Latest Posts by xsuspencexkillsx - Page 2

Told myself I wouldn’t post before the thing I wrote for xmas, but here we are…

I think I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t know how to be. And it’s driving me fucking crazy. It’s only you. And when you’re venting at 7:32, telling me how much you just wanna die, I think I lose a part of myself. I’m listening to that band we both like, unromanticizing all the shit I used to dream about. This is your second favorite song by them. It’s my favorite cause it makes me think about you. I like your company. That’s all I can say without giving myself away. Cause if I was honest, I’d say step off the ledge. Why? Cause I fucking love you man. Maybe you don’t care (about me and/or you). Maybe you don’t even like me. But if you kill yourself, I don’t think I’ll ever really breathe in again. You’re the best friend I’ve (n)ever had. 

•Cinderella•

I would break my knuckles and bruise my knees just to hear your name. But you wouldn’t do the same for me cause you’re still in love with a boy who hurts you. [Something that I never could do to you.] I’d cough up my stomaches so you could have pure air in your burning lungs. I have a bullet with your name on it, so when it pierces through my heart, we’ll be together in my dying moment. I’ll wish for the song to slow down, and you’ll wish for it to be Thursday already. I’d give you whatever you wanted; my heart, my love, or my head on a platter. Anything that could make you smile, I’d be happy to tear from my body. But you wouldn’t even want me. When I hear about how they treat you, that’s the first thing that kills me. The second is that you’ve accepted it, that this is your life. The third charming thing is the fact that you'll never look at me the way I look at you. Your mother is cruel, and my father was wicked. We’re cut from the same cloth, two peas in a pod, born for each other. It’s written in every dying star just how much I love you. When I write shitty songs and practice even shittier chords, it’s you on my mind. [Always.] When we met you had red hair and crooked glasses. I was instantly drawn to you. [Like a moth to a flame.] You’re everything to me. Would you give me the time of day? Would you do whatever it takes? Would you kill for me? Would you burn the world to give me a light to sleep by? Would you go as far as I would? Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m manic. Maybe none of this means anything. The only truth I have is that if this was a fairytale, we would be the happy couple, riding off into a rose gold sun. But true love is a hoax and I’m writing to you like you’ll ever see this shit. If you let me, I’d be your prince. [Would you be mine?] No one else’s lips will ever be my one true love’s kiss. 

xoxo

--Spencer <3 (always yours.)

Demolition Man

I hate him.

(the chokehold this album has on me is crazy, man)

i’m in a winter mood, (i’m) dreamin’ of spring now

i miss sitting in the back of a pickup truck with my best friend. playing in the mud and making swords out of sticks. boys will be boys (until one of them’s a queer). We were like family until i came out was outed. if you read this i think you’d know who you are. cause you said i was your only friend and then spat in my face the next day. that awful day. all i wanted was for things to stay the same. all i want is my childhood back. please. my lips are bloody and my knuckles are bruised. i’m the same person i was back then, so why the hell don’t i mean the same thing i used to mean to you?

The wind is as cold as my feet tonight.

Outside on thanksgiving, in my grandparents back yard. I’m almost half as tall as the tree that once towered over me. I’m more comfortable here than I am inside. I like being alone better sometimes, when my head isn’t too loud. And I am grateful for many things. For him. For my best friend/the only girl I’ve ever loved. For my cat. For the cool windy air. For stolen, secret lunch-break kisses, and flirting with people I’ll never have. that the band that’s always been a part of me, might now actually work out someday. For my cousin. For the bands on the radio that got me this far. That I can express how I feel, even if it’s only in what I write. For all my friends, the people I know I can count on. That he’s still alive. I think the thing I’m most grateful for is that I’m still alive to experience the rare good things in my life. I held on long enough for that. And it would be a tragedy if I had died before finally being happy. Goodnight, I guess. (For once I think I mean that.)

with tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay/you said, “hey man, I love you, but no fucking way” or (kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face)

