Marceline

Brendon Urie’s bitch ex wife I’m also apperantly a mouse 🐁 🖤 @pwtattoos 🖤

[marcelinedascenequeen]

TITLE: Pallid Skies And Hemlock Undergrowth (revised)

BY: Me!

I’d roamed these plains for a million years,

A million more I’ll roam.

My feet step upon the cracked, rotten soil,

 Weaved with nails and tacks to foil.

Though finding a foot to thrust is the hardest part;

 Trudging forward — toward no goal, no start.

The porous eyes witness self-inflicted ruin:

 A dust-filled meat sack am I, undoing.

The ears hold record of broken breaths;

 A shattered soul am I, bound by deaths.

The nose services scents of vomit and viscera;

 A vile being am I, drifting nearer.

My mirror cannot bear to withhold mine image;

 It cannot help but shatter when in view, a vintage.

No animal or man may exist without toil;

 A lesson I’ve more than learned on this soil.

My yellow lungs bleed for your release.

My black tongue spits inhuman cries,

 Words twisted, darkened, as my body dies.

My green frame doth crumple into that familiar nothingness,

 Dreaming empty visions of finality —

 Unattainable in nature, endless in abyss.

Be it fields in Carcosa or flames of Hell,

 I could not care less, nor wish to dwell.

For what difference would it make,

 As the outcome is all the same, opaque.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi, I’m Marcie, the one that’s been writing all these poems! This specific work was a poem I wrote a few months ago, but never felt happy with. Now, after a lengthy re-work, I believe it’s possibly my best work to date! Here’s the original poem for reference…

TITLE: Pallid Skies And Hemlock Undergrowth (original)

BY: Me!

I’d roamed these plains for a million years and I’ll roam them a million more

Though battered be my mangled flesh, I trudge along

Finding a foot to thrust forward upon the cracked soil is the hardest part

The eyes bear witness to my self-inflicted ruin, every bone turned to dust

The ears take record of my broken breaths, pained be my moans for my ribs are shattered

The nose weaves together scents of vomit and viscera, caked onto my severed cranium

The mouth tastes a volatile mixture of my humors four, imbalanced and unchecked

My mirror couldn’t bear to withhold mine image, and shatters when in view

No animal or man may roam with me for I am alone

A perfect definition of “alone” be my environment

Where art thou, mine love?

My yellow lungs bleed for your release

My black tongue spits inhuman cries

My green frame crumples into that familiar nothingness

[marcelinedascenequeen]

jarvis show me this guys appendix

[freusan]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE QUEEN, Yuka Iguchi!!

She voices my favorite bird and flying squirrel: Tsukihi Araragi from the Monogatari Series and Momonga from Chiikawa!

[marcelinedascenequeen]

11 days late please forgive me yuka 😢

[noaempanada]

[archiveloves]

"panic at the disco", 2006

[marcelinedascenequeen]

happy birthday to my two favorite things...

live in denver and momonga!

[marciesbf]

my 16th wont be as scary as i thought it would be at 13

maybe because i found someone thatll love me past 16

maybe because i found someone stable

maybe because i found someone thats safe

maybe because i found someone i can be more little with, without being taken advantage of

maybe because i found someone i trust with my heart, and soul

maybe because i found someone so beautiful, and so kind that loves me no matter what

maybe because i found someone that calms me down during episodes, and splits

maybe because i found someone who will hold me tight, and not shame me for needing a stuffed animal

maybe because i found someone

and her names Marceline.

my ladybug

[milo03c]

[marcelinedascenequeen]

i love horror more than any other genre of media but i hate how it works

really all forms of anything

on your first watch (if the movie is good) its terrifying and leaves you with that specific taste in your mouth

the kind that makes you think twice before turning off the lights

the kind that makes you jump into bed to avoid getting grabbed from underneath

but the second watch brings clarity and a feeling of preparedness

you know what happens and you remember all the scares

and what had been petrifying just a moment ago is now mundane and unassuming

take for example the short film "possibly in michigan"

on first watch it was so unnerving and tense

it made me feel uneasy at all times even before the reveal of the cannibal

but he was something else all together, his gaping wide mouth and stiff movements

but on my second watch? poof!

