biscuit's dreaming; clouds above her head

 I always believed that one's work is a reflection of their heart Their bloody bleeding heart And I don't like your heart I don't like your bloody bleeding heart Your vapid rapidly beating heart bleeds for the wrong reason If you let me have your rapidly beating heart I would make the most beautiful song If you let me have your bloody bleeding heart I would make the most beautiful picture But I hate your heart I hate your bloody bleeding heart And I hate the person it belongs to

They said it was a costume party. So I was wearing a costume. Except no one else was wearing a costume. Everyone was themselves. The dress code was contemporary adult.  I was wearing the pink sailor schoolgirl uniform I had since high school. Sitting on the couch, alone surrounded by strangers and a couple people I knew from work.  I was mortified that I let myself dress this way, in front of people who didn't know me. Bad first impression, bad assumptions to be made. So I sat miserably with my chin in my palms staring at the party, playing loud generic drum and bass, something you would hear at one of the clubs in town that I don't go to. "Come and dance, it'll make you feel better" said [].  I danced weakly to the music. I wasn't enjoying myself. [] got swept up with the others, and I was yet again alone. The speaker was left unattended, so I surveilanced the party before analyzing the speaker controls. What was in my playlist that vaguely sounded in place a

I've always been attracted to the elusive, the esoteric But lately I've realized I'm not quite punk Nothing is more elusive than you Nothing is more illusive than you You're a magic mirror, you're perfect playback You're an illusory thing You're a wanted thing You're a fragmentary thing Just to get a piece of you I want to grip a shard of you until you're covered in blood I dream of an illusory thing, of pastel colors and an impossible blue sky Nothing is more impossible than you Nothing is more impassible than you But I'm saccharine and I'm kitsch I'm not so special I'm a fascimile I'm an echo of history I never lived I'm not punk, and I'm telling everyone

He came up on stage with what looked like blood on his shirt The two on the right were fit for a funeral procession, black shirts, all polite On the far left, Zombie Man's white button up dress shirt captured most of the purple light Zombie Man before the bite was a meek, anxious, lean, shaggy-haired guy I saw on campus I saw him stumble around class, his brows always furrowed in a melancholic gaze But now his curly hair draped his eyes as he hunched over his guitar He pulled his hand back with a raging force, like yanking the cord to a busted lawn mower Guitar sputtering like a busted lawn mower whose cord has been yanked And as if each stroke was electrocuting him, he writhed and bended and convulsed Like being poked with a cattle prod Each bending of the knees looked like London Calling Each twist of his hips a desperate scrambling for control of his body I wanted to be bit by you, just so I could understand how you could move like that Shuffling like a zombie man A hungry, angr

 As a child I could never climb that big purple climbing set That insurmountable climbing set at the town park If I made it to the top, I'd surely see the whole wide world's boundless horizons  The climbing net of the set had holes too big for me I would fall and pass through so easily  It would surely kill me if I dare tried to brave the climb I would surely let myself fall and come tumbling head-first onto the bark below I thought I would forever be stuck on ground, staring above at the triangulated peak of the climbing set I'm sitting at the top of that big purple climbing set That insurmountable climbing set at the town park I saw the borders of this town, and nothing beyond it's corners

all I had to do was sit there for the entire trip no solace, no solidarity  just sit as you sobbed down the rural roads that twisted and turned hi-visibility poles no stars came out that night just sit  as you backed too far into the concrete walls in the thin driveway the bumper fell off and you stopped crying as you thought about what dad would say I'm still sitting in the car to this day just sitting 

Rusted bike bodies Like limbless torsos Line the walls Metal panels Broken window with a rotted wood frame In the smudges of the cleanest sheet of steel in the shed I could see my distorted shape staring in judgment of myself Getting revenge against someone who never hurt me Frantically trying to make justifications even in the moment A strange compulsion drags myself back to that shed from time to time To get tortured until the day I die In the same damp spot where beer was spilt, and will never dry  

I wore men's black underwear, 60 denier tights, a long flowing black skirt and a large black coat I saw her bare arms and I saw her bare thighs and not a word had left my mouth about it In this city there is no judgement I was yelling, I was screaming, I was throwing up in the back room bathroom, huffing, heaving, heavily breathing You listen to my voice, only hearing a larynx elevated speaking in a sweet tone I roar with a desperate strength, pleading Just to turn any heads in my direction But in this city, there is no judgement

Woaoawoawoaw! Like buzzards swarming Your true and honest self is recorded on a Panasonic RX-FT500 boombox I'll never settle for something that's just "close enough" Your true and honest self looks more real on a Blackmagic URSA I can see the marks that I left so clearly in this fidelity Zzz zzz zzz, hiss, scratch Woawoawaowoaw...

 I can't feel bad for tearing your throat out But I do for that terrible look in your eyes It means that you hate me That's how the world ended With a small whine

I find it incredible how strong humans are to be able to get by no matter what I could've never caught a sight at you for the first time by chance and you would still be sound asleep I could disappear from this city forever and you would still wake up tomorrow I can picture you smiling, just as you already do, in a world without me I think it's incredible I find it incredible how strong humans are I must not be human

i go by many names rain was the name that was given to me; a wonderful wonderful ambigiously gendered name. the greatest gift that my parents have given to me, a name i could be proud of skeeptieel was my big internet name and identity, based upon the pokemon “sceptile”, and its the one that you may know me by biscuit was the name i carved out for myself when i wanted to disassociate from the public name that got sullied. of course, i was, still myself heathzers was the name that the girl who crawled out of me went by; a girly lump of angst who was screaming to come out of me hi, my name is rain and welcome to my blog!!! discover my fun blog posts and poems and thoughts!!!