I returned back to the same home I used to know,
Oh boy, it feels familiar but I'm not so sure if it's good thing.
My first few steps back inside I heard some creaks on the floor in a silent room filled with dust on some brand new furniture
I mean, how is that even possible?
I take a few steps forward as the door behind me closes..
"is this the right choice?"
Pictures on the frames take so little amount of space in the house but somehow they constantly remind me of the past..
Of what this house used to be.
So I tore them off.
I tore them all off the walls so that all you can see is the clear empty walls, looking cleaner and more innocent with a hole where the nail used to be.
I'm not sure if it even looks better.
But I shoved the frames in a box, beneath my bed..
So why is it every time I take a stroll in the house it smells the same, and every time I sleep at night, I feel something hiding under my bed..
I mean, let's be more direct.
You were my home.
But I don't know who you even are anymore...
Cause every time I want to smile, I hear the picture frames knocking on my door, telling me I shouldn't.
Every time I think of coming home, I stop by every store just to make sure I have all the different frames so I can hide that nasty hole on the wall that the nail left behind..
But every time I did that, I couldn't tell if I was redesigning my home or lying to myself.
Tell me, what makes this one so different?
Is it a even a second chance.. or the seventh chance?
The ghosts of you don't creep behind me, it's the knives on my back and I can't tell..
Tell me, are they still there?
Or am I reminiscing about the past, feeling on the scars that I can't see, hoping one day I'm able to study every curve and every mark of where I went wrong that caused me to carry them for the rest of my life..
I mean tell me, because if I can't trace my steps back to the time I've twisted the door **** and walked right in without studying the room or listening to these same empty walls.. would I still be alive?
Or would you have killed me with the same knives that's already deeply rooted into my spine..
you say you love me but it sounds the same.
****! That ******* knocking is getting louder, it won't leave me alone.

follow me
if you can
thru tortured paths
and wintered lands
where the sun is lost
the moon unknown
beyond this dark
encroaching gloam

follow me
if you dare
where voices speak
in whispered layers
of external wars
undeclared
where twisting turning
bodies play
on silken sails
on captured waves

follow me
if you would know
where silver rivers
sometimes flow
and flying angels
falling lay
sweetly laughing
in their gentle way

follow me
if you wish
and play in childhood's
autumn mist
where paper dragons
fill the air
and broken hearts
still beating share
a love for passion's
written snare

follow me
and I will show
how wounded heart
now mended grows
where many paths
once hidden glow
and light the way
to where I go


.
http://oi61.tinypic.com/dc573k.jpg
.
.

I carve open
The sealed door of my heart
And with one breath
I breathe back to life an archaic machine
That has hidden itself away from the world
Lost
Forgotten
In the caverns of myself
But like all old parts
The mechanisms slowly
But surely
Crank back to life
It has been ages since its last heartbeat

My heart is worn down
And a little bit broken
And I have never felt as exposed
As I do now
But I am not afraid to wear it proudly

•
I left a trail of blood from my bleeding heart,
Praying that you will follow & mend me,
But the depth of my aching overflow & my river of tears erase it,
Now I am left with a track to my death,
A death of utmost throe, lonesomeness & dejection.


© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.

Rain drops are falling,
They don't make a sound,
They bury their way,
Deep into the ground.

Where sick seeds lay furled,
And no one can see,
The beginning of sprouts,
That will form the tree.

Where butterflies flutter,
In a forgotten place,
And inside the caverns,
A storm you must face.

But for now more silence,
The quiet is your friend,
To tear you apart,
Or to help you to mend.