I have heard
everything is a self portrait.
The sound of your laugh
or what sweater you choose
out of the bargain bin.
Your favorite poems,
or the songs you sing
when you think no one is listening.
Your handwriting and
if you dog ear
your favorite book pages.
We would love to think
of ourselves as a mystery,
something one another has to
put together
like a puzzle.
But you do that yourself,
pieces of your identity
your quirks
your habits
are apparent
when you least expect it,
you are the truest you,
in a moment where you don't
even realize it.
You are your own mystery,
and your clues are a give away,
a self portait you paint
for others to admire.

There, somewhere, is a place so familiar, that you've forgotten
and you didn't even know.
In this place is a building, decrepit, with walls well worn,
built with the least experienced of hands.
These hands, now gone, showed a tenderness in their craftsmanship,
a love now forlorn as the walls
Walls held up with the determination of creeping moss
that spreads through the corners of the halls.
Halls so sprawling as to confuse those who dare to come in
and seek the treasures within
These treasures hidden, repressed and no longer precious,
a sentinel to those left behind.
And these treasures you found within these halls
bound by these godforsaken walls
built by those who know, knew, and would never have
Reside in a building beyond all paths
That calls to you and all that you believe
To compel you in, so you'll never leave.

I hate the plays on my weaknesses
It's one thing to be manipulated and another to modify
Becoming mutated
Were we ever truly organic or have we been designed ?
Predestined to these predispositions since the dawn of time
No one wins these types of power plays
and I stray to isolation pondering for days
Can mind overcome these matters?
Because the experts don't seem to believe
we are capable of advancement
without these artificial enhancements
After all they have to practice
It's ****** hidden in plain sight
A quiet killer seizing and thieving life as we sleep
In broad daylight

once upon a time,
there were four kings who began their earthly time.
these men ruled their kingdoms,
and they were fearsome.

one king, king of spades,
had problems with his trades.
he was drowning in debt,
and many of the problems were never met.
he doubted himself,
all of the misery led to his queen to **** herself.
he soon fell ill with a deadly flu,
as he did, more problems grew.
the kingdom was overthrown,
and the king had died all alone.

the king of hearts took over,
with his eyes as green as a clover.
he always shared,
he actually cared.
however he was too loving,
always with different women and cheating.
his wife who was beautiful and charming,
was not very forgiving.
when the king slept,
the queen crept.
she smiled as she plunged the knife into him,
continuously stabbing him for every time he sinned.
the next morning, an astonishing sight was found,
the queen held her husband, blood pooling on the ground.
she smiled as she sang a song to him,
forgiving him for his sins.
she was imprisoned,
and, later, was hanged.

the king of clubs was next,
he was much different than the rest.
he had amazing luck and was very social,
he got along well with the locals.
his business flourished,
he had a lot of courage.
he had tried his luck too much,
the number of enemies he had was more than a bunch.
he turned into the wrong alley,
he was surely folly.
he was assassinated,
by the people he had aggravated.
he was found stripped of his money,
alone in a cold, dark alley.

the last king was the king of diamonds,
who ruled with as much power of a fierce lion.
he was energetic,
he was successful and creative.
he passed judgement harshly on crime,
he grew wiser and wiser with time.
he gained rewards,
he was skilled with a sword.
however his imagination was far too great,
he would always see things everywhere, even beyond the gates.
he disappeared one day,
a search party began to search for several days.
finally on the 4th day, they found him,
leaning against a tree limb.
he had carved out his face and stabbed his eyes,
words on his chest said "the tree lies."
they found many cravings upon the trees,
with a lot of crazy ramblings.

soon the kingdom was left in pieces,
they all died from several different diseases.
the kings died several different ways,
caused by fate's cruel heartless games.

I
    am
           unbearable.
You're
           un-
                 shutupable.
That's
           un-
                 believeable.
You're throwing
                             "You're
                                           un-
                                                  reliable".
­Sorry that it happened to you dear.
We shouldn't have gone this way
"We weren't together" you say.
Yeah, I'd comfort myself
                                           like this
                                                          from where you stay.
"Sorry for betrayal
                                 if that's what you wanna hear"
"Fine,
              we both know
                                         you'll pay"

"Happy Birthday dear..."

I start half way through the bent jingle which became more
Common by chanting all the words. That awkward sense
Of mutual buddies forgetting the name of the cocky boy
Blowing out the wax that burns through the mixture raw.
Faces envious of this attention seeker, while sat on a fence
Forcing that smile. The age he can be excused by his toy.

As one turns arrogant adolescent, the other takes childish
Place on the cute thrown. Not today, the world can wait,
But not for long as time shifts further down many graves.
The countdown begins when leaves grow onto the mildest
Weather that will warm the old cold hearts at such a rate.
Not all fret, soon more birthdays will join while kids crave.

The teen’s decision isn't fate or destiny, it's just how they
Live a life purely between lines of crack. To be so rotten
Is a crime in any mature life. Thank God they are care free.
How soon will they learn to care for the gift that they pray
And how it differs from the cracks that will be forgotten.
Shame for us not to embrace time. Each one pushed into

The ground swept away by the blink of old men's eyes.
Devastation rid across lands by generations over turned.
Look out your window; see the sky break, fall into hot ash,
Burning pretty skin which brought tragedy to all those fines.
In the bowls of hell the scent grew strong. Women yearned,
They felt so careful not casting felony by using other cash,

Knowing full well that it was their fault for this mad panic.
Think how the boy's maternal role must be copying with all
The accidents around her. Fingers pouring out all the blood
Of a false economy, channelling some wizards dying magic.
The virus spreading across all borders with no place to fall.
The conspiracies becoming ridiculous, dragged thru mud.

"Judgement Day draws nearer, who will blame the ******"

I hate myself for doing it
crawling back to you