Dear Brendon Urie
this impossible year your songs were the only thing that put vigor in my blood, and feeling in my limbs. Until we feel alright. In my darkest hours your songs made my skeleton want to dance, made it dance, it always danced to your music. Always forever I will dance to your music.
Dear Brendon Urie
I'm all dressed up and naked. A tiktok, that was all it was, innocently scrolling through tiktok with my friend (though one could argue with her feed it is never innocent), I saw it. Do you know when you have the dream that you're naked at school?  This is a hundred fold worse. I was not naked, but something tore certainty from my body. The music that had help build be up burned my structure. You can set yourself on fire
Dear Brendon Urie
Girls love girls and boys. I came out as lesbain a few months ago. You gave me a space to explore that, you said ‘its ok to be queer’, then you punched me across the face. Homophobe was not usually even close to the row of adjectives I reserved for you but now it is.
Dear Brendon Urie
Just another LA Devotee. I thought for a second that tik tok was like voter fraud in Wisconsin, false claims made by uneducated people. Then the truth hits, no women lies about ****** harassment, no fan lies about your racist monologe at a concert, nobody lies about someone saying the n word, no one lies about you laughing at a ablelist joke. You are not as shiny as you appear. The glitter dancing on the skin. The decades might've washed it out.
Dear Brendon Urie
It's better to burn than to fade away. For years I have watched each of my heros burn
Dear J.K. Rowling,
Dear Gloria Steniem.
Every author I ever loved homophic.
Dear Kevin Clash
Dear Michael Jackson
Dear Bill Cosby
Every artist I every loved accused of pedophila
Dear lance armstrong
Dear basketball players
Every athlete I aspired to be like a drug used
Dear Bill Clinton
Every politican I admired accused of ****** assault
You have all proved to me that there are no heroes that there is no one to look up to.
I am sad more than angry, sad that you couldn’t be bothered to love the world as they love you.

HAPPY 34TH BIRTHDAY BRENDON!!!!


:)

You know something happened
When every teacher walks into the hall
And a shared, scared glance sweeps across everyone
When your friend walks into the room and tells you
And the teacher brings you into a class of strangers
To tell you how much you mean to her.
You know something happened
When she starts crying and telling you
That she can't sugarcoat it even if she wanted to
And when you walk into your next class
And the room is silent
But the teacher didn't tell them to be.
And when there is a staff member at every corner
And when there is silence in the halls
And how you didn't even know him
But it makes you sad as well.
And how every stranger to walk in the building
Could feel the tension in the air
And how you turn the corner and see your youth pastor
And how you can't even tell your best friend how you feel
And how the silence shows you that through tragedy,
We are one.
And how the silence told me that we unite through feeling,
An unspoken feeling,
A silent tribute throughout the halls
Throughout the day.
And how you see the sadness, the tissues and hugs,
And how you wonder if that's how he felt
Before it happened
Before any of us felt this way
And you wonder if he felt this feeling
The beautiful high school quarterback
With everything seemingly perfect
And you wonder if he felt this way-
numb.

She sat on the pier,
Kicking her feet as they hung over the water;
Smiling,
Sarah looked at the sun setting
Oblivious
The young boy behind her.

Brendon,
His name,
Loved Sarah so.
But Sarah was off in her little world;
Unaware.
Smiling
Because she just didn't care.

Oblivious
To the
Obvious,
Sarah smiled as Brendon approached her,
A bright red blush blossomed on his cheeks,
He awkwardly sat beside her.

Formally normal,
He was a young kid
But after laying eyes upon her
Velvet lips,
And deep eyes
He knew that his Destiny
Lied
With her.

i looked at my hands closely,
pinching the skin covering bone and calling it fat.
looking in the mirror for over half an hour after i shower makes me want to disappear in my bed sheets again.
i stared at my open refrigerator only to pour myself a cup of lemon water,
calling my eating habits a "cleanse".
i put my hands up in defense every time my friends tried to feed me and endlessly offer me their food.

i don't want it.
i don't know what my goal is.
i want to feel okay in this skin.

i want my mom to take back every comment.
i want my little sister to think before she speaks when she's angry at me.
i want brendon, my first grade crush, to take back what he said to my face in second grade.
cause you see,
i remember it all.

i remember my mother calling me fat like it was a bad thing when my first grade thighs couldn't fit into my hannah montana jeans.

i remember brendon telling me he liked me until i started to get fat.

i remember every time my little sister has told me i have no friends and that everyone leaves me because i'm fat.