Sorry for professing my undying love for you. Can we go back to just being two dudes who flirt with each other in a really funny, totally one-hundred-percent platonic way? I’m sorry for telling you I thought you looked kissable tonight. When I first met you I fell hard. You’re the reason we got together and the reason we broke up. (Not really. That had more to do with being left on read for weeks.) When you don’t answer I get scared. I even started checking the obituaries by Day Four. I’ve never believed in anything as strongly as I believe you in you. This is love, and it’s bitter. It’s sour, and it’s awful, and it’s ugly, but I’ve felt it in my bones for two years now, so I know it won’t just go away. You’re the rhythm guitar in my heart. I asked you to join my band just so you’d always be there. Even if you can hardly play, you’re still my first choice. I want you with me for the rest of my life. I hope you don’t see this shit. I think I’d die. Well, this is the part where I admit I’m tired cause it’s two a.m. and I’m probably sick again. Goodnight. 

–S.S. (yours)

It’s not “americans” okay? There are some of us who are fucking devastated by this. I’m gay, and I have friends who are too. Some of the most important people in the world to me are Hispanic, female, and/or transgender. And I’m fucking terrified for them. I’m terrified for myself. So everyone saying “americans” suck and that they’re disgusted can go fuck themselves, cause I’m disgusted too. If you think people like me chose this, this is the last thing any of us wanted. And I have to go to school today and be surrounded by people who hate queer people and I have to hold it together. Cause I shouldn’t show emotion cause that’s “feminine” and “weak” and I’m already fucking gay so why would I add to that? There’s a pit in my stomach. And the way this works is I’m queer first, an American second, cause that’s what I’ll be given shit for. That’s what’ll matter when it comes down to it. Being american won’t protect me when they decide coming after trans people isn’t enough, that the whole LGBT community is a “problem”. The worst part is I had hope. I don’t know why, but I thought that maybe it wouldn’t turn out like this, and now I’m fucking heartbroken. 

Fuck my life. Nothing compares to the feeling of devastation that hit me when I woke up this morning. I can’t believe it. I won’t. The next four years are going to be fucking awful. How did this happen? I actually don’t know what I’m going to do now. I almost cried earlier. I couldn’t shower. I could barely eat. I can hardly process this. I just can’t. I can’t do this. 

best friends, ex-friends ‘til the end. better off as lovers (not the other way around.)

You get out of the hospital again. I’ve been worried sick. I’ve left you a dozen messages. What do you do? Do you call? Text? Tell me you’re home safe? No, you go to fucking Disneyworld while I’m worried sick, scared that the man I love is hurting. Scared that you might never come home. So I can’t forgive you for this. Not that you’ll apologize anyway. I spill my guts to you, I tell you the hell I’ve gone through, and you only acknowledge our two-month anniversary. I tell you everything hurts and you recite lyrics from a 2010 radio hit. You tell me you love me and it feels hollow and empty. 

Maybe your mom is controlling, but you’re the one who won’t make any efforts to see me. I’d walk through hell for you, and you won’t even call me back. I’m not even tired of your shit like I was before. I’m just angry. You’re so distant I can’t even get you on the phone to tell you I don’t think this will work out. Better off as friends, that’s how I’ll put it. But the truth is worse, because it’s true that truth hurts. You can’t even care enough to get up off your ass and do something, anything to get to see me. And I can’t be the only person in this relationship willing to do everything. I hate your favorite color and your favorite singer now. I hate your stupid, pretty face and your last name. I hate your bleached hair and hazel eyes. I hate the way I look at you. I hate that it hurts so much to say goodbye. I hate that it hurts so much to love you. 

I’m 99% sure these are all mine. The one percent is the NASA photo (I’ve been there but I can’t remember if I took it.)

I did the blackout poem and the drawings. The sheet ghost is me as a kid. The pigeons are from when I was in Vegas. That was great. I don’t see pigeons very often. They’re one of my favorite animals. Also my hand is there with my fall out boy bracelet.

