amos d9 { cb fin }

[tick 12a / calla]

amos deleon
sixteen-ish
bitchy bitter type
oh boy
{ x }

this is a mourning song -

"no - pax,
  no, let me help
  i can do it."

"for fuck's sake. just go home, amos."

- death to the innocent.

i've never
grieved quite right
since then.
some kind of break,
a fissure
that widened the gap
and shut the door,
locked it tight.

i got bored of it,
maybe.
normal life, that is.
all the fake tears and the
oh, i'm so sorry for your loss.

and it was never fair
because there was water in my lungs,
soothing something soft,
so i would get left behind,
locked in
with some kind of babysitter,
carving shit out on the empty coffins;
( he deserved it )
( she deserved it )
( they all deserved it. )

"ripred, amos.
don't be such a fucking bitch."

i tried to catch him,
once,
trap him with sleepy limbs and
just five more minutes.
but he lies with a switchblade to his palm,
a morningstar glint,
so i just pretend
that he holds me
instead.

maybe
i just want to be
useful,
prove something.
but being the favourite
isn't as good as it sounds.
i guess.

or maybe i'm just stupid
and was never special.
just a kid,
a brat,
in the wrong place
at the wrong time,
who got pitied
and taken in
like a stray.

because i remember
getting into trouble
once,
twice.
don't touch me, i said,
like it meant something.
i know people.

and they laughed,
until pax showed up.
and he told me to stay away from places like that,
dangerous places with dangerous people,
the biggest hypocrite in the world,
because he said he wouldn't be there
to save my ass next time.

i went back a week later,
made sure pax was in the middle of a job
and started a spat in the corner;
broken glass and champagne spills.

i barely got touched
and he came running.

[tick 12a / calla]

here's a thing, i guess.

ratmas cb 1/5

[gamemaker kelsier]

can i have this entire thing on my grave

accepted