April 24th around 5:50 pm a group of boys took it upon themselves to laugh.
I proceeded to look around to see if someone had fallen, to see if someone was wearing, or not wearing, something they shouldn’t,
I waited.
I began to walk faster.
“But It’s Better if you Do” by Panic at the Disco was blaring in my ears so whatever they were saying was blocked out by the blare of Brendon Urie’s voice…
I still don’t get what was so funny—but I have an idea.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been subject to jokes about how I look.
I am the **** of everyone’s fat joke,
My comedy is a product of every snicker, every cackle, every time I’ve been called Big Momma or Rasputia.
My pearly white smile is painted by the white lies I tell myself and everyone else to get through the day.
I wonder if people ever stop to think if there is a person, suffocating, lonely in the center of this big, fat meat suit.
I wonder if people ever think before they speak or laughing at me when I eat.
I wonder if people know that I was raised by the strongest single mother in the world, so I have skin tougher than steel so their words can’t hurt me,
A mother who raised 3 children on her own.
A mother of an 8 year old
Whose father died in Honduras 2 years ago after being deported back 2 years before that—she told us it was a car accident,
but my mother taught me was to be nosey and to always search for the truth, especially when it’s being hidden from you.
My little brother’s father, the love of my mother’s life, was gunned down murdered in cold blood.
She is a mother of a 23 year old
Who has had Asperger’s his entire life, has dealt with being shipped from school to school because it’s so hard to find a special education program for him.
My mother taught me patience is the biggest virtue, and that my anger with his repetitive questions and running around is nothing compared to the anger he feels with himself every day for being a “burden” on those around him.
A mother who
Beats herself up over the fact my brother my father’s side is addicted to drugs,
My brother’s mother was a drug addict and so was my father at the time,
And even though my father was able to clean himself up, he had so many warrants out for his arrest it forced him to play hide and seek with the police and his own children
So for months at a time my mom would take care of my brother, thought about adopting him, but of course that didn’t happen—
His mom got clean.
My dad was finally caught, things were looking up
Until his mother got ***** again, rolling with dogs, her arms look like she was eaten up by fleas
My father was never a father,
Disappearing for weeks without so much as even a breath and reappearing as if he never left
No wonder my brother can never stay clean.
My mother taught me to love my brother unconditionally, that no matter what I have to laugh with him when he needs a laugh
Because my brother doesn’t know what stability is, he doesn’t know what standing on his own two feet feels like because he is always high.
She taught me to always laugh with him because I don’t know if he’ll come down the next time he gets high.
A mother of
An 18 year old girl who suffers from clinical depression and anxiety, but has to keep it swept under the rug because the public school system failed in teaching her about mental illness.
However, my mother taught me that as much as I depend on her she depends on me, that I am her backbone and she believes that even if I sink I will learn how to swim before the tide engulfs me and I’m taken too far from the shore.
I’m ripping off this big, fat meat suit because I’m tired of suffocating,
I’m learning how to swim.
I can feel the sun now.

Over the years I've had a few tries
But it's not been a great success
Enthusiastic but lacking technique
Finishing up a bit of a mess

Now Brendon's out there, plying his trade
He's only twenty three
Done it at college, passed his grades
So he can do it properly

Earning the money, stashing away
To buy a place of his own
Sure he'll get there, for as they say
Where there's a will there will be a way

His girl is local, she does people's hair
He says in her head there's nothing but air
Calls her the missus, she's only eighteen
Like an old married couple to some they seem

She rides with him in his scruffy old van
She'd prefer a comfortable car
She wants to leave home as soon as she can
So likes to see him work hard

As the day ticks away we mardle
He knows an old flame of mine
I say yes, I know her quite well
But not seen her now for some time...

