The battlefield is a pasture, a desert, an Escher-esque catacomb of cosmic proportion...
It is a scribble, a stick body
With a hollow circle head...
It is a block of Earth, creating life with the dead.

Ink is the blood running; scattering non-uniformly
Across symmetrical horizons
And vertical skewed faces,
Asking for the emotion you're feeling.

A loaded glue gun fires
Building muscle and cartilage
Sealing wooden bones and providing the foundation
Of an artist born...
Hair of yarn
Marbled tooth and nail
Skin of clay.

I am a weapon...
A heart of paper folds and a mind untold
Written in BOLD.

I looked in the mirror today
And saw three of me
Who I was, who I am, and who I wanted to be

I brushed a stranger's hair and teeth
Until my brain started turning and realized
It
                               was
                                                             ­     me.

Who I was told who I am to be who I wanted to be
Without a reason or a plan and who I am is who I am
Until the seconds keep fleeting me

There isn't room in here for the three of me
Two visions showing one a life of who I'm supposed to be...
Did you see, do I see, will I see that I'm free to make the choices
That define my time?

My past is a mime etched in my image mimicking my future untold.
Will I be fine, or will I fold?

There isn't room in here for the three of me
Who I was, who I am, and who I wanted to be.

I always bet my joy on tomorrow
Sold myself on dreams that I will follow
Days and nights come and go
Starting high and ending low

Setting goals that I didn't know
All the tools with nothing to show
Passing fails and failed passes
I saw myself through rose colored glasses

Sat and wasted as the world kept turning
Everyone around me were bodies burning
I was weak and I didn't know
How to sew the seeds and let myself grow

I learned through pain to shed my sorrow
To look in the mirror and your eyes are hollow
You have a choice within that moment;
Light a spark, or let the darkness hold it

Choose the gift that keeps on giving
The one that changes day to day living
To be humble and not be broken
Lift up for tomorrow hoping

You wake up and keep recieving
The spirits fill and has all believing
That I'm not leaving;
I'm not giving in.

What is your call to arms?
Are you the warrior waiting at the gate-
Ready and willing to fight the battle
You'll continue through Valhalla?

Or perhaps you are the kitten-
Looking up in wonder; curious-
So you claw your way up denim towers
And roar upon shoulders for milk?

Whatever your case, maybe lost in the crowd-
One without a face,
You feel all your work is gone in one bad day
Without a trace-

So you lie there in bed with the voices in your head
Screaming over and over again that you're wrong-
That you're just like the others who will never be strong-
Crooning your swan song, begging you to sing along...

You cry.
You fight.
You scream right back and tell them you are right-
You are unique and not with the throng-
Rise on up; the day is yours and long.

Anchored forty leagues below
In a three sixty cascaded undertow
I heed the call of Poseidon
With this last ditch gasp mistaken for air
While wishing for gills
To appreciate your universal power

But alas,
I am buried in my folly amongst these titans,
Worshipped,
War shipped and wrecked,
A lifetime of love, education, hate, companionship
Reduced to ******* chum!

The kraken is not so cruel-
It's just doing its job,
To reclaim all that got lost
And paid his toll to leave.

Three stories tall, and a city block wide
I created this castle with no place to hide
"The World's Fair Hotel", you might know it well
Located in Englewood, my own private Hell.

I hired and fired through its construction
To fully ensure only I knew its power of destruction.

Once it was built, I hired employees
Female and blonde, my favorites of playthings
Under conditions of insurance policies
Of which I would pay (but I was also the beneficiary)

Soundproof suites so sweet to my ears
With gas lines to asphyxiate you - Drowning in fears
Or my secret hanging chamber
And lime pits to change you from human to stranger

I took pride in stripping you to bone and sold you to medical schools, made professors seem fools, all of you dead and alive at my disposal

All in all, 200 was the proposal, I confessed to 27 and later to 2...my dying wish is that I could have done it to you.

O, to be in algae lined pond
Where grass is lush-
And o'er the puddles, I row betwixt
The worlds of lungs and gills.

No worry if my vessel were to spring a leak;
She floats uneasy like a lily pad that's had
Too much to drink;
And soon shall I too.

My sweetest lady loch, she is no monster-
She is kind to me with chilled embrace
As I wade below her feet.

If only my dreams could project
Her sweetest majesties divined;
She is good to the last drop-
Dining with perch, I smile
And wave good night.