the gypsy king -- lucian vasile

[swing]

<center>Send a heartbeat to
The void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
For now we stand alone
The world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate
With no more to hate
Is it bright where you are
Have the people changed
Does it make you happy you're so strange
And in your darkest hour
I hold secrets flame
We can watch the world devoured in its pain

Delivered from the blast
The last of a line of lasts
The pale princess of a palace cracked
And now the kingdom comes
Crashing down undone
And I am a master of a nothing place
Of recoil and grace

Is it bright where you are
Have the people changed
Does it make you happy you're so strange </center>


(smashing pumpkins.)

<center></center>

His blood was composed of the earth -- fingers tapped out its palpitation beneath their nails which were kept bludgeoned. Sinews were strung up the splinters of his bones like a finely tuned instrument, but his lacquer came in patches of black ink. The Vasile family breathed music from their lungs and composed symphonies with their hands, but he was the only one to orchestrate ink. No music was sweeter to him than the humming of a needle as it bled out the bad pulse and replaced it with the color of his eyes. He didn't want the historical fame of his father, but a living history -- one composed on skin.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ June 19, 2005 06:42 PM: Message edited by: secondhand bruises ]</font>

[swing]

"Are you a vampire?"
The small child's voice was petulant as she asked the question, tiny hands balled on tiny hips while she ticked her head to side expectant for an answer. The man who laid himself out like a corpse in the grass tilted dark eyes toward the blonde girl and curved a pale mouth into a smirk as an inked hand lifted to cover his eyes from the beating rays of the sun.

"Am I a what?"

"A vampire," she responded for clarification.

"Aren't vampires afraid of the sun?"

"Some are, I bet you're just a special vampire."

"There are special vampires?"

"Yes, special ones that can stay out in the s--"

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry. Danielle!" A woman interjected the chatter between man and girl and bent down to turn the girl to face her. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?"

"He's not a stranger, he's a vampire." The girl corrected her mother and rolled her eyes.

"I'm actually neither, my name is Lucian."

"I'm sorry again, Lucian. Come on." The woman offered a bland smile toward the man in the grass before she snatched her daughter's hand and drug her away towards the playground.

Lucian dug in his pocket for his cigarettes and lit one with a match, breathing out smoke signals in the grass as he attempted to keep himself close to the pulse of his family.