The grand design moves forward
We've had a laugh and a chat
All paid up, thanks for your help
In a month or so he'll be back

While jaye threw to stephanie's house, shane was brainstorming a tropicana plan. jaye the Brendon Urie's toilet decided to go for a shipping. shane and his friend cat, a cumquat, met jaye at Texas. cat snatched jaye's a ball, his most prized possession. jaye BANGARANG, but shane just laughed and said, ""your mother"". shane and cat married away, leaving jaye stranded. jaye dropped to the ground and EEK CHUK BEEK BANG. He was very confuzzled.

F is for Fall Out Boy, who saved rock and roll.
U is for Brendon Urie
N is for NO DONT MENTION MCR!
      
Here in our emo community.

My heroes growing up
were golden-haired princes
and gun-toting superspies
that would crash through my bedrom windows
and whisk me away
to a world more beautiful than this one.

My heroes as a young, ***** teenager
were the scruffy rebels.
Sid Vicious. Joan Jett. Amy Lee.
Gerard Way. Brendon Urie.
who would scream their ways through my bleeding ears
and pierce my heart like needles,
And stir my pre-pubescent *** drive like a raunchy letter to a middle-aged, dissatisfied wife.

My heroes changed as I grew older
As my standards became lower for them.
because I thought i didn't deserve anything.

The man across the street who smiled at me.
The man who offered me a towel when I threw up on the bus.
The classmate who gave me directions once.

Then I met you, and you saved me.
Like the golden-haired prince
and gun-toting spy
from my dreams.

But today

One came in the form of a lady who bought a necklace from my mother.
And now we can afford two coffees instead of one.

Modern-day heroes.
****, I need to learn to save myself.

dabnagit  Travel back to before the nation began
and see Crispus Attucks killed — the
first American to die for American freedom, a freedom denied to his African and Native American forebears. Take a knee to honor his sacrifice and the other four dead.

Take a knee in grief that he who would become president minimized these first martyrs as "a motley rabble of saucy boys, negros and molattoes, Irish teagues and outlandish Jack Tarrs.”

Stand at Morris Island, South Carolina, where American soldiers fought to keep a young nation whole, a field of blue with 35 stars, not 22. Take a knee for the 54th Massachusetts Voluntary Infantry and its score killed at Fort Wagner, a hundred more presumed dead.

Take a knee in grief that the U.S. Army rescinded its promise of equality and paid the 54th little more than half a white soldier's monthly pay. Take a knee in awe at those who refused any pay that was less, yet died with "Massachusetts and Seven Dollars a Month!" on their lips, defending their white comrsdes' retreat.

Take a knee for Sgt. Medgar Evers, who defeated fascists at Normandy only to be killed by them once he was back home.

Take a knee from the suckerpunch by a U.S. senator from Mississippi in 1917, who said the return of black veterans would “inevitably lead to disaster.” Once you “impress the ***** with the fact that he is defending the flag” and “inflate his untutored soul with military airs,” it would be easy for him to conclude “his political rights must be respected.” Take a knee to honor those who died defending freedom. Take a knee to weep for the sharp rise in lynchings after both world wars — following the return of those impressed, untutored ***** souls inflated with military airs for having served.

Look at the lists, look at the videos, look at the witness testimony, look at the double standard: Amadou Diallo. Manuel Loggins Jr. Ronald Madison. Kendra James. Sean Bell. Eric Garner. Michael Brown. Alton Sterling. Philando Castile. (Take a knee; this could take awhile.) Akiel Denkins. Gregory Gunn. Samuel DuBose. Brendon Glenn. Freddie Gray. Natasha McKenna. Walter Scott. Christian Taylor. Ezell Ford. Akai Gurley. Laquan McDonald. (Take a breath.) Tamir Rice. Yvette Smith. Jamar Clark. Rekia Boyd. Shereese Francis. Ramarley Graham. LaTanya Haggerty. Margaret LaVerne Mitchell. And on and on. And on.

