UayNailo

In a land that was spun by the hands of the sun lies a castle's crumbling debris and locked in the walls of ivy-eaten halls are the tales of men once mighty His court once sung of all that was done in the name of good and right and now all that sings is the resounding rings of water dripping from tower height He calls out no more in a voice so grand his valour betrayed by the broken sword in his hand the sun has left now for a more distant land and the king is a broken man.

The heat of breath the beat of heart falters neath the blade life is my steed to shy or lead through the marsh or through the glade The ecstasy of the wine so red pouring over hand the pull in the eyes of a desperate fool dying, trying to stand I have worn the blood of nobles high and whores with lips as red one as foolish as the next both now just as dead. but what pleasure lies in stealing life what meaning in the claim for something only stolen once But to rise, and rise again What meaning have I found? Have I gained what I have taken? What hovels have I built, Compared to the castles I have shaken? I have reaped onl

A sick yellow flourescent glow spills across the concrete walkway. That shade of yellow that tints the eyes of jaundice patients, that smears the dirty tile of gas stations restrooms. It's a color that can make supermodels look ugly. He leans over the railing, sucking on a natural cigarette. It flares. His pacifier. As if the claim of all-natural ingredients will protect him from the mushy dark lumps of tar in his lungs, a mantra against the pink mound of skin swelling and aching on the roof of his mouth. The yellow light falls on a young woman coming from a room behind him, makes her sunkissed skin look mottled and muddy. She watches from th