I fucking hate idiots.

Breathing silence from a sleeping tongue,
a white vision among black faces
Failing, at provision of thought... glaring
wildly
into the eyes of
Self.
Angry are the irises, which have protruded themselves
forward,
to stretch to the unknown.

Attempting to analyze myself.
Though I have not forgotten how truly difficult it can be, I still seem to be all the more shocked.

The full clarity of my voice is disappearing...if not, gone altogether.

Rough artist's hands... my hands. Sketched with remains of paint and calloused sores.
I am so tired, tired of rejection...tired of being repremanded.
tired of being alone.

I am in survival mode. How damn pathetic is that?

I truly hate myself.

-rain

alone.

-rain

I feel a need to be strong for you but...

I can't. Not right now.

Realization: I dont believe in God. This is not just because God seems like a complete bullshit idea to me,

it's because I DONT WANT TO. GOT IT? I DONT WANT TO....

-rain

Far away...she ran. And never came back home.

Today is strange. So was yesterday.
I do not know what I am feeling. It hurts.
I sound like a broken record, and I apologize for it.
A friend hates me. I feel so uneasy... tense, and depressed over it.

I want to write so bad... but I just dont know what to say...or how to say it...

The Revelation

Confession.
Identity as fire in the hearth,
Bold.
Lying beneath me in the hands of those who tremble,
a pair of souls...
Dwindling within hellish realms,
seeking revenge...
believing in nothing.
A thundering birth enters,
the souls break from their suffocating shells, and
become as one.
Splotches of white form on faces,
and rippling from invalid lips...a cold black.
A pot, large in conformity,
gathers them in great gulps,
a combusts what was always
meant to be.
And so begins the revelation.


-Rain Poet

so angry.

so hated.

so alone.

-rain

The Revelation

Confession.
Identity as fire in the hearth,
Bold.
Lying beneath me in the hands of those who tremble,
a pair of souls...
Dwindling within hellish realms,
seaking revenge...
believing in nothing.
A thundering birth enters,
the souls break from their suffocating shells, and
become as one.
Splotches of white form on faces,
and rippling from invalid lips...a cold black.
A pot, large in conformity,
gathers them in great gulps,
a combusts what was always
meant to be.
And so begins the revelation.

-Rain Poet

what exists... exists... and what doesn't exist hasn't come into view of our minds... there is no one truth, only the millions of truths created by our own expression of securities and insecuries.

phew.

glad that's over!

She awoke with a gasp so drastic it might have bursted her lungs. Beads of sweat formed her entire body, causing her to glisten even in the dark. A whimper escaped from within ... a dream.

All just a dream.

You were beautiful that night
When the heart in the willow failed to beat
It was your favorite hiding place
The moon intruded the sun
and you cried out, "I'm here!
I'm alive!
I exist!"
Not even the stars would listen
not even time itself.
For you grew too swift,
a woman at ten...
An old crone at fifteen.    

In my hands
I hold
this war.
Now beat it,

victorious, vicorious, victorious

It defeats the anger,

I am soft.

~H2O~


Under and Thrashing


Flooding my form, crushing ribs


Poseidon, you hypocrite... aquatic devil


Last beat from within escapes my lips


If I don't breathe,


I'll never reach sixteen...


-Rain Poet 11:34 a.m.

She would have screamed louder, but by then her voice had already been swallowed by the strange buckle strapped about her small snout.
The creature squirmed inward and outward, her red eyes flooded with bright fear. She shook uncontrollably, as rabbits do often when helpless.
Where were her kin? Had she remembered to give them feed? Did they shiver as she does now, without the warmth of their mother?
The thing moving about in front of her was most peculiar, it made grunting noises and mumbled a foreign language from time to time, occasionally tossing aside metal instruments across the rather large table which reached around the whole room.
It had occurred to her earlier to wonder where she was. Though she didn’t know, she did think it to be a bad place. It was very cold, like the winter is when it blankets the earth’s skies and ground.

Smiles so feign
So secretly bruised
Inside threads tangle.

Actors all scream
The playwrite begins
Thrush the talent within.

Hush, hush
Boast of your gift
A delicate box in my hands

hush, hush
A delicate box in my hands

That I crush.

Time had been murdered
Upon her somber
As her lips formed colors of trembling
Lurid words stirred between blankets
Not a man but an essence had shivered against her fragile frame.

Where were the eyes of sapphire?
No azure to be found but a gaze of secret nightfall.
Guilt is a painful pleasure.

im so bored, people...im laughing at everyone and everything...*sobs*

I like chicken I like liver meow mix meow mix please deliver

If I were free,
would you run to me?

(You know who you are)