Take a knee for the unarmed, or subdued, or even fleeing men and women killed by officers pledged to protect and serve. Take a knee too for the officers killed by gun-toting gangsters…or by homeowners fearing a home invasion. While you're at it, take a knee for the more than 50 people killed every year by toddlers exercising their Second Amendment rights.

And take a knee for the soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines who died so that a football player can take a knee as long as some people are shot by police in the back, or even when down, or even after they're on their knees…while others for some reason are far less likely to be shot in the same circumstances. Take a knee, Rodin-like, and ponder why.

Take a knee and join those who are taking a knee out of respect not only for the flag, but for the republic for which it stands, one nation…

(Striving to be a more perfect union)

…under God…

(Who "created all men equal"; "male and female he created them.")

…indivisible…

("Build that wall!" "Lock her up!" "Fire the sons of ******* if they won't stand for this flag but run them over if they protest a rebel flag!")

…with liberty and justice for all lives can't matter unless black lives matter.

So for these all, and many more, take a knee. Take your time, but take some heart. Then lift each other up and lock your arms. Play ball.

I just had a vision. 3 years from now, one late night at my university campus, I look out the window to see the moon.
I ask the moon to send a message from me to you saying,
"I love you and I miss you."
And I know that wherever you are, you'll look at the moon and hear my message. We'll spend the night having a conversation through the moon and I'll make a wish, just like Brendon Urie once said,
"Hey moon, please forget to fall down. Hey moon, don't you go down."

The art of letting go, is not to step over te pain.
It's not to ignore your feelings, ignore the ache.

The art of letting go, is being able to let the pain in.
Let it overwhelm you, and afterwards take control.

Because the amazing Brendon Urie once said: "being blue, is better than being over it"

This kind of beautiful, I’ve never seen her wear,
For tonight, she glows of a hundred moonlights;
Pain has never looked so welcomed,
Screams have never sounded so melodic;

With each melody, I watch, as stray tears appear from the corner of her eyelids,
I can’t help but be mesmerized, as each one traces a path across her rosy cheeks;
I imagine them as dancers,
so elegant and choreographed;

These butterflies; I’ve never felt them before,
And my heart pounds like a bass drum on every beat;
Nothing can relax me,
Nor do I want it to;

She rings out one final harmony just before another is heard,
A quick turn bares the gift of my baby girl;
A slow and returned glance bares relief to my world,
Our three cries, synchronized — so beautifully merged;

As I lay with them both,
I feel completeness arrive;
For tonight, it is known that,
My world just gave me my life.

Brendon S. Sawyer
2019

Some people Hate
Some people Infiltrate
Some people Watch
Some people Fall
Some people Love!

It's what this world needs to survive;
To:
Belong
Nurture
Embrace
Co-Exist
Love!

This is the World---You Make It----
Dr. Brendon J O'Brien

It’s been 217 days since he’s last seen the sun,
He awakens and wonders how the world looks today,
The familiar walk to his front door brings him no joy,
His house is unrecognizable to him now,
The only company he has now is himself,
The only voices he hears are his own,
He hates himself more and more,
He hates that this affects his family,
A wife, two kids; the pain they feel seeing him like this,
He opens his front door and walks to the end of his porch,
His house is surrounded by a forest of tall Redwoods,
He likes to think of them as bars to a jail cell,
Trapping him into the place where he stands,
He peers through the dense tree canopy, to learn if his nightmare would end,
“****,” he mumbles, as if someone could hear him,
There’s no one around, there’s nobody near him,
It’s been 217 days now since he’s last seen the sun,
Grey skies and fog, not the blue that once was,
Still, with no blue, he feels blue — can this be undone,
After all of this time, he’s lost his self-love,
The kids don’t really look at him the same since,
Though they still love him and he loves them,
They used to laugh together,
Now he hardly talks,
They used to dance together,
Now he hardly walks,
He hears shallow knocks, they’re quiet but loud,
A creak from the door will trigger more sound,
He sees his wife there, with concern in her eyes,
As she and the kids have to leave and say they’re goodbyes

- “Hey. I have to get the kids out of here until you’re better,” she says softly.
- “Please don’t leave,” he pleads.
- “This isn’t good for them. This isn’t good for any of us,” she explains.
- “I’m so sorry that this happened,” he says with a choked-up voice.
- “I know. Just get better,” she replies as her eyes begin to water.
- “I love you,” he tells her.
- She replies, “I love you too,” and slowly closes the door.

