i should've kissed you | open |

[RYAN VINCENT DRAHEIM]

'' take your past and burn it up and let
'' it go , c a r r y on i'm s t r o n g e r than you'll ever know

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The warm afternoon sun in Oakland, California kept the earth as well as Ryan's bones warm as he slowly walked through the long serene rows of gravestones. The neatly mowed grasses were a short soft emerald carpet beneath his worn chuck taylors. The marble and granite grave stones varied in size, shape, and age created hundreds of rows in the slightly rolling landscape of the cemetery. Some were nothing more than a little rectangle of rock engraved with someone's name, date of birth and passing, and a little insignia about their life. Others, were tall statutes of religious figures with elaborate decorations in the markers and engravings. Some people have more money than they know what to do with. Must be nice to have enough to throw at time to burn. Ryan mused silently as he passed a family plot of elaborate and upscale grave stones. He paused at one where a flower had become separated from the rest of the bouquet and he bent over, his tight black jeans hugging his lower body even more, before picking it up and placing it back in the neat pile of roses. In passing, his attention was piqued by the years that were relatively close together; 2007-2012. That had been a very young child then, no older than five. Hazel eyes scanned over the marker again but it didn't elude to anything more than the typical 'taken from us too soon, will be horribly missed'. The things that people never really think nor really do.

But Ryan was probably biased, though. He had never known his mother -- she had died giving birth to him. Then, his father took care of him until he was two because a short time after Ryan's second birthday, his father was murdered. The authorities believed it to be a civilian mishap from the German mafia. Apparently, a mob lord thought his dad was someone else and seemed to fit the profile of someone else well enough for them to kill him by mistake. However, that was never fully proven. Another theory was that his dad was selling drugs and quit selling all the sudden so someone decided that killing him was worth it. But you know, just because his dad was in the same circles as drug dealers and criminals didn't mean he was one of them. Just like standing in a garage for hours on end doesn't make you even more of a car or something. Ryan shook his head, his dark hair falling over one eye until he pushed it back to the side. He slid his inked hands into the pockets of his jeans as he continued walking through the neat lines of graves. He didn't have any particular destination other than to just spend time by himself in the relative peace and quiet. He needed to write some new songs for his band, Feast of Thorns. He needed to find a lead guitarist too..oh and everything else a band needs.

Right now, he had nothing. After living in Oakland for eighteen years, one would think he knew people but he didn't. Not musicians at least. Photographers? Plenty. Tattoo artists? Tons of those too. If he didn't love singing and music so much, he would be either of the two just mentioned. Well, he did know of a few musicians but they were in their own band and he would never ask anyone to leave their current situation to weave their way into his. Unless they wanted to, of course. ''I should have kissed you goodnight. I should have pushed you up against the wall... '' He let the lyrics roll off his tongue easily and if Feast of Thorns did covers, he felt they could fix it up pretty good. But who was he to make such plans yet? Again, he didn't have anything other than a vocalist which was himself, obviously. Even if he could make such plans, Feast of Thorns wasn't going to be a cover band. He had his own message he wanted to put out for the world to listen to and read. That didn't involve recycling someone else's lyrics to make a song. If they need a little fun along the way, they might do a cover or two but it wouldn't be their main line. As he continued walking, he let various other lyrics tumble out into the quiet nature of the cemetery. Who else was going to hear him other than the dead, anyway?

'' words like this ''
thoughts like this

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tagged: tagged for anyone !
word count: seven hundred and forty-nine !
notes: none !
lyrics: ...to be loved - papa roach !
credit:NOTHING_PERSONAL @ CAUTION !