@youreyesaremyfavoritecolor tagged me, so shoutout to them <3 (you’re awesome and this made me actually do something today)

‘‘Get Busy Living (In The Purgatory Of Your Real Life)’’

Once upon a time, I was a young boy. Born under a nighttime haze. With skin of stardust and tears like burning oil. A soul so bright nothing could damper it.

Now my soul is full of pallor. And my skin is grey. I have memories formed of the harshest sunlit days and the coldest moonshine nights. I could only grow into the threadbare skin they gave me.

~

I think back to nothing fond at all. These days the darkest parts of my brain are put together like a jigsaw puzzle filled with missing pieces and misplaced optimism. 

He is my only light. A boy just like me but infinitely more perfect. Beautiful, confident, sewn together with golden threads. Clean and pure. The antithesis of everything I've become.

‘’Get busy living’’, they tell me. But how am I supposed to live if he's not here to pave the trail ahead of me with his golden, elegant glow? You’d understand if you ever stood in the full glory of his love. Without him, it's not living, not really. It’s only a day-by-day slideshow, built to exist and li[v]e. 

~

I pale in comparison to all that he is. (He is the best part of me.) My blood is motor oil and my scars are rust. My features are burns against untainted, snow white flesh. I was made for the purpose of art, yet I have become what I always feared was the ugliest part of me. 

My soul is corrosive. It’s eating me from the inside out. Bones break and hearts shatter. But I’ll serve my broken body on a silver platter, in the hopes that he will take me as I am. That he will accept what little I have to offer.

~

He’s made me that boy again. The person I lost over the years. (Could I finally start to live?) The sky is full once more, lit up with the light of ten thousand galaxies. He is the man in the moon, watching over me even when he's not standing beside me.

~

My heart beats in time again. The stars align and I’m given back the matches that gave me that flicker to begin with. A small fire starts up in my ribcage, and I think that maybe I’ll have a bright light leading my way once again. Something to keep me warm and to give my soul back its glow. Stardust skin and the feeling that I’ll never be alone

For My Father

For you, my Father, if you came back, I would leave something cooking on the stove. I’d let the smell fill the house so it’d be like you were here, making dinner while I watched cartoons. I would take the sweaty, stinky, athletic clothes you used to wear running and leave them in annoying places so Mom would lecture you the way she always did. It would be like you never left. We would still be a family. 

When you come home, I would buy the things you liked to eat. I’d put things on our table for you, like the odd-smelling ‘’healthy’’ foods, the gluten free bread that always tasted like sand, and the fig newtons that always made me think of you. I would hear the sound of you opening the door again. Coming home from work, you always greeted us with a smile, even though sometimes, even as a child, I could tell it wasn't real.

I’d leave your blue and green, size thirteen running shoes by the door for you. You could put them on and go for a run around the neighborhood like you used to. Then you’d come back home and spend the evening with us. We would sit and talk, just to be father and son again. I’d set aside everything you ever did if it meant I could get closure one last time. You’d tell me and mom that you always loved us, and all the bad things never mattered. I’d look at your crow’s feet, and see my own eyes staring back at me. I’d see myself in you, an older version of me, but still one in the same. Those same brown eyes.

When you died, I was young enough that I still called you Daddy. Now the memories are distant like you were and I call you ‘my Father’, but if you came back, I’d call you Dad, for old times sake. I’d let you hug me, and we could pretend we were a perfect, happy family. God knows we were far from it, but nobody ever died trying (except maybe you.) 

I’ll tell you who I am now, what my life is like. I hope you’ll say you were proud of me. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ve managed this long without you. I think I can manage the rest of my life. I’m resilient. I get that from you. So, when the day is done, you’ll go back into the ground you came from, and I’ll be okay. After all, I’m still your son, no matter how much I wish I wasn’t some of these days. Just know that you can rest now. It will all be okay. Goodnight, Dad.

delor.

the world is my stage and im blundering my way through a closed-curtain performance. a close call, set to halftime.