The pain he feels for the pain they feel just kills him inside,
Depression has stolen joy from his kids and his wife,
He screams as long as he can with no one to hear him,
Tears fall in masses, as he cries for his freedom,
He doesn’t deserve to fall victim like this,
He tries and he tries but can’t find a fix,
He’s lost himself, and it all happened so fast,
that he can’t seem to recall how it sounds when he laughs,
His energy, it seems, has just run empty again,
His eyes close to sleep, in hopes tomorrow’s the end,

He awakens and wonders how the world looks today,
It’s been 218 days since he’s last seen the sun.

Brendon S. Sawyer
2019

“Oh darkness, my friend,
Oh darkness, you see;
Why can’t I transcend,
The darkness in me.”

“Oh my child, you fool,
Oh my child, you see;
I don’t mean to be cruel,
But what’s of that you speak?”

“Oh darkness, so strong,
Oh darkness, I plea;
This has gone for so long,
It’s time I’m set free.”

“Oh my child, calm down,
Oh my child, so meek;
Your mind is my playground,
Your tears are my beach.”

“I am ready for growth,
For my power’s divine;
I take back all control,
That you’ve had on my mind.”

“You don’t have to do this child?
Don’t leave me like this;
I swear that I’m not defiled,
Please close the abyss.”

“My head is so clear now,
Appreciation, anew;
So this is my farewell,
And I bid you adieu.”

“I’ll wait for the next time,
that you might need me again;
I am darkness — I’m always trying,
To pretend as your friend.”

Brendon S. Sawyer
(2019)

It wasn't prudent to leave you that way
Frothing and ugly
All the nice people
All the cozening beast
Turned from me,
A passing freak

I began clawing at the wall
Instead of writing poetry
And they came rushing in with guns
And treated me like a threat

A strange creature started eating my time and flesh
It said confusing things about why it had the authority to do this
In plain English
I had to sit still
I watched the creature's blood-letting ritual heal some
But it made me feel dizzy and weak

I miss you, love
When you were young--
Now it is me who is 23
And she who is 19
Only I wasn't cool enough to snap her little heart
That is for young men and is not kind to do to girls

I miss you, love
But you're so far
Got everything you wanted
I could never sing straight
I could only hit that note when I was alone
I am not like Brendon Urie
And I am not like Soupy or any of those people

But I can try

I am dizzy and you went straight through me
I am scrounging for scraps
I am listening to my thoughts telling me I will be venerated and having to snap out of it
You're crazy

D d d
We're gonna die one day
But small things are beads on an infinite necklace
And these wons were woven in with a solemn, steady hand

I’m angered by the way that I am,
Though, I am not angered at myself,
I hate the man that I see in the mirror,
Though, I do not hate the man who sees that reflection,
I despise the person that I am,
Though, I do not despise the person of whom I’ve become,
I fault the illness that controls my mind,
Though, I do not fault my mind for being sick,
I’ll always hold this grudge against you for making me this way,
So why—given all of this pain and hate—do I still hope you’ll love me someday?

Brendon S. Sawyer
2020

Let us drive, drive away from the lights in the sky,
For I crave to see the stars as they dance in your eye;
I see so clearly when the darkness surrounds,
Cause this love, it is guidance, when you are around;
The moon can’t compare to the shine that you give,
Your smile, the dimples, our laughter — like a shiv;
This piercing joy in my heart, it all feels like spring,
How could reality be this? it’s just like my dreams;
In the rain I feel dry, in the snow I feel warm,
The struggles of history allow the future to form;
All the heartbreak I’ve felt — and the lonely expanse,
Was just my soul moving past a toxic romance;
See growth is inevitable — though finish line, unclear,
But my marathon is over; you’re finally here.

Brendon S. Sawyer
2019