Review, Please. If you don't you're not even being lazy- you're just being stupid :).
Come After MeRehabilitation, they call it- the X-Men. I sat in their office while Xavier shook his head sadly, and went on about understanding how desperate my situation had been. A second chance, he called it- Logan. He held me tight against his chest while my fingers clenched at his shirt, and tears streaked down my face, stinging at the still-tender flesh on my cheeks. "I don't believe in things happening by chance," he'd told me in that low, grave tone he gets whenever someone starts to doubt we'll all have a fairytale ending, "There's a reason you're here, Mort. This is your chance to do things over, and I won't let them take it from you." What complete and utter bullshit. I don't know why he'd convinced himself that he cared so much in the first place… No one cared about me. I was the Toad.
Do you belong to a song?
Does it drag you
along by the tongue at the top of your lungs?
Are you drunk?
Have
you been drinking?
I slam back the umpteenth shot of the night, and wince as it slides down my throat before curling back into the darkness of the booth. The reporter on the telly says something about the blizzard breaking a record. I certainly don't give a shit- all I know is that it had been damn cold outside. I'd almost given into the hypothermia on my way here. Figured there wasn't much point in fighting any of it anymore.
Do
you belove the overpass go with a fifth in your fist
Reminiscing
the kiss of a love that just didn't love as much as you did?
The
kiss of a love that just didn't love as much as you did?
I had to give him credit, though: The Wolverine knew how to bullshit like no other. Making promises about things being better, being accepted, finding inner peace or some nonsense like that. He did tell the truth about one thing, though. When Logan saw what he wanted, he knew it, and he took it. Nothing stood in his way. It had been nice at first, being wanted. Laying curled up against him at night, his arms around me, protecting me- it was the closest thing to love I've ever been given. Even if just for a while, someone gave a damn whether I lived or died. When he kissed me, sometimes I could pretend it was love.
But
please don't give up dear walls.
Don't let the ceiling fall.
When
you belong to a song, salty eyes, you belong.
The room tilts violently, and my hands clutch at my temples frantically in an attempt to keep the volatile liquor down. I'm making it run through my system like poison. Maybe now I can know what it was like having a pathetic shit like me hanging around. Another shot down. It burns.
Shrill
notes begin the grim violin.
Then from the silence of violence the
sirens orchestrate the score.
To which one more corpse is left
quiet.
I was a bleeding idiot to say it. Why couldn't I just be happy with things like they were? I was better off than I'd ever been in my entire life, and I had to go piss it away searching for more! I was a right selfish bastard. I deserved everything I got. That look on his face when I asked, voice quivering like a child's, eyes pleading like a weakling's: "Lo… d'you… d'you love me?" God damn, I'd wanted so bad for him to love me… He cared, though, that should have been enough. I was a fool to go chasing him away with a question like that.
How
we've become the hollows of drums.
The rest between notes and the
hollers that never reach throats.
Friends in quotes, they're not
calling.
I keep expecting him to walk into the bar. Don't have a clue how in hell he'd find me, but I keep thinking he'll track me down this time like he did before. Smell me out, maybe? God knows he knows my scent by now. Now, that's just pathetic, isn't it, though? I used to hate them. They were the enemy- it was all so clear-cut and perfect. Now I kept seeing him walking in to make it better…
But
please don't give up dear you.
I'll bet the sliver moon's sliding
through
When you belong to a song, salty eyes, you belong.
When he dove into the murky Hudson after me… I couldn't believe someone was actually trying to save my life… It was ridiculous. Me, a man who killed for a living, was saved by the enemy. He'd searched me out in the darkness, and hauled me to shore. It wasn't the only time, either. When Jean told me about my heart, I tried to bolt. I'd never be the same… it was gone. They'd never take me back. Magneto wouldn't take me back when I served no purpose anymore. Logan came after me. He promised to take care of me. I believed him, too. Yet, when I asked that stupid question, and he just sat there staring at me… When I ran, he didn't follow. Just let me go.
Do
please believe however naive.
They may drag you along by the
tongue at the top of your lungs.
And belong salty eyes.
As my muscles slowly give way to unconsciousness, I swear I can even see him walking in. The room is sliding in and out of focus, but him I see clearly. He strolls in, shakes the snow off his jacket, and walks over to the bar- can't even see me here. The bar dims to black of its own accord, and I swear I can even hear him… "You seen a little guy come in here? Yea high… keeps a hood up… English accent…?"
When you belong to a song, salty eyes, you belong.