I can be your Vastile
In your carefully contrived Bastille
While you can accompany me as my Anax
Lovely as the prefix and the syntax
I live in my own world but I'll gladly live like that with you
A world with two
Is better than one
In the future
When one fleets away
Somebody can keep it one
I think I like it that way
Something deeper than us
Who is really making a fuss?
They just don't know
But I can't blame them.

Slice it up, make it quick
It'll be done with just one flick
Cut it deep
I want it to do more than weep
Cut out the bad
Oops that's all I had
rivers of blood from me pour
Now I'm in pieces on the floor
I just couldn't take it any more!!

I understand I've been gone, I've put a pause in a sense.
But no sense in this one. See I've been sitting too close to my television set recently,
I've contemplated whether or not I'll presume to continue this childish state of mind or if I'm losing vision. When I think of loosing anything, I think of age. With age you lose time. With time comes limits and I'm not sure if my ego ,or the lack of that , may let me presume to keep this comfort. Not mentioning that adult hood is more of a recreation at my disposal,
Yes. A disposal. Maybe the lack of conservation of my childhood led me to believe this. But still I am well aware of my lack of sight. I'm loosing that bigger picture maybe the movers hung it somewhere in the attic when placing me here. Maybe the intricate paintings and statues have the hidden message somewhere in the font.

I have way too many feels
I have way too much emotion
I go deeper and deeper
I dive into your ocean  
I have way too many feels
I can make you mine, taste
your lips of wine
I can make you feel
feelings that are as lovely as you  
~Myriah young~

•

                                                              ­      I dig deeper into your love,

Not knowing the deeper I go,


                                          The nearer I get to hell.





                           © Earl Jane
                             ♥ E.J.C.S.

The transgressions of utter here and nowity
Unbeleivable longing for a collapsing norm
On the altar of self destruction and causal
Reciprocity fluttering on rebirthed dreams

You can sing and love these colorful birds
Vibritang meticulously with rare palpitations
Of greater bodies, which dust is a part of us
Delusional creatures, flying on the grandeur

Non reachable to written words, stellar ink is
Spilled, playing on the shores of ever returning
Waves of transformation; Shapes dance within
Your gaze, telling the story of water coy stillness

Unmovable we move on, unlovable we love hope
Clinging to tree roots and blood veins as clothes
Warm our trembling fragile figures travelling on
And on into the higher realms of transfiguration.