Hotel Cat
The year following Lori's passing, I lived in many places, each further from the house we had shared. I only stayed for as long as I felt welcome, in some places, that lasted for days, in others, hours. I couldn't allow myself to call any of these buildings a home. For most, though, I wouldn't want to, either.
* * *
I lie on the floor of a room. My clothes and my face are dirty. It's dark, and my hair is greasy and my clothes are stuck tight to my body with sweat. I'm hungry. I haven't eaten today. I didn't eat yesterday, either. The room, it's in a hotel whose name I can't remember. It's not the first hotel that I've slept
I live passionately like a singer in the throes of creation
And like a guitarist, tearing up the neck of his beloved Les Paul.
My life is a song:
A slow, lonely lamentation at times
But always an explosion of character and enthusiasm.
I am the night city, shining light into the darkness.
I am the crowned body, reaching higher and higher for the stars.
I am the means of destruction, and I am the bones that lie buried.
I walk the earth to the rhythm of my beating heart.
And, I burst forth from the horizon:
A hellhound possessed by a primal desire.
I rock and I roll and I toss and I turn
Like a snake thirsty for tender flesh.
And I
In the House of Cash
By Ryan Sullivan
Sometimes, looking at the people around you, your friends, your family, your enemies, you realize that youre living away the only time that youll ever have. You realize that years of your life are ticking by, one second at a time. Sometimes, even standing by the ocean, holding the person that you love isnt enough to stop the minutes from flying by.
Oh, sometimes youll notice new wrinkles on the faces of your relatives and your friends. Youll see the people you love shrink and die before your eyes. Yes, you know that one day soon, youll stare into the mirror and noti
Stars
By Ryan Joseph Sullivan
Im running. Im running from a beast with six-hundred shadowy arms and a thousand piercing red eyes.
Millions of black oak branches blacken out the sun. Leaves crunch under my feet.
Im running, and Im scared. Christ, Im scared.
I wake up, and I see a shadow cross my ceiling. I sit up in my bed. Im drenched in sweat, but I just want to lie down. After a moment, I get out of bed.
Its sunny outside: cloudy, but sunny. I feel the suns warmth through my window, but I know its cold outside. It was cold outside yesterday, and the day before that, and the day be
I listen to silence.
I talk to the sun.
I savor the taste of
My scarlet gun.
I look to the stars
For the answers of life
And I answer to none
But the steely knife.
And in the darkest night I ride
With liquid cape and poison eye
And I, the destroyer,
With wings of lies,
Travel with light,
Deciding who dies
Americas David
By Ryan Sullivan
David Malcolm Nash
Massachusetts
Pvt. US Army
World War II
Born 1916- Died 1954
The way that I remember my closest friend is as Davey, not as David Malcolm Nash, the war hero, or as Mr. Nash, the defeated shell of a man. I remember him as Davey. Now, if you ask anybody about him, theyll tell you about how he gunned down fifty Nazis by himself with his hand tied behind his back, after most of his platoon had been killed. Theyll tell you about how he walked forty miles back to camp, uphill without shoes, and with nothing but moss to tell north from south. Theyll tell you all about
Hotel Cat
The year following Lori's passing, I lived in many places, each further from the house we had shared. I only stayed for as long as I felt welcome, in some places, that lasted for days, in others, hours. I couldn't allow myself to call any of these buildings a home. For most, though, I wouldn't want to, either.
* * *
I lie on the floor of a room. My clothes and my face are dirty. It's dark, and my hair is greasy and my clothes are stuck tight to my body with sweat. I'm hungry. I haven't eaten today. I didn't eat yesterday, either. The room, it's in a hotel whose name I can't remember. It's not the first hotel that I've slept
Americas David
By Ryan Sullivan
David Malcolm Nash
Massachusetts
Pvt. US Army
World War II
Born 1916- Died 1954
The way that I remember my closest friend is as Davey, not as David Malcolm Nash, the war hero, or as Mr. Nash, the defeated shell of a man. I remember him as Davey. Now, if you ask anybody about him, theyll tell you about how he gunned down fifty Nazis by himself with his hand tied behind his back, after most of his platoon had been killed. Theyll tell you about how he walked forty miles back to camp, uphill without shoes, and with nothing but moss to tell north from south. Theyll tell you all about
I listen to silence.
I talk to the sun.
I savor the taste of
My scarlet gun.
I look to the stars
For the answers of life
And I answer to none
But the steely knife.
And in the darkest night I ride
With liquid cape and poison eye
And I, the destroyer,
With wings of lies,
Travel with light,
Deciding who dies
Stars
By Ryan Joseph Sullivan
Im running. Im running from a beast with six-hundred shadowy arms and a thousand piercing red eyes.
Millions of black oak branches blacken out the sun. Leaves crunch under my feet.
Im running, and Im scared. Christ, Im scared.
I wake up, and I see a shadow cross my ceiling. I sit up in my bed. Im drenched in sweat, but I just want to lie down. After a moment, I get out of bed.
Its sunny outside: cloudy, but sunny. I feel the suns warmth through my window, but I know its cold outside. It was cold outside yesterday, and the day before that, and the day be
In the House of Cash
By Ryan Sullivan
Sometimes, looking at the people around you, your friends, your family, your enemies, you realize that youre living away the only time that youll ever have. You realize that years of your life are ticking by, one second at a time. Sometimes, even standing by the ocean, holding the person that you love isnt enough to stop the minutes from flying by.
Oh, sometimes youll notice new wrinkles on the faces of your relatives and your friends. Youll see the people you love shrink and die before your eyes. Yes, you know that one day soon, youll stare into the mirror and noti
I live passionately like a singer in the throes of creation
And like a guitarist, tearing up the neck of his beloved Les Paul.
My life is a song:
A slow, lonely lamentation at times
But always an explosion of character and enthusiasm.
I am the night city, shining light into the darkness.
I am the crowned body, reaching higher and higher for the stars.
I am the means of destruction, and I am the bones that lie buried.
I walk the earth to the rhythm of my beating heart.
And, I burst forth from the horizon:
A hellhound possessed by a primal desire.
I rock and I roll and I toss and I turn
Like a snake thirsty for tender flesh.
And I
I just submitted a load of new stuff. Not that it matters anyway. I'd be surprised if I wasn't the only one that checks this page! Well, if anyone else checks it, enjoy!
Hello, anybody that decides to read this.
Thank you for taking the time out to check up on my little page of basically nothing. More things are coming soon!!! :) Keep an eye out.
~Ryan