all that uneasyness was gone with the wind

the scares didnt hit and all the dread i felt from the short's main attraction no longer felt uncanny

i was miserable as the short had filled me with something i hadnt felt in quite a while

i hope the same wont happen with obsession

ill be watching it for a second time tomorrow

it was one of the scariest movies ive ever seen in theaters and i hope it stays that way

it truly hit me in a way that i cant explain but after my first watch it was on my brain for weeks

im hoping that the second watch clarity will allow me to enjoy the movie more but not take away from the horror

i dont say all of this as a "god my mind is so dark and twisted i dont even get scared" its that after a while things are just no longer scary unless revitalized and seen under a different lense, though the same can lead to the opposite as well

seeing one specific scene in a plethora of dofferent ways will output wildly different reactions

when viewed correctly, even a scene from a kids show could be "scary"

in my opinion, jumping in blind to a story helps me really feel everything, rather than view it

i just long for a sense of terror and true dread

not musical stings and jumpscares

i want true, unerving, uncanny, disorienting, jarring, and harsh horror that challanges my understanding of the genre as a whole no matter the medium

gonjiam and obsession did that for me

both incredibly tense and scary but incredibky different in every other aspect

though ive watched gonjiam more and that terror i felt during the most powerful scenes were gone, in place of awe in how perfect they are in execution

my first watch of obsession was so visceral and real but i know tomorrow i will feel the same as when i watched gonjiam, although obviously not as much

just a profound appreciation for the flawless craft

this is to me incredibly discouraging 

knowing that ill never be able to get the same amount of satisfaction from a horror project twice fills me with a deep saddness

being scared from a fictional piece is for whatever reason, incredibly rewarding

i dont exactly know what that says about me but i digress

the euphoria i get from terror causes me to chase it more as would anyone with something that brings them joy

i consume everything i can and before i know it, ive seen it all

i can pretend all i want that its still scary

and by definition it is

but it just cant punch me in the gut the same way

something can only be scary 1-3 times before its novelty fades

so i must learn to appreciate that feeling while im still watching something new as i know something that good wont come for a while

if there was a machine that could remove all memories of a movie after you watched it i would use it in a heartbeat and watch gonjiam again

possibly in michigan too

its so strange and unsettling i cant get enough of it

but the more i seek it the less in apears

new experiences are getting harder and harder to uncover

and even when you do, just know that happiness is limited

as the minute the credits roll, the movie begins its second phase, its half-life if you will

you sit with it and chew on it for as long as it entertains you

and then spit it back out and move on

quite a depressing reality i know

not to be a doomer but on occasion i truly wonder what the point even was

whats the point in killing myself searching for interesting horror when its becoming so uncommon these days

whats good is buried by whats popular

a movie that truly entertains me is something incredibly special to me, and unlike chiikawa or house or adventure time, horror fades

but my love for the franchises and ips i love dont

[marcelinedascenequeen]

all roads lead to papa meat, creep cast, the librarian, or chad chad

[marcelinedascenequeen]

did you guys see that 👀

[marcelinedascenequeen]

He always stayed on the outside.

I guess not today.

Down my zipper goes,

His finger hooking the hem.

I just close my eyes and cry,

My body frozen solid.

Up,

And down.

Over,

And over again.

He says I like it.

I tell myself it's true,

To stomach the pain.

[marcelinedascenequeen]

Nothing’s ever real.

Or is it?

Those eyes peering through the glass,

static and unblinking

in the inky night.

My room is on the second floor.

That’s sort of strange.

I could’ve sworn I locked the window.

I did.

But it’s open.

The lock was never that good anyway.

Best to just sleep it off.

My therapist told me

it’s all in my head.

Just imaginary.

But my imagination

doesn’t make me wake up

in different clothes.

Does it?

Mama said I’d be insane

if I saw those things.

Maybe she’s right.

I hope I’m not crazy.

I wouldn’t do well in a ward.

But the knocking won’t stop.

I wonder who it is.

[marcelinedascenequeen]

I’d already begun tugging

at the hem of my pajama pants.

I knew what they’d ask.

Yes, I’m up.

Sure, just gimme a minute.

Why they bother

with playing coy

I’ll never know.

I could stop if I wanted to.

I think.

But they needed me.

Needed my help.

Only I could make it better.

Only I can soften the stone.

It’s my responsibility.

I must.

Flash on.

Pants off.

Then it’s all said and done.

Validation was on the way.

Sent.

Read.

Saved.

[marcelinedascenequeen]

It’s a little difficult to get up,

knowing what waits for me

outside of bed.

But today is different.

I feel it in the air.

So I wait at my stop

optimistically.

Maybe he’ll stay home today.

Though when the doors open,

I’m proven wrong.

I resign myself to my fate.

His presence settles beside me

like it always does.

I look out the window,

watching the world turn

as mine crumbles.

Day after day.

Bolder every time.

Hand stuffed in my pants today,

Tomorrow theyre halfway down my thighs.

Leaving me exposed;

Maybe he'll finish early.

I pray nobody sees.

That nobody notices.

That nobody asks.

Then we arrive.

I gather myself

and start my day.

Knowing when it’s over,

I’ll have to come back.

[marcelinedascenequeen]

EVERYTHING I COULDN'T FORGET

ONE-

It was late at night.

We were just kids.

We lay awake in our tent,

shrouded by perfect darkness.

He turned to me,

inching closer.

Distracted by my own thoughts,

I pay no mind to his shuffling.

Our sleeping bags make contact;

before I know it, he kneels before me.

