There is not a day I don't hear your words, taste the essence of your soul. Watch your heart pump ink through through your mind and paint pictures on your skin. Not a day passes by when god envys the artist under his sky. How they simplify the storms and count colors in the sand. You speak in rhymes and riddles true, music flows beneath you. And not a day passes by when I don't think "your so lovely I could die."

Clouded eyes lie broken down. Bloodied broken is the crown, the princess hanged, the prince to blame. Even is the grass untamed. Still he stands alone, against the odds just flesh and bone. "Such hell is this?" He comprehendes, "what evil seeks such ends?" Then he stares into the abyss and sword in hand he charges forth, to tame the grass and reforge the crown. And to keep the sky from crashing down.

Colors paint across the rain, pavement melts into a black-gray stain, the sun goes cold and sky goes dim. The music is the roaring wind, smiles split across the sky lightning laughter, passes by. A tapestry of the untamed, a symphony of wild days, operatic shifting shades. days pass by but it never ends the artistry of gods plan.

Where would we be if you had stuck with me, a life miles away, hauntingly close. but never apart of what we are or what we should be.

she was strong enough to jump and weak enough to drown

I see bullets in the water. Gently floating down, out of sight, not a sound. I see bullets in the water, they float slowly to the ground. Water fills my lungs and slowly I drown.
Children all around come crying at my wake. A single bullet is all my life could take. Dont feel sad when I'm gone, don't even sing along. All ths bullet did for me, was set me free.
yes the bullets in the water.
And you just watched me drown.
Yes there were bullets in the water. But no gun was found.

He opened his eyes in a night sky,
Waxed black and fed by dews darkness,
Ebon and incarnadine mists consumed the air,
One hundred ravens in coracinet played

Soft music gliding her pale feet,  
Quivering a flutter she swayed dreaming,
Before his black oak door,
Long his finger enchanted the path,

Fluttering onward in rapture,
The bell rings and rings,
Come dance, dance with thee,
Enchanted ye be

Her naked withering pallid body,  
Of silk and chiffon he enfolded,
Her lips tasting amber and figs ripening,
Coruscating maidens swirled an epitome of dance

Not until she was dark grown repentance,
Renouncing all others,
Only then he shall devour upon her,
A bargain be struck,

Swept away riven by her dreaming plea,
My lady crowned dance with thee,
Beholdeth spelled she be troth,
And the Raven King hungered upon her lips

Forever radiant enchanted black,

── Unto the dance of night, his eternally bound


© Arnay Rumens 2015