Demolition Man

will people PLEASE stop arguing with me (in real life) and trying to convince me I am gay?? I pulled a Misha Collins. I walked it back. I officially became the only man in Texas ever to come out as straight. So fucking believe me and leave me alone about it. I’m so repressed even if I was into men, I wouldn’t tell you!

also I realize ppl are gonna see this and argue with me about it, but uh, I’m just irritated rn…

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

Light a candle, don't say a prayer for me/Feel alone cause i’m gone

I’m sitting in first period– Algebra. (That’s) when I get the news. Junkie face down in an alleyway. I’ll never see her again. How could you do this to us?

She leaves and leaves. Time and time again. She then wants to come back. But this time there is no seat at the table. For we've all bandaged our hearts, Preemptively prepared for the bleeding. We gave all the time we had. And she took it. Took it and sold it for a cheap blow.

I'm sitting at home. Wondering about all my greatest fears when you tell me again. That fated phone call of the cops, to my uncle, To my grandparents, to my mom, who tells me. She's gone. (Again.) I've had to prepare for it a hundred times, Re-rehearsing my eulogy lines. I don't want her to die. But I know it's coming. The day you'll drop like a fly. And I don't want to be there when you make yourself die.

You've died a thousand deaths. All in my head I'm imagining the worst and sometimes I can't sleep at night. I toss and turn in my sweat stained bed. I don't want to wake up to the news that someone I love is gone. (It's twisted and impersonal- And it all feels wrong) I'm sitting in a pew. I've never liked church. But I'm praying for you. Just. Don't. Die. Please come back home. Don't spend the numbered days away from us. You don't deserve to die alone.

(Okay so, this is all fucked up. And I think I'm almost angry. Like I love her, and I don't wanna judge her, but this just feels like the end, and I'm not ready to lose someone else again. I just wanna see my cousin again. She doesn't deserve this shit. Nobody does. I'm just scared, and I don't know what to do. Maybe I'll start praying again.)

delor.

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

saw the post in the screenshot (inside of the screenshot) and it’s the time of year where family is all you have, so…

Shout out to everyone who’s ever perpetuated the “gay men are predatory” stereotype!! <3 You’re the reason I’m terrified to even make eye contact with another man and why I feel ashamed anytime I even think a guy is slightly good-looking. Congratulations on finally reaching peak Shit Person Status! Motherfucker. :D :D :D

•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.)

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.

A fuck-you to RFK;

An autistic person will never write a poem, so everything I’ve ever written doesn’t exist. It’s just shit. 

They will never play baseball, so my memories of playing a game with my friends don’t mean anything. I never played a game I loved, a game I was damn good at. It was all a figment of my wild imagination. 

They’ll never hold a job, so there are thousands of doctors and scientists and engineers who aren’t real to him. 

Autism destroys families, so no matter what mine says, they’re lying. They don’t love me. Rather than death or illness, my mind is what will ruin it all. Even though we’ve been happy for 17 years so far. 

It’s an individual tragedy as well, which must mean that me and my bestfriends’ lives are meaningless. A waste of space. Of oxygen. 

Fucking hell.

If RFK (a man stuck in ‘55) gets his way, this police state that we’re living in will just get worse. He wants to use his research to make eugenics America’s policy. That’s what “curing” autism is. There is no cure. There’s only death. Death that should never even be a possibility. A thought. 

No one should be persecuted, or have their genes “eliminated” from the gene pool because of some uneducated twat. He doesn’t get to decide who will be born. He doesn’t get to manufacture the next generation like this is some kind of fascist, Nazi regime. Even in the most clinically “severe” cases, an autistic person is far from stupid or helpless. They are We are people, like everyone else. And it’s not our fault he doesn’t know that. 

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