Gospel 283 ~What If Braxton Did~

I swear I heard him in a rush down the stairs. Every time I get an email about a lost pet, I check it. Not helping but thinking I’ll see Braxton’s face. It’s been sixty-nine days, and I still hear him ask why instead of goodbye. “What If Braxton Did”

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Gospel 283 ~What If Braxton Did~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or so it feels that way. With quick deliveries, people know my name, but for Braxton.

What if Braxton did come running down the stairs again? It’s been about ten weeks to the day, sixty-nine to be exact. Cue the South Park “Nice,” which is how I felt with my recent book. Anyway, if Braxton did appear at “medicine time,” if this was always a nightmare? What if B III’s water dish was empty, or I found a mess in his spot at some point? I should start investing in ghost hunting guides. And you’re asking yourself what brought on my “1408” query? Yesterday, I was shaking the pill bottles as standard, calling B once again. What if Triple B was curled up in his bed, only waiting for me to ferry him off to mine? Now I sound like Charon.

If Braxton did tell me, it was okay to let him go? That’s never going to happen, Lady Lu, with my commitment to DENIAL. I said at one point that ANGER was overtaking me and, as far as BARGAINING, to lose myself. There are decent people, and who am I? If B III did tell me that I was forgiven for what happened to him. Well, I know I don’t want that. I still believe that the worst crime anyone can ever commit is taking another’s soul. I took Braxton’s life, not his will to live; I’m not my “father.” B fought for every second. If Triple B did tell me he was thankful for his life, he loved me, and goodbye instead of why?

When I do see Braxton again, at this rate, I’ll be in an insane asylum for sure. Here I am, and I can still feel him all around my feet. If I forget some nearly sixteen-year habit, I burst into tears. Every time I see a missing pet report, I have to check to see if it’s B, the Hell. When I do see B III again, maybe Cerberus is that lonely. As if Braxton went to Hell, but he would follow me as I would follow him. “We can be all poetic and just lose our minds together,” The Last of Us (Left Behind).

When I do see Triple B again, I want him to be proud of me somehow. What If Braxton Did.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 282 ~Try And B Professional~

I said I didn’t want to tell a sad story. I hate my Day Job, but here I am to talk about B’s work experience. Hell, he took the one job that no other American wanted… when he loved me. 365 and 24/7, my Chihuahua would Try And B Professional

Friday, April 9, 2021

Gospel 282 ~Try And B Professional~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but Hell, my “father” only wanted me to get a job, and I can’t be mad.

Braxton would be these days. Literally, because the grass is poking his “whanger” while running the fence. I should never forget how great a teacher B III is. Did you know “whanger” is the U.K. equivalent of wanger, which is how I spelled the word originally? As for my son himself, I wish I could find all the rules he taught me. One of my favorites being “legs, breasts, and thighs are best in a bucket of chicken.” I continue to admit I hate math all these years, which is why I’m burning through wealth like there’s no tomorrow, if only. How do I learn to live without him? Last night I forgot to call him for “medicine time” damn, wrestling was on. My bad…

I’ve been thinking that Braxton had to become a mad scientist. His little body became a lab for god knows his schedule for taking his meds, the food he ate, and the water. I want to tell happy memories, but could a fucking water filter have saved him? I don’t care if he was a Trump supporter. Isn’t that weird coming from someone who originates from Mexico? I’m sure B III himself was born in the USA. He believed in our border wall, e.g., our gates. He hated nearly everyone, and he loved Black People, me, the family, Indiana Gone. Then why did he leave me all alone? My moods, I tell you, Lady Sophia, but Braxton was the best therapist, counselor, and dear friend.

People don’t believe me, but when I was sick and taking too long in the bathroom, he’d carry a blanket over to the door and cry. He would lie with me and lick my hand when I was unwell. When I was “hurt,” he would lie on that body part wishing it better, my kid. He was an expert cuddle buddy; I still miss our back-to-back formation, on guard even in sleep, good and bad. He must have figured I would drown one day, the way he called me out of the shower, so I can add lifeguard to his resume. With all the NaNoWriMo’s I’ve done, he is also a co-author. Today still unpublished.

