Ryan Davis

Lady Anhedonia and a Romance Funereal

And she said, "Darling, your voice envelops me ever so softly, like a velvet-lined coffin,
It maketh me to wonder what sounds thou makest in the throes of passion's embrace,
Sweet and tender, binding thee close to my heart like chains of thorns,
Embalming thee softly with its scent, sweet, tangy, and reminiscent of death,
Like beds of lilies, pale and sickly with Anemia,
Enchanting thee to my call as it fills thy lungs,
And sticks to thine skin like crisp, autumn air, electric, as before a storm.
And how fitting it be, as our love swells and fills the air with its sound,
Like peals of thunder, setting the sky alight like a candle,
Splitting the clouds and covering everything within reach in its refreshing euphoria,
Like a much needed spring rain.
It causes flowers to grow, and buds to blossom upon the branches of the once-naked trees."

To this he deftly replied, "Dost thou thinketh thou can save me?
Surely thou doth speak in jest,
For I have been abandoned, cast aside,
Laid to waste in anathema.
I have not even the likeness of being human,
And I could scarcely pass for a crumbling effigy of psychosis.
This sorrow, roughshod it be as it rapes my empty heartless chest,
Dost thou thinketh thy can banish it so that I might find peace?
Alas, lady Anhedonia, with thy tendrils of doubt and hopelessness,
She hath me enchained, rendered and broken."

Quoth she, ever so eloquently, "I know of the pain thou speaketh.
For I too was once held within its throes, naked and shivering.
Loneliness be the name of the ghost that kept me,
Abused and underfed like a child,
Locked within the attic.
It's breath, like arctic breeze upon my sallow skin.
Pneumonia it fed me, with callow gray fingers,
And buried me in the maggot-filled scree of my paranoia.
But thou seem to hath scared it off,
For whensoever thou art close to me,
My troubles seem but a forgotten nightmare.
Will thee not stay with me, and stave off this bitter, sterile darkness,
That tastes of rotten fruit and smells of decay?"

To this, he thought to himself quietly for several minutes, and then, with great consternation, replied thusly,
"Thou persistence doth bring me amazement and dismay,
And thy prosaic, honey-dipped tongue doth enchant me so.
While it is true that thy countenance may astound and bewilder many,
I be not drawn to thee by such trivialities alone.
Nay, thy entire air about thee hath much semblance to things both wonderful and beautiful,
In ways I can scarcely count.
Nay, not even I, with my deft hand and clever tongue, can give fitting description to thee.
Neither my thoughts, nor my actions,
Nor my prose, nor my speech.
Perhaps I shall endeavor to create a language,
And fill it with words and phrases of mine own invention,
Fitting enough to pertain to thee and thine manner.
Speak, fair maiden! Pray cast off thy coy reservedness."

At this, a tinge of scarlet sprang upon her cheeks, and she spake,
"Thou hast made mine heart to flutter daftly under my breast.
Dost thou attempt to court me with thy bold, abounding flourishes?"

Valiantly he replied, "And what of it, if so be it?"
Flitting her eyelashes she beguiled,
"My heart was thine before thou didst open thy mouth to speak.

My Story : finish the sentence

Hi, my name is:
Ryan Edwin Davis.


Never in my life have I been to:
Europe. T_T


I hate it when:
Things don't happen the way I'd imagined/hoped they would.


If your gonna talk crap about me:
Don't. It hurts. More than you could ever know. I'm extremely sensitive to criticism of any kind.


When I'm nervous:
I shake and fidget and bite my lip and look around a lot. And then I start going OCD,
checking the clock, the parking lot, etc., repeatedly.


The last song I listened to was:
Cocteau Twins - Blue Bell Knoll.


If you were to get married today ur maid of honor/best man would be:
Ruby. Duh.


My hair is:
Long, curly, and dark blonde.


When I was 5:
I was very hyper. And obsessed with my little sisters. Rachel had just been born, and Kelly was two
years old. So I was always playing with them and stuff.


Last Christmas:
Was lame. I don't even remember it. That's how lame it was.

I should be:
Dead. I should've been born in the late eighteenth/early nineteenth century.
That is wear I belonged. What was the death of poetry, art, Victorianism, and Romanticism,
should have been the death of me.


When I look down:
I see the world decaying beneath me.


The happiest recent event was:
Last night... I felt again what I thought was forever lost from me. And I still remember what it felt like. ♥


My current annoyance is:
The death of beauty and America's indifference toward it.
No one knows what beauty is anymore.
No one knows what art is.
The word 'human' has become an expletive, and I wish to distance myself from it,
to the greatest magnitude possible.
I am now at odds with humanity, and so I shall become 
the definition of inhuman, of surreal, of abnormal.
I shall become walking, talking, thinking art.
And so they shall be forced to accept it, if not accept me.


The thing I want to buy is:
New clothes. Beautiful, extravagant, avant-garde, over-the-top, melodramatic clothes.


Most recent thing I've bought myself:
Three of those quaint little flasks of mini-nail polish.
"Night" (black), "Pure Ice Splash" (glittery light blue),
and "Frosted Ice Celestial" (shimmery dark blue).


Most recent thing someone else bought me was:
"The Complete Idiot's Guide to Pre-Calculus". I feel so smart.


My middle name is:
Edwin. I used to loathe it, but I think I'm growing fond of it.
There's a certain Victorian/Romantic quality to it, and it suits me.


My favorite color(s) is(are):
Purple, black, white, silver,
crimson, scarlet, rainy day blues and grays,
burgundy, and possibly others I forgot to list.


I'm wearing:
A black shirt with Gir holding a pig above his head on it.
It reads "I LOVE THIS PIG!".
Then I have my customary rubber bands on my left arm, and my anarcho-punk wristband on my right arm.
My fingernails are painted white, but they are beginning to chip.
Then I have my plaid pajama bottoms on. I look like shit.


Last night I was:
Also in a state of pure bliss. ♥


If I was an animal I'd be:
Hmm... Well, those of you that know my favorite animal is the moth, would probably then
assume that I'd answer this "A moth".
You are, however, wrong. I would be a black cat.
Moths do not have the ability to reason, and I doubt they have the capacity to 
experience much pleasure or pain, if any at all.
Nor do I think they can feel emotions. Thus, a black cat.


Tomorrow I am:
Possibly spending time with the one responsible for the aforementioned bliss of last night. ♥


Tonight I am:
Putting the finishing touches on Disc 2 of Songs To Die For: A Dark Collection, which I have titled
"Flesh and Fangs and Filigree; Colors, Shapes, and Symmetry".