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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. 

The body of Christ as a symbol of self-punishment. (or, stigmata)

I’m a seven year old boy’s little green toy soldier, crushed and broken under the weight of his father’s work boots. I’ve fought in a thousand wars. I flinch at the sound of rough hands. God has forsaken me, even in my dying breath. Maybe my prayers never work, not because he can’t hear me, but because he chooses not to. Because he hates what I am. He despises me, yet I amuse him. I am The Divine’s favorite plaything. I’m made of duct tape and scars. It’s a vicious cycle of patching myself up, and falling apart. Nobody hears me beg. Nobody listens to my pleas. I cry out once for every punishing lash of the belt.

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. 

I miss my Coke Zero so much 😩.. why don’t I have any 😿‼️what the fucj !!!

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.

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?

I’m the type of guy to gaslight myself into being straight . I know this because unfortunately I’ve done it 7301965 times and it hasn’t worked any of them..

delor.

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

I’m gonna be honest, chief, that was the most punk thing I’ve seen from an artist in a long time

•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.)