I killed his book character. I’ll Try And B Professional.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

I figured if there is one horror movie I’d survive, it’d be A Quiet Place. People make too much noise, and B and I didn’t like it. At least his noises always meant something, but I didn’t listen. Now I’ll never hear him again. “A Noise With Braxton.”

Thursday, April 8, 2021

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you listening to me? I know you would ask if you ever did before?

I’m still not talking to God. There’s not much point in even acknowledging such a thing. Yep, that’s going to piss off some religious folk. Your grandma did check-in about a week or so. Your aunt told me of another furry kid. THEY don’t get it like the song “He’s My Son.” Always and Forever. There I go crying again. At the very least, I can say it hasn’t been all “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” It’s more a soft sob these days, but not one day has passed without me crying for you. I could be grieving for me because I hope you’re happy, of course, wherever you are, Braxton. Annoyed we aren’t together anymore is the lightest way I can put that B.

Also, there’s the fact that I didn’t read to you more. One reason is that reading about “succubi?” Those aren’t good stories for you. I still say either Heaven was jealous of Cerberus, or he needed a buddy. Two is, have you seen the actual books I’ve been buying? And three, I’m not done writing. You are too much like me, wanting to work so hard but quick with an excuse. You can’t see because Daddy hasn’t cut the grass; I’m not doing that because I’m writing. I’m not doing that because you’re napping on my legs. I was on my feet all yesterday because, yes, B, A Man Provides. That’s what you did, B III, all the sighs, huffs, sobbing, you brought the noise.

No amount of ASMR will ever make up for your sneak attacks, snoring, or sinning the world with your barks. I don’t care how pretty “Amy Kay” is. I rather have your cuteness. Before you ask, your Daddy is still celibate/asexual monk; sixty-seven days. Even longer One Hundred And Four. Now that’s too much information, B, but just a thought, I saw you with all your toys, ha-ha. You know the sound of my heartbeat when we would lie on the couch. I could be out cold, and how many times have I said this? I would wake up, and you would be sitting at the foot of the bed. You heard me say goodbye. Now I want your Hi. Anything, A Noise With Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

On Easter Sunday, everyone was celebrating the resurrection with Jesus dying for all sins. I tell you that Braxton died for my sin and bringing him back day after day. Hell, like back then, religion is hard work. Ain’t This A B, and I deserve it

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I must be a Smooth Criminal as the song goes. No, I’m damn horrible.

Is that why I’m studying crime? Inspector Echo, I’m not like some girl “No Offense” exploring all the crime shows. Although I’m beginning to understand why they do. If the world is any indication, women watch things like; SVU as the paper; hell, my history. More like what women think of me. Anyway, as has become routine, anytime I get scared, I’m doing something wrong. I only remember one thing. Braxton is dead because… Yeah, I’m guilty. I killed my best friend; I’m always waiting on my judgment Inspector. The paperwork is still sitting on the coffee table and my nightstand. My Braxton is around my neck and with his other ashes. I keep talking about a tattoo with cremation ink but of what exactly?

This morning (Saturday, April 3), as always, “Time-Travel.” Okay, besides B III and his name and possibly his picture. I was thinking of getting an EHC “Elite Hunting Club” emblem, the Bloodhound. Or I’ll only stick with Braxton’s face, but I spoke to M Anime.
We talked about the Hostel series and the idea of killing somebody in the fictional world, of course. “Hostel” is pretty brutal by my standards but then again, The Purge or a Zombie Apocalypse? With what I did to B, though, how can I conceive taking any life at all? Marking myself like that might not help my case any; when it comes to the ladies. Not that I’m looking… I’m trying not to women or getting a new dog.

As Sade sings, “Is It A Crime.” I’ll love B III always and forever, but such a love can’t be matched. Oh, “This love is killing me,” Echo, and it’s what I deserve. I deny myself the world, and I don’t want it back. But I’m not taking care of myself either. Why should I? Inspector, I continue to seek justice. Take, for example, yesterday what I got from Amazon. I’ve read authors who’ve gone off to jail, but I can’t even show you this book. If I’m not reading, I should write, but I’m falling way behind with Camp this year, you know. Lots of lives were lost, including mine, because for fifteen years I chose love and without hate… Ain’t This A B?