His shirt untucked,

his pants unzipped.

I do what I’m told,

afraid and confused.

I think maybe it’s all a dream,

but dreams don’t taste like this.

Without warning, he erupts;

something thick pours down my throat.

I blink, and he’s moved on top of me,

our uniforms gone with the wind.

My mind fails to understand what’s happening;

Mama told me this only happens to girls.

He breaches what’s not meant for him,

lighting my insides ablaze.

The dark tent begins to spin and blur;

reality closes in on my little head.

I close my eyes tight,

praying this wasn’t happening.

Praying to a God who never loved me,

a God who didn’t seem to care.

The air is filled with deafening silence,

louder than anything I’ve ever heard.

Liquids spill onto my stomach,

coating skin that shouldn’t be seen.

Tears flow freely as he parts with my body,

dressing and returning to his side.

Just as quickly as it started,

it was over.

I’m left to process my undoing alone;

my brain sputters and chokes.

Frost arrives out of season,

my garden black and dead.

Replaced with something new,

its roots digging deep in my head.

And just like nothing ever happened,

the world keeps turning.

As if my world didn’t just end,

as if my reality wasn’t shattered.

This wasn’t supposed to happen;

nobody warned me.

But at the end of the day,

we were just kids.

TWO-

We were only two boys

that made it okay.

We were just roughhousing;

we were only kids.

So I tried to forget what had happened,

to forget the pain.

The liquids that dried on my skin,

the clothes that were stripped.

That awful taste,

those awful sounds.

I tried so hard,

but he wouldn’t let me.

Some time after that fateful night,

on that unassuming winter campout with my new troop,

came a simple swimming test.

It seemed like just another day.

The test ended quickly,

seemingly in the blink of an eye.

Though I was the last to finish,

so I retreated to the showers alone.

With towel and bag of dry clothes in hand,

I rounded the corner only to see him.

Still in his bathing suit,

waiting for me.

Before I knew it, I was in a shower with the curtain closed,

on my knees looking up at him.

I do what I’m told once more;

that same awful taste enters my mouth.

This time I can think a little clearer;

I could feel it all.

The warmth emanating from him,

the subtle throbbing on my tongue.

He holds my head still;

faster and faster he goes.

A familiar eruption sparks in the back of my throat;

more thick liquid trickles down.

I cough and choke as I watch him exit the stall,

left alone once more to process his actions.

Something in me finally changed that day;

a realization struck me.

Age didn’t matter after today.

I’m not just a kid anymore.

THREE-

I had grown accustomed to the pain that filled my little body,

tired and hijacked by feelings I didn’t understand.

I would lay in my warm bed,

paralyzed with shock.

Feeling like a stranger in my own home,

tense and paranoid.

So I turned to the internet

in search of comfort in my crumbling world.

I hoped to forget and repair,

but a Band-Aid can’t repair what’s in my head.

I wrote and shared stories and music

with people I called my friends.

I didn’t know why, but I craved that same attention;

I’d never felt more wanted than that night.

So I chased it day after day,

each message digging a deeper grave.

I poured my secrets out for the world,

every last bit.

My door locked and my clothes thrown aside,

but this time I took them off.

They asked and I answered;

a picture or two couldn’t hurt.

I felt wanted again,

validated and sought after.

The final nail in the coffin was my address,

sent to the wrong person.

FOUR-

One by one, I received things in the mail

from people I’d never met.

It started with letters,

confessions of love and longing for me.

How much they wanted me.

I was flattered.

Then there were packages,

pictures and items I shouldn’t have seen.

Material made for adults

in the hands of someone far under 18.

I began to feel eyes on me

wherever I went.

Strangers’ stares kept me up;

threats of death loomed over me.

Just like before, I did what I was told,

scared but no longer confused.

I now understood my danger,

but it was far too late.

Validation turned to fear,

my life now in the hands of men I didn’t know.

New knocks at my door,

quiet rustling at night.

Peering through windows,

staring at me as I sleep with unblinking eyes.

They didn’t care if I saw them.

What was I going to do?

The failing lock on my window sealed my fate,

allowing them unrestricted access.

FIVE-

Now I’m older,

taller and smarter.

That broken little boy gone,

in place of the girl I always was.

I left those online spaces;

now I know better.

Though they still follow me today,

watching and waiting.

Maybe it was my fault

for allowing them in,

for chasing attention

from people I knew were bad.

Had I let myself be groomed and stalked,

am I at fault for my life of fear and regret?

I was so innocent.

How did I end up like this?

Paranoid and tense,

still a stranger in my own home.

Even if I was,

what difference does it make?

The ending is the same either way:

bleak and bittersweet,

filled with melancholic regret.

The only way forward is acceptance,

learning to live with what happened

when I was just a kid.

[marcelinedascenequeen]

hi thus is tobey

i reallu have to pee but my girlfriends asleep

send help!