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The Birthday Massacre: Pins and needles
16/11/10 || Trauma
My love for him ran inches deep. Three to be exact, the size of his love crayon.
Were it not for the insatiable lust he thrust forth into my loins, I may have been able to live a normal life. At least, as normal a life a young teenage girl can live in these trying times. Before Edward, I felt for young boys as I do for days when my tampon strings hang through my laced black Tim Burton-embroidered panties. I certainly did not enjoy the laughter from the boys in the back.
“Hahah! There’s a short fuse on that one!”
Yes, boys and myself were not synonymous with lust or love or infatuation. But Edward…
He came out of nowhere one school day – the new kid. The boys in back were the first to make fun of him.
“Whoa, who let Marilyn Manson back into school?”
“Cut down on the powder and lipstick, you rainbow!”
“Is that a thimble in your pocket or are you happy to see Mr. Butts?”
Such animals. He began walking towards the vacant seat to my left, head hung low from the taunts. As I gazed into his deep green eyes beneath thick caked makeup I could sense a feeling of loneliness, like there was this void that carried on for miles until it reached an empty, hollow place where his soul once lay. As he sat down his knee-high boots made a slight squeak on the freshly waxed floors from summer break. He gently shook his head and waved the long front locks of his hair away from his sad, beautiful eyes.
As Mr. Butts began his lecture on the annals of Jean-Luc of Nancy, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He turned his head and our eyes met, those deep, penetrating circles of blackness held me in a trance.
“Confetti popper, eyes on me, the board, or your book! Mr… Edward Bar… Bartel… Bartleby, does not need your distractions when he’s already behind two weeks.”
“Meet me at the dumpster after class,” he says to me in the softest, sweetest timbre reminiscent of a cold autumns wind through a cracked window.
Before I could finish this story, I slit my wrists. Even more unfortunate, I failed and was rushed to the hospital where I have been put on anti-depressants and given Diazepam at regular intervals.
“Penis and nipples” is boring, dull, all kinds of uninteresting. Now, this lady Chimichanga has a good voice but she under-uses it to the nth degree. Absolutely no power at all. Let us not forget how fucken retarded they look, either. Rainbow, the omnipresent androgynous guitarist/keyboardist, steals his looks from Marilyn Manson. Seriously, go check out a photo. Original to the max, yo.
Stay away, unless you’re into uninteresting synth-laden half-metal.
- Information
- Released: 2010
- Label: Major
- Website: www.thebirthdaymassacre.com
- Band
- Chibi: vocals
- Rainbow: guitar
- M. Falcore: guitar
- Azuzu: bass
- That guy: keyboards
- This guy: drums
- Tracklist
- 01. In the dark (I fellate)
- 02. Always (gonna suck)
- 03. Pale (is how us goths roll)
- 04. Control (a dish best served on society)
- 05. Shallow grave (is where this album rests)
- 06. Sideways (I am fucked on the sofa)
- 07. Midnight (AKA lunchtime)
- 08. Pins and needles (metaphor for listening to this album)
- 09. Two hearts (makes a pair)
- 10. Sleepwalking (is when I piss on the pillows)
- 11. Secret (is my deodorant of choice)
