ryan summit { seven } fin

I am the fire, I am the ice and the storm.

Rain: it's bitter-sweet. To wash away the emotion and leave you a brittle collection of bones. Hollow and weak, a gentle melody would cause you to splinter and fray. No blood through your veins and no spirit in your soul; you become empty, ruined.

But rain gives you the chance to change. Gone are the tiresome replays of broken hearts and vacant emotions, gone are the histories gleaming through your skin and gone are the sad times and bad times and times of wishing to forget. Before you, lies opportunity. A moment to resurrect what you once were and kill what you've become.

Survival is your myth, but revival is what it takes to become a legend.

I have fires burning deep within which escape with every slither of a chance they get. Through my lips and out of my ears, smoke plumes billowing out of each inch of my body. I am a fighter and I stand proud, but this rage within can only be bottled up for so long. Bound with glass, I am Ryan Summit: a ticking time bomb.

A constant battle between cold and hot swells in my own mind. Spears of ice and the roaring blazes wage war against each other, my thoughts getting lost in the blur. Emotion is classified as missing in action as a cavalry of stone warriors defend my crashing four walls. My own demons scared away by my fallen iron angels which protect me from hurt, heartbreak and honour.

My logic: show no emotion, feel no pain. Erect walls strengthened by past and present sentiments to lock weakness out. You can see the beauty, but not the reinforcements beneath.

I've promised and sworn I'd find peace with myself, but it's hard when wars are all you can think of.

The reality is I am Ryan Summit: pulled and pushed, morphed and bent, cracked like broken spines. I told them to stop hammering nails into my coffin because there's still spirit left in me. I whizz with intelligence of the highest degree: manipulation and control are my second nature but when 'Summit' is sewn onto your skin, you are nothing but a stray.

'Summit' is my own mountain to climb, but I am an angel destined to fall.

{ table: zoë }

IN THE LAND OF GODS AND MONSTERS
I WAS AN ANGEL
LIVING IN THE GARDEN OF EVIL

["Fuck you."]

["And a massive fuck you, too."]

When I die, I want to be buried upside-down so the world can kiss my ass. Death is inevitable; part of our everyday lives here in seven, but still we mourn and fuss over it like it was unexpected.

I've seen devils and I've seen saints all within my own bloodline. We are a freakshow contained in a birdcage, insanity leaking out from between the cracks. Come too close and you'll be tainted by our undying tales of tragedy, and walk too far and our ghost will haunt you like the demons within.

I am tired of being crowned the title 'weak' just because of my roots. Stella Summit may be long gone but we carry her strength as well as her pain. We are pieces to a jigsaw which will never fit but remain part of the game. And I love it.

It never has been simple for us. Plagued with hatred and blood pulsing with rage; I am ill spirit personified. Impurities growing from my brain which swell with secrets and whispers which have barely entered the world.

We have built our empire on foundations of sticks and stones. From it rise delicate skyscrapers of glass which take only a tap to come down. They get higher with each new day, the sunlight bringing life to the scene whilst the moonlight sets a sorrowful cinematic occasion. The three little pigs had their houses blown down and we are no different.

Time counts down and so do we, waiting for the moment in which the bad wolf strikes to steal another being to add it to the museum of bodies which lie below. 

Death is no alien. 

Death is my intoxicant, and I'm addicted to it because I'm too scared to face the wreckage of a reality.

When I die, please for the love of Ripred, bury me upside-down so the world can kiss my pretty ass. Because I know that I'll have proved the history books wrong: a stray Summit who was a storm in a teacup.

I may be half a corpse, but I'm a breathing, talking, dead girl walking who is crafted from the past's ice and the present's fire. I am filled with poison, but blessed with beauty and rage.

{ table: zoë }

IN THE LAND OF GODS AND MONSTERS
I WAS AN ANGEL
LIVING IN THE GARDEN OF EVIL