By Sibil George photography

stuff about me

last song-  cute without the e by taking back sunday 

favorite color- I like purple and black 

last book- loki agent of Asgard comics. not really a book but it’s the last thing I read

last movie- probably smth science fiction related? Or marvel I don’t remember 

last tv show- Good Omens <3 <3 <3 I’m absolutely obsessed with this show now

sweet/spicy/savory- why not all three?

relationship status- I’m in one. It’s not going well and that’s not rlly either of our faults but it still sucks right now

last thing i googled- will and grace cast

current obsession- ^ Good omens/aziracrow. I love them. I need season three like yesterday

looking forward to- getting over this cold so I can go back outside, see my friends, and just do stuff ig

thanks fr tagging me @youreyesaremyfavoritecolor this was fun :D

WWWY

On my way to When We Were Young fest. I can’t wait to scream along to the songs that honestly saved my life when I was at my lowest. Music has always been there for me when shit got tough. 

A picture from my flight. There’s so many clouds in the sky. The view is beautiful in an ethereal sort of way. I want to jump from the plane and fall further and further through the clouds. I want them to become tangible, to hold and cradle me, to lift my head up and make me feel at peace. Make me feel alive. 

Taking off, as I watched the city become smaller and smaller, I had a strange sense of nostalgia. I remember the first time I overcame my fear of flying. I was a small child and the thought of being thousands of feet in the air terrified me. But when I finally allowed myself to get on a plane, I was struck by how beautifully insignificant the world seems when you’re drifting through the clouds. When your feet are no longer on the ground and your whole body feels like it’s floating. That’s when the reality of life is the most vivid. When thoughts are the most constructed and careful. I love the view of life from the this vantage point. It’s amazing. 

The moutains of Las Vegas. I think they speak for themselves. I’m fuckin pumped for tomorrow. Really hope I can sleep tonight. 

Internalized homophobia 

One of my friends recently confessed That he felt like he was going to hell  For who he loved and who he undressed.

He told me he didn’t know what the Bible said That he didn’t want to offend Me, but all I could do was feel sad for him For I know what it’s like to hate who you are, To hate yourself To want so badly to just be someone else.

Sometimes I still feel the weight in the back of my mind Like a ball and chain, dragging me down Suffering and shame, white out over my free name Replaced by freak, sinner, faggot, ashamed Some days I still think I might drown.

Hallelujah, hallelujah Doesn’t mean anything to me Anymore, I can’t know if I believe  Because the religion tells me love is a sin And if I’m a sinner for love, heaven Is never anything I want to get in To, not today or tomorrow  For to lose my love would be  The greatest shame and/or sorrow.

This is who we are, for forever We can’t change how we feel Not even in the passing days All we have is the thought of holding it together I don’t know how to put this any better, But I believe that it’s never getting any better.

One of my friends recently confessed That he felt like he was going to hell  And all I wanted was to tell Him, that love should never be forbidden That he’s too young to live with his heart hidden Away from the world The way that I felt When I was fourteen years old.

‘If you’re the only one who knows the truth, only you can hurt yourself’

The city is endless and it is dark.  When there’s nowhere left for me to run,  the city holds me in its arms.  All I’ve ever asked of it was for a ‘’safe place’’ to fall apart. Drowning in the reservoir,  if I go too deep into my mind.  An optical illusion you can only see  if you’re on the inside (---in on the joke.) Ha ha ha. Laughing at me, a thousand smiling faces— a thousand more memories. There’s something hiding in the shadows,  in a corner.  In my closet,  behind a shelf.  This is why  I keep all the mirrors locked up. It can't hurt you if its not really there Scratch it out, scratch it out, scratch it— The record skips again, passing me over  for the eight thousand, six hundred, and forty ninth time. All I want is.. a second chance? A do over–again and again, Like an infinite loop inside my messed up head. ‘’Don't you think you'd be better off like the living dead?’’ Paranoia follows in my footsteps, A stalker in the night. He can never hope to catch up to me. I live in his house in the daylight. When the sun sets I sleep in the crowded streets. Begging for scraps of meat. Won't you grant me a sweet relief? I promise I’ll stay by your side,  day and night.  Like the hound that haunts you/Is this  what it feels like to know  Nobody wants you?