some of this crossposted onto my poetry tumblr

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untitled [it's not what you think it is] [written december 26th, 2023]

i need it louderlouderlouder!!!! i need to break my eardrums to feel normal again!!!! or normally abnormal whatever the fuck! need it in my BLOODSTREAM wash out all the gross shit. pete wentz coming to me like an emo angel from above like "here have this album from 2005" and i'm like "break me with it pls"... and i need sugar and sex and that sweet, sweet feeling of doing something i shouldn’t!!!! i need to feel fucking ALIVEE i’m SICK OF BEING SO NUMB! I’M SICK OF THE WORLD TURNING AROUND ME! I WANNA MAKE IT TURN! SOMEONE PUNCH ME IN THE FACE QUICK CMON!
gooooooddddddddddddd why is everything i want so different from what everyone around me does!!!!!!! i feel like i’m stuck in one of the nso endings where everything fucking goes wrong. whoops affection + mental darkness too high ame-chan is chugging soda and having a breakdown to a shitty emo album! give me attention give me electricity give me rebel red give me too much mtv give me SOMETHING ANYTHING I’LL TAKE IT ALL!
my trigger finger’s twitchy but there’s nothing to shoot, they’re all aimed at me!!!!! the man behind this pen’s really not having a good one. too grey to be black & white but too colorful to be grey, too manic to be depressed but i’m still stuck on cork tree... i really need to stop living life on the edge but at the same time i wanna start! maybe i just wanna jump back and forth over the line, learn to tightrope on it, even! something! anything! too unstable for the stability i crave! [too emo to speak like a normal person! BANGBANG.]
but no one even knows i’m there and when they do i’m either too much or too little! i never change! i never change! i can’t change! i can’t fucking handle change in the first place! and i crave it anyway. i’ll throw my whole life out the window and think about the consequences later. i’d throw myself out a window but it’s too high up. defenestration, n; the action of throwing someone out of a window; the action of dismissing someone from a position of power or authority. or is it a verb? hey, it’s not my fault everything i used to be got thrown out a window too! [sorry, serenity.]
"i'm thinking of a number between 11 and, uh, 25..."
you're a poet because everything’s gotta have a smokescreen, right? if it was in front of their faces they’d call you insane. you are insane. people don’t like insane people. you like insane people. no one ever wants what you want. we’re back to the core problem. it’s all performance art, right? laugh at the jester! make this worth something! what do i have to do to make my words clear? what do i have to do to make this worth it? none of this is fucking worth it yet! it's never been worth it!
do not open before christmas... well i hate to tell ya, wentz, it’s boxing day and the cat’s out of the bag. and it’s scratching everyone up. and i don’t wanna blame you because it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault! some things can’t be helped! like me. maybe i doomed my own narrative. maybe you're not even what set it off. maybe this was a long time coming... maybe i'm calling me you again and maybe i'm not. maybe it's both. maybe maybe doesn't look like a word anymore. maybe nothing looks real.
i used to waste my time waste my time waste my time and now i want to be ALIVE! it’s all full circle time is a circle time is a spiral and it’s spiraling spiraling spiraling in on me! everything in threes! three two one and we’re off! logging off! i need to log off.
i haven't been alive in a long time. which is the real real real problem underneath all the other real problems.
the cold never used to bother me! freeze me to death and let me feel somethingfeelsomethingfeelsomething! let me die in agony! i’ll just come back! i’ll come back! i don’t wanna come back but i fucking doomed myself to this! and i know i’m gonna be okay in the morning but that’s the problem! delayed gratification has never been my thing, i’m checking my email every five seconds and stressing when there’s nothing. my brain autofills the rest of my life to be just like this exact second. i don’t wanna wait.
and i could just become a buddhist but i know they’re lying, i’d rather be a sinner if peace of mind would ever give me real peace. it won’t. it never would and it never could. nothing ever could, can, will. except maybe music.
and that’s the real reason i’m in this cycle, isn’t it? make something make something make something, sing your heart out until your throat bleeds with the effort and play something with it until your hands bleed too, find them all over again and bleed bleed bleed, i'm open like a wound. is it self harm if it’s creating something just as beautiful? is it always bad to bleed if the bleeding’s metaphorical? although i guess we’re a bit past the point where the blood’s metaphorical- my lungs are scabbed up and it just makes the songs prettier. but everything’s out of reach everything’s out of reach everything’s out of reach. i’ve got a guitar and no way to even try and play it. i wanna be loud. i need to get this out of my head. i need it to work right first, but it’s too clogged up with all the stuff i’m trying to get out of it. another loop. another problem.
it’s not like i wanna cut myself, more like i want someone to break my nose. it’s not self harm so much as it is masochism. because i really don’t think self harm and self destruction are the same thing! definitely overlapping, but they exist for very different reasons. and i am definitely of the latter camp. at least i still have enough self preservation left to stop me from being self destructive? it’s really not much.
this isn’t really an issue so much as it is a symptom of one, i think, because it’s a weird kind of way at looking at my own psyche, isn’t it? staring it in the eye and going “you’re just a ripoff hatsune miku” and it looks back at me and goes “no i’m a ripoff gerard way” and we're both right.
i really need to stop posting.

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seeing stars [written december 5th, 2024]

i had a migraine in your hoodie over the boy you wanted me to ignore for you. he gave me the painkillers to drag me out of it. i'm a n-n-nervous wreck and i'm never gonna change, my first response is always violence. trigger-happy diagnosis. i'm a fake poet, i don't know my shit. i don't know why i can't stop writing about you, i hate feeling like this. i hate being vulnerable. i can't get enough in my system because i keep trying to get something out of it. you want a boy who writes poetry about you? i'm the twisted version of everyone's dream boy, cross out my eyes with lime green lipstick [tell me to get lost while you're at it] and throw me in the ground next to serenity. i wish i could believe you were my savior. you're what killed me. at this rate, i feel like you're gonna do it again. wake up and do it all over again. a prophet, a puppet.... he'll be home in 20 minutes and he'll treat me better than any of you fuckers ever did. i keep telling myself that like it'll make the fact i still care about you better. i'm losing my mind and it's only a fucking thursday. i need to get the week over already.
me and pete, in the wake of saturday....

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cross emoji dot jpeg [written december 25th, 2024]

lord, grant me the strength to cut a bitch, the courage to wield the knife, and the wisdom to know when to stop stabbing.
i've never been one for organized religion, but the stress you cause me makes me wish i was. all of this just makes me wish i went all the way, that i couldn't fall in love, that i couldn't need another being this badly. i'm cold like the snow pouring down in chicago, burning up in my head like the sun beating down on me in fayetteville. i wish the light would put itself out, let me sleep in a little longer so i'd have an excuse not to talk to anyone. i don't think it's angled. you sure seem to. i can't remember anymore when time was on our side, can't spot the burn mark on my leg. couldn't do anything if i tried. i tried rejecting idols, but you still make me motion sick. my basement under the hill, the worst nights of my life, she ran away and left me dying and i didn't tell anyone for a week. i thought she was still out there. i would've taken her place in the pouring rain in a heartbeat. he didn't talk to me for that whole year. you didn't know me yet. i wish you'd stayed that way, for my sake and certainly not for yours, but that wouldn't be my problem, would it? raspberry slush sinuses, fireball and adderall, burn down the house before she catches on. i wish i still knew how to mind my own business. a building can be a yule log if you try hard and believe in yourself. one of my thirteen wishes is gonna end up a thirteenth reason. i don't want any of you to get worse. i feel like you're all a bit far gone. honey, she's good as gone.
i think now's when i tell you i'm dropping out.