian Ness
r
Another letter today
Just one more step along my way
Check that box and forget about
Whatever tomorrow brings
Even if it's only for a little while
Close my eyes and try to smile
Close my eyes
To the light.

4/3/14
I sat on Facebook in the forest,
birds tweet and retweet.

I check my email again,
birds tweet and retweet.

there's an empty to-go cup
lying in the ditch next to the trail

DOI CHANG emblazoned across
its tubular length, ethically traded
subtitled below.

I whip out my camera, the world around me
solipsist phantasmagoria; the shutter closes
and I don't believe I exist until I see the
photo
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