nail polish and car crashes

{ messy messy messy}

hello, scum of the earth :D 

it's me your fellow friend and favorite blogger.. lol (play 505 by artic monkey brought to you by the rugrats new playlist for Friday night)

emotional/off-topic update: mad that I have an identity crisis and constantly change my passwords because now I can't get into anything D: (UPDATE IM BACK IN AND CAN NOW LISTEN TO KATELYNN UPDATED PLAYLIST) I painted my nails two different colors today. I think people who wear two different colors on two different hands are so cool because then that way they can easily switch between their alter egos and it always confuses people at first. I use to also have two different nail shapes and lengths but that was mainly because I was trying to learn guitar.... 

the only really special memories I have with my dad was when he painted my 8-year-old fingernails black.  I saved up my allowance for 3 weeks just so I could sneak a bottle of licorice polish back to my room. I stared at it for months before I finally got the courage to ask him. I had never seen that man more engrossed in my existence each stroke of the brush seemed to have been perfectly orchestrated. when he finished crafting my small fingernails he just looked and smiled and apologized for any imperfects. I was so euphoric from this simple act of rebellious care, I bombed a hill on my red razor scooter straight into a bush... and I fucked up my nails completely. 

I think that's the best way to describe myself, taking a perfect uncoordinated moment and running into a fucking bush. speaking of running into things, I almost killed peachy divichi by almost driving straight into a car. My brain tangled itself into believing that the perfect sunset and perfectly placed white car was just a mirrored image of myself. I usually get off to near-death experiences and the unholy secrets people say right before their unpredictable death, I think its due to the fact they have no control at all if they live, if i turn to fast or merge into a semi, they can't stop it, all they can do is sit and accept. (not saying I try to kill my fellow passengers, just most of the time their dramatic af and don't think I will break.. actually nvm someone should take my licenses away) im a secret believer in old wives' tales, meaning I hold my breath every time I go under a tunnel; which is every day, I never look back when I see a truck of hay, repeating words is always a sign, red flags are based on favorite colors, and I believe white lighters are the source of all of my trauma. yet for the first time I didn't fear the person holding it, and at that moment, the lighter was just a lighter, and the truck was just a truck and all the tunnel ever did for me was kept me quiet enough to hear the pounding in my chest from the lack of oxygen. learning to be unscared is a difficult task when nobody in the room knows your fallacy fears, yet accepting you can't change a 1,000-pound vehicle from hitting a wall when your sitting in the passenger seat is the most heartbreaking but prevailing thing a person can do. because in the end no fable tale or angel number can help prevent what is already coming. 

{i know that doesn't make much sense, but again I stated in my first blog that I wasn't here to make sense lol}

xoxoxoxooxooxox katbird02

theme:GOTHGOTHGOTH

 BUNNY GONE MISSING -

took easter bunny pictures without the easter bunny... there's a certain type of bad bitch energy, that rushes through your body when you are standing in a crowd of identical people and each and every wandering eye can't help but stare. I think the fact that i can make someone so uncomfortable with my forceful appearance is so god-like. i use to watch my parent's and elders' days be ruined by a stranger simply existing in the way they want to be seen and i knew i wanted to be able to hold that fearful control.  I won't lie tho and say i don't get insecure by all the judging eyes. i mean its scary, being surrounded by people who are disgusted by your persona, yet at least i know that at the end of the night, it all washes off, and tomorrow, they will have to be the same fucking person over and over again until they die. which is completely terrifying... It also helps when a cute lil grandma comes up to you and tells you and your friends that were beautiful <3 i love that grandma so much!!! she definitely one of those new age/hip grandmas trapped in the labyrinth known as Scottsdale. 

