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You are the moon,
and I am Terra,
watching you pirouette
around me.

Your presence, even from
such a distance, causes
rising tides, their waves
shaping my surface.

Thank you, stranger,
for all you do for me.
Thank you to all those who unknowingly had a profoundly positive effect on my life. I love you all.
I prefer to take my leave before the magic does.
 Dec 2014 Petal pie
Austin Heath
Lets not **** around anymore; you feel pain.
You have to learn to be alone.
You're weak.
It takes practice.

I've invested a lot of time in trying to make an us
out of a me. I am so very empty.
After a year, I'm still a stranger in your home.
You distance yourself, and next
yeah you'll run.

I ******* see it.
Future? Me?
Nobody stays for this.
Nobody wants this.
Mood swings, erratic behavior,
late nights, crying, crying,
thoughts of suicide,
dependency,
nobody
wants
this.

Nobody wants me.

Two days ago you broke down at 12am
in the aisles of the supermarket, crying.
Swore every set of headlights that danced
by you was another set of eyes to
see you through to nothing.

Spent the next night awake and laughing,
quiet as a mouse,
except the repetitive cackle
and spite for all things.
You lost your mind.
You're scared kid.

Scared of losing.
Tired of losing.
Always braced for losing,
too stiff to just take the next step.
Haunted by your own shadow.

Nobody wants an insane person.
A walking corpse.
A MANIC.
A ****-up.
A dead-beat.

Austin Heath.
They come looking for you sometimes,
but the reality is so much more terrible.
The reality is so much less than mediocre.
No one cares.
 Dec 2014 Petal pie
Austin Heath
Chaotic ***** lover,
skin made of cyanide
a princess made of man.

I get anxious at silence and wait.
How can you love someone you
give so little effort too.
Minimal.
Garbage.

I don't hear whats so beautiful anymore,
so I revel in the filth that I've become.
Shitlord.
Taking time to cough out
fragments of clockwork,
carrying cracked lips that
sway in a breeze
beat on a broken ankle.

Are you somewhere lost at sea?
Are you riding on a storm?
Do you feel lonely when you
turn over and there's another
cold spot in the bed?

I don't expect much anymore.
I want to sit in muttering silence and enjoy
the quiet in my head.
[where]
You aren't real to me.

I relish the chance to yell you into something small;
a field mouse or the belly of a great monster.

Love is tearing me into ribbons,
but with care, they become banners and streamers
for a parade held in honor for a martyr
who hasn't died yet.
The reality is smeared into the genes.

Downgrade in technology.
Lost in your own eyes.
Aggravated.
Always paranoid.

Sleep in for
a couple months.
 Dec 2014 Petal pie
Jack
~


Painting a picture of porcupines playing
Pincushions out in the field
Purple and pink for this playful perception
Plans of their purpose revealed

Painful endeavors of pacified pranksters
Presenting a pie at their place
Pecan or pumpkin, pickle, pineapple
Pieces are smeared on their face

Putting the paint on some powder puff paper
Pleasure in each stroke is plied
Pausing to peer at the porcupines playing
Prancing in pansies they hide

Puzzling problems with pretzels and peanuts
Posturing people to prove
Pistachio perfume in prime presentation
Preaches that peaches will move

Polishing pastels on pre-printed pages
Prized the possessions we seek
Paisley the plumes of a peacocks posterior
Portraits now come take a peek

Pampering piccolos play the piano
Pure as a pelican’s prayer
Picking a parcel of plum flavored pudding
Poetic prose fills the air

Pleats in my pants shout in proud proclamation
Puddle my pores they perspire
Poodles on playgrounds prevent prosecution
Plotting my hearts pure desire

Passion precedes every past tense of parting
Piled with a presence so true
Painting a picture while purposely dreaming
Promising my love to you
Ok, just having a little fun and I have to P.   :)
you play God
  manipulating variables
     eliminating constants
   making a mess of simple equations

paper floods with ink
  -mistakes that will eventually lead to a solution
but it's the journey that matters,
                                                        ­ right?
the reminder of why you hate math...
*it makes too much sense to comprehend
 Dec 2014 Petal pie
Jack
~

Destined of the soft parade
Along the dotted line
Whispering amongst the shade
In just the nick of time

Street lights sway upon the wind
A course to find the foe
Shouting but to catch my breath
Of songs now sung below

Call me names now if you like
For sticks and stones don’t care
Left becomes the new found right
If you are going there

I will fight until the death
As armies tend their knives
Sorted comes my honored breath
In terms to realize

Spit between your crooked teeth
And laugh a hearty laugh
Practicing what I do preach
Behold the aftermath

When your feet do stand in mud
So filled with blood of red
Falling with a caustic thud
As everyone is dead

Still you question what is this
Your eyes they scan the scene
Through the pages you do flip
Your worthless magazine

I will rise up through the flame
Amidst the trumpets blare
Wearing not an ounce of shame
For eyes that blindly share

For you see I hold the pen
These verses that I write
Flow from deep within my mind
As I can’t sleep this night

Always I will wear the grin
Of this melodic time
For my battles I will win
Right here inside my rhyme

So bring your tanks, your weapons too
For I will stand this ground
As my cheers will ring on through
In echoes of my sound

Wave your flags and banners high
Proclaim this holiday
As I sneak this poem by
For you to read today
Just messing with rhymes...  :)
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