#xtrainee

"I have just the thing. . ."

BETH TADER  AND CROSSTERFUCK FOREVER*

@xtrainee // “JUST FUCK ME UP” SEEMS TO BE THE STANDARD.

             None of them - not a single stupid one of them was any fun at all. They were all so, so scared, little sheep too greedy to escape their slaughter, so uh - they hadn’t. He’d lost his temper, again, made it really hard to clean up actually, such a bad tantrum - how long had it been since he’d blown up like that?

So he’d scrubbed his skin raw, rubbed every bit of his better face clean off with - he didn’t know. Not the right thing, for sure, the dishwashing sponge probably, he couldn’t remember but every bit of his skin ached. And he hadn’t done a terribly good job.

He’d slammed his way out the door, too, and now he’s stuck in the middle of some street he doesn’t know, lost - it’s taking every bit of her reminders and his nails digging into his palms. Nonono, puddin’, if you go out without your face Batsy will - today’s one of your days, huh? Let’s make some smiles!

YOURS AND YOU LOST HER YOURS AND YOU 

LOSER!

Red and black out of the corner of his eye, and he’s running before he registers it, shoving indignant walkers right out of his way, breath shuddering in his lungs and the familiar flicker of rage at the fact he even wanted it to be her at all rising in the back of his head - 

I ASKED FOR THIS.

the joke goes like this; 

the thief stares after the one prize he can never win - something only he can see.his sister asks him what it ishe wishes for so dearly,and the bad, broken thing says,heart in its mouth, “to be good.”not funny? think again;

a dirty, shattered creature does not reach for the stars and succeed.even great men cannot, and never those blind to their own good.

if i suffer, can’t i save them?if i tell myself i love them - 

won’t they love me too, one day?

he tells himself it makes no difference if he is killed for it. but he is afraid.he buries his fingers in his palms as though they are bedsheets;

he bares his throat to the wolves, and he howls so loudly they couldbelieve he is one of them. anguish andsharp teeth are a universal language.

why did you come here - ?why do you not embrace your potential?

because i love them.

the sad, fierce thing likes to scream,shriek out its agony and of the way it hasbeen tossed aside into the rubbletime and time again unending.

i -

it wants to act like its heart isn’t brokenlike it isn’t it, sorrow in the shape of a manlike it hasn’t had everything snatched awaylike it isn’t crying out from the pain of change.

love -

(people are walking tragedies, portraits of loss and longing blurred by tears.)

them -

red red red like pain like blood, and oh, this is bloodletting, soaking his sins into a viciousrebirth and stripping him of who he is andstilling that savage heart until it does not beat.

(lost boys are forgotten because they were pure and good, they deserved more but did not have the bad intheir bones to take their crowns. it is only survivors whovomit spun-sugar eulogies of their false heroics.)

it’s a funny joke, isn’t it?