Its only 5 and im most likely going out again tonight.. might draft this and add more but idk.. check back if you care -your favorite blogger katbird/papercutkneecaps/ivebeenthinkingaboutthecirclekworker 

update: went to a really cool open mic with Chloe, which was like watching a Tumblr girl rejecting the society she belongs in.. it was absolutely beautiful then I received a message on Instagram asking for feet pictures, I probably should be bothered by the fact he knows my name and the state I live in.. but it was honestly pretty funny.. I post one picture of my torn-up ankles and that's what i get..lol 

 seeing best gore before porn:

they always look for the same thing

the moment the eyes widened 

the sudden gasp

 at the sight of bodies being sliced like rubber

the contortions of body parts

sticking out of bricks and couch seats

he explains how he wants me that way

back folded over blood-filled bathtubs

pruned fingertips that soak into a herbal tea

the scent of decaying flesh and my honeysuckle perfume

that lingered around his erotic fantasy 

doctors missing glove:

the tiles tremble with a bone-chilling aura

the scrubs beginning to slip from the weight of unsolicited letters  

padding the sides of where a waistband once lived

his hands glide over the marks like they were powder sand 

surrounding the coast of the beach house he uses to visit

removing the scarf of badges that surrounded my every shrinking neck

muttering repeatedly "beautiful junkie"

showing my gift of making quiet mute men speak

the trade made between patient and doctor was two pieces of nicotine gum  that soaked under my tongue

he traded morals for my time 

trying to diagnose the blithe child before him

questioning every inch of my crafted persona 

and attempting to take notes 

his jealousy seemed to wane in and out of stories

the way they always did

when men were only men in them

his green-eyed hatred choked the room at the sight of another man's name etched into my left wrist

bewitched at his finding of the loved bombing letters 

that tried to hide in the midst of my strip search

how stupid it is to love the uncompassionate soul he states

as he allows the irony that slowly consumed his already corrupt throat.

demons dressed a bugs: a theory from a friend

i walk around like a centipede with bodies i did not want to collect 

they intertwined between each relationship as they push and pull for each of my limbs 

trying to deni my existing soul

i know i feed them, gave them air to breathe

gave them memory without having to speak their name into existence

as they continued to crawl all over me

these bugs, these insects, and their attaching limbs.

i found them in hallway closets, bed bug-filled couches, and beach houses.

i didn't ask them to stay, but i didn't know how to ask them to leave

allowed them to nest in my brain

make one with my being 

held together underwater with no fear of drowning 

we are only just ants, insects, desperate to prove our existence to the hollow rock we crawl over

hehe- um here are some stuff i wrote a couple months ago... almost all written at 3 am and created in a failed attempt of trying to explain myself.. yeah.. lolz <3 for my friends and therapist 

dog with a blog was a scam:

 every high school band writes a song about a dog-

Whenever questioned about my deepest darkest intrusive thoughts, the same concept runs across my shrinking brain, I don't understand how people are so fantasized about dogs. Yet, I respond with the fact i think that serial killers exist for the greater good. due to the fact, I know the outcome of stating any dog slander. 

You can practically get anyone to pity you by uttering a few sad sob stories about a dog. in my sophomore year of high school, I sobbed my way out of three exams after expressing my grieve for a dog I lost five years ago, yet I was refused anytime off when consoling about the death of a friend I once loved. It may be the idea that the simple four-legged creature embodies our standers of "purity", yet one would think the concept of purity is a child, completely unfazed by the harm of society that will one day bestowed upon them. 

then again I have also seen grown men whimper over a dog yet completely dehumanize and hurt innocent children... so maybe my theory is off and dogs are purer than children.. which may actually be caused by the growing abase of human nature.. I don't know

also I like dogs, and animals, I just don't understand why the relationship between a dog and a human is the most "powerful" relationship.. I swear I don't hate dogs, I'm not a cat person either, idk my mom thinks I'm un-empathic... I mean I'm just a bunny owner.. what do I know!

calling all of the bottom dwellers...

 Welcome, 

i guess..

I've been banned from almost all of my blogs so hopefully this shit will last longer than a teenage boy losing his virginity. 

fun facts about me, i was burned at the stake in 1896 and im related a person named infant moon, i have no intent on making any sense and honestly just want to make a whole page dedicated to my dying god complex. 

currently listening to M83's midnight city and questioning everyones morals.

i cant spell, dance, or make good salsa

xoxo katbird/papercutkneecaps/shutthefuckup 

wore this random collection of goblin clothes to a graffiti gallery

which was oddly complex due to the fact you had to sit on skate boards and slide down the abandon sewer (the beer by kimya dawson)

thanks for coming to my ted talk losers