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[TARYN LEE WHITE]

SET SAIL ON CONCRETE WAVES
no survivors left to save
TOO LATE FOR THE WALKING DEAD

To set the record straight. This getup was never her cup of tea. After watching her sister get involved in drugs and alcohol, Taryn had found herself wanting away from it as much as possible. She had always been her parent's favorite child. But as she grew up, hitting 19 had pushed her to the outside world. She found herself with a few piercings and tattoos, and wanting to be near the music her sister Larken had been making. Taking a passion she had been developing from her younger years, the younger White sister took her photography on the world...traveling with Speed Static. Of course she hadn't talked to Larken since her joining the new world of rock and traveling bands. They had never gotten along, and Taryn wasn't sure they ever would. Her thoughts distracted her at this time of day. She had sat outside of her apartment on the fire escape for a good hour, before deciding that a walk through the cemetery would be better served. Throwing clothes on and grabbing her camera she had quickly made her way out of the building, and to the dark lot of loneliness. Not many came here at this time. It seemed that not many came to the cemetery anyways...but during the afternoon hours it seemed that things were slowing down more than usual. Sighing her boots hit the ground with a reassuring thud. She could always trust the worn leather boots that she had worn since her early teen years.

Rounding the block she found her eyes resting on the large black gates, pulling her camera from around her neck to her eye. The afternoon sun was always nice to shoot photos in. Letting her legs bend to achieve the angle she wanted, she pressed her slender finger down to let the shutter work its magic. Entering the rows of granite and marble gravestones she soon found herself staring at the silhouette of a human. By the way it moved, and the way it was shaped she was sure the unknown being was a male. Silhouettes were always something she enjoyed to shoot. Capturing the unknown seemed to leave creativity for the viewer....and she herself enjoyed the simplicity it could bring. To get closer she would have to duck and dive around the larger stones. Just because silhouettes were nice, didn't mean she wanted the mysterious figure to remain a mystery. As she neared the man she found lyrics making their way to her ears. She knew the voice. It was very familiar to her. If only she could see the face...maybe then she could put two and two together. Standing she heard a clear set of lyrics...'I should have kissed you goodnight. I should have pushed you up against the wall.... Smirking lightly she stood from her position, brushing back a strand of hair.

"Talking to me?" Her voice was humorous, playful and perhaps just a little flirty. She let the camera fall from her hands, dangling from the strap around her neck. It had clicked who it was...Ryan Draheim...from, that one band. Oh what was it?! Feast of Thorns. Now she had it. His singing had brought up the want to sing...not many knew she could. She kept it inside of her, the shy part of her wishing to keep it a secret. She also had the talent of her sister's guitar. It was a wonder that Taryn was a photography, and not a back up vocalist of guitar player for one of the many bands in the area.



{{ word count - a lot P:
{{ tagged - ryan
{{ notes - clothing | this post...sucks
{{ credits! - we still kill the old way - lostprophets

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[RYAN VINCENT DRAHEIM]

'' take your past and burn it up and let
'' it go , c a r r y on i'm s t r o n g e r than you'll ever know

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Ryan slowly made his way through the rows, unaware of anyone else in the cemetery with him. A jumbled mess of thoughts about Germany, death, music, and pain rolled around in his head like vicious tumble weeds being driven by hurricane force winds. He slid a hand into his back pocket and pulled out a half empty pack of cigarettes and his Grim Reaper emblazoned zippo, lighting one before putting the pack and lighter back in his pocket. His lips curled around the cigarette for a moment before he puffed out a couple plumes of blue gray smoke. He could hear his adopted mother's voice now, 'All that smoking will kill your voice, Ryan!' She was probably right but he couldn't care. He was going to smoke no matter what she said. The Flemings were a great family, no doubt about it. But he wasn't under their roof anymore and he could destroy the world on his own whim now. He puffed on the cigarette a few more times before holding it between his middle and index finger lightly. Shortly after he sang a few lines, a voice to his right caught his attention. 'Talking to me?' His gaze flickered to a blond haired girl that looked familiar. She was from the tour, at least he thought so. Speed Static? Maybe? Yeah, that sounded right. He was fairly certain her name was Taryn. ''Depends if you want me to push you up against the wall and kiss you?" He smirked lightly before taking a short drag of the rolled up paper loaded with nicotine. His cigarette had a filter but Ryan sure didn't.

'' words like this ''
thoughts like this

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tagged: tagged for anyone !
word count: too lazy to look !
notes: sorry it sucks x.x im exhausted !
lyrics: ...to be loved - papa roach !
credit:NOTHING_PERSONAL @ CAUTION !

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