biscuit's dreaming; clouds above her head

may you be kind to your suffering is what I infer it says because from the torn edges of the little paper slip I grabbed off the poster on the pole you be kind to your suffering, it now says it is not a wish, it is an imperative I put the little slip of paper in my pocket

inquiry for anyone who can answer; google, reddit? can anxiety and apathy exist in the same experience i feel so anxious i feel so stifled but none of this matters, i know, i know none of this matters because none of my feelings matter because i don't matter? but if i don't matter if i don't matter, i can make a matter of myself i can exist, i can be free so why do i not? why don't i just go crazy? i think i'm paranoid anxiety and apathy. i don't care about myself but i know that isn't true and i'm not anxious enough to self destruct is this apathy or hatred? i get paranoid that this discrimination is based on hatred but it's based on apathy isn't it? i stop talking at work at a point when i get reminded that i don't belong there that no one really cares no one cares, no one cares, no one loves me, no one loves me but that isn't true isn't it? i know you love me i know /// love me i know /// love me but am i too anxious to believe it?

it's every girl's god given right to haphazardly trim away their bangs in the mirror in a manic daze to bring the scissors too close to your eyes, but that's how they do it, that's how they do it deliberate every snip with a sense of doubt and regret I wish for this to be perfect, I wish I was perfect it's every girl like me's god given right to feel a feeling you can't describe like the immense weight of living crashing onto you like thick hands smothering your mouth and nose  like a punch in the face like being yelled at by your parents as a kid like the first time you smoked a joint like waking up to find your self harm scars from seven years ago healed almost entirely - only to be a little disappointed it's every girl like me's god given right to stare into themselves in the mirror and cut their bangs with dull three dollar scissors  as their stubble you had thought you had spent all this damn money to laser off leers at you you can only leer bac

half of these are in the style of john darnielle's work the boombox is a reference to how he used to record his older albums on it most of the time the onamateopeia is supposed to be the tape buzz the structure of those lines are inspired by the band gingnang boyz' "aidonwanadai" that's sort of from t.s. eliot's the hollow men that last line is from jawbreaker - "boxcar" that's a poem inspired by that one video of the two trans girls shooting up meth or heroin and those...? those were your words, not mine that one was inspired by natsuki's poems from doki doki literature club those are my own version of will toledo's beach series  I think that title was vaguely inspired by the microphones? those are from kingdom hearts that's directly inspired by punpun obviously but also flowers of evil that term is one I learned from bleach and also WORRY. it was the term orihime used once that's a quote from tetsuo the iron man that's a ref

one day my mind is gonna fracture into pieces and my saliva will pool on the ground like a waterfall if I'm lucky, there will be blood I love the way how the text of the credits in older films shake The final picture punches you in the face And then the words They shake and twitch and writhe Oh man, oh man, oh man, the words on my computer are shaking and twitching and writhing! This must be the end, my only friend, THE END!

on my way back home from work at 11pm I walk past by piles and piles and piles of cardboard on the curbside  each shop leaving out abundances of cardboard like an offering the wind has strewn bits and pieces of it on the road each pile arranged in their own way boxes of different colours and shapes and languages expelled to the wayside  the loud crashes of the glass bins collected by the 4am garbage trucks stir me from my sleep i wake up a couple hours later and on my morning jog, I notice that the impossible stacks of cardboard boxes from last night disappeared i squeak in exhilaration the cold water washes my sweat away and I wade through my room with a yelp and a sob I wipe my tears away and clean up all the cardboard just to be ready if you ever decided to come visit again

I'm deathly curious, I'm deathly curious About this box I found Laying in a pile of memories of you It's a plain, pale coloured box, decorated by scars Look at the state of the box...  There's so much claw marks on it, there's so much puncture holes, there's so much seared edges I hear it beating, I hear it's shallow breaths, I hear it struggling, I hear it sobbing, I hear it mewling Look at the blood pooling around the box, look at the blood pool up I'm deathly curious, I'm deathly curious But, I know that there isn't a cat in there. My heart is in there, isn't it? I'm not opening that box

  I shaved the top of my head in a perfect round bowl shape Cut open my skin with a little scalpel Peeled the layers of skin to expose my bloody skull Tapped it open with an icepick Split open my head in half Sandwiched my temple inbetwixt my palms Popped out my brain with a pwah! and a bounce And I stared at myself in the mirror My brain perfectly intact and wired I thought about every single word that I associated with you Watched the neurons spark and flash and zip across my brain Like standing from a balcony high up watching over the city watching the lights of cars and trucks and motorbikes speeding across a busy highway at dawn, when the sky is pink and raw You never stop wanting more I laid down on my little futon and like a vertical harakiri I took that same little scalpel and opened up my body vertically from my chest to my my pubic bone for you to see and yet there was still nothing there to look at