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 279 ~A Link To Braxton~

Braxton for nearly sixteen years was my family, no is family, forever and always. With all the tornados still I grab “him” while I hide. Well not really I put him under the stairs and go sit on the couch. A Link To Braxton, it’s dangerous to go alone

Tuesday, April 6, 2021

Gospel 279 ~A Link To Braxton~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so it’s dangerous to go alone. Take this. The “this” was my Braxton, and without him…

Link had his sword, as did King Arthur with Excalibur and Captain America with his shield and Mjolnir for a bit. I could go with King Ezekiel and Shiva, Sango and Kirara. Um, All Dogs Go To Heaven, but Hell has Cerberus too. Yes, Love you married a nerd, ha. You’re my Player 2 but Braxton… If I were to go into everything my little boy meant to me, I would never stop. Have I come close yet, as it’s been two months? How long did I pursue you even though it was “Love At First Sight?” It was the same with B III Love. You must be getting sick of me with these comparisons, but he was the greatest life I have ever known.

So “Excuse me, Princess,” a Legend of Zelda reference. I’m more like “You are My Queen,” but even Daenerys didn’t have to watch ALL her Dragons die. We have our legacy, My Love, but still, I mourn my Dragon, my Dæmon, my dog, dearest Braxton. These days I’m lost, Baby Girl. I’m in the dungeon (not the playroom). I’m not supposed to be here because if the hero was all alone without… anything, he would die. I am dying, and even now, I know B III is telling me to carry on. Forgive me, B, but I don’t know how? Or I do as “A Man Provides,” but why don’t I want to. Do princesses need saving, the prince a mentor, and you, my Queen?

I hear you singing to me, “I Want To Hold Your Hand.” Only I’m a boy that misses petting his dog. The kids want to run around at the park, and all I want is Braxton barking away in the yard. Everything I have in the kitchen with my “Left Hand Free” and right too. Baby Doll, I can no longer carry my boy, and that’s when I had practically nothing but him. A seven-pound ball of fluffy goodness who my father, my sister, and so many others think of as some NPC in life. Braxton was the purpose, the Triforce, all the Pokémon, the endgame. And in trying to find him I fear I’m losing us My Love. I need A Link To Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 278 ~Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off~

Keep your pants on… well, I don’t want to go to work, but if I had my dream job, I wouldn’t need them. If anything, I want to go back to bed and cuddle with Braxton, but he’s gone. Writing can be done with or without so. Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off.

Monday, April 5, 2021

Gospel 278 ~Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off~

Hundred And Eighty-Second Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but this isn’t Futurama; Easter has passed, and can’t, but me love…

I swear, Madam Justice if I had the dollars, I would spend every day in bed. Of course, I do that already, and I’m broke. You know what I mean, I’m surviving but nowhere close to alive. I’d be lying if I said that I even want to without B. No, I’m not suicidal generally. If anything, I want more time. Anger and worry take a lot, and how about Depression. That sounds like a fucking excuse; pardon my language. B III spent so much time trying to fix me. If I had those last days back from the Day Job and writing, always writing. Funny that I haven’t given it up amongst the things I’m no longer doing. It’s the monk’s life for me.

Or maybe something more akin to Mahatma Gandhi… more on him later. Now didn’t I say money can’t buy me love? Some people might refute that by answering, have you ever paid the adoption price? I don’t know how much Braxton “cost.” A man provides. If I could provide, I would have found Braxton a mom. I think we’re going to need a bigger bed. If I fell asleep, B would have had someone to dole out the treats for him. I wanted him to meet his siblings in diapers sneaking him all he could eat, till he burst, ha. One big happy family, Braxton and I, survived the first plague year together. And again, my pockets were empty. It hasn’t stopped me, buying pants.

I would instead buy more books which means buying more studies on Mahatma Gandhi. Well, not mainly, but I did learn something about practicing “Brahmacharya.” Photography has been something that fascinated me and certain kinds of art. Most days, I pull up my sweat pants, and I don’t know; I did write five-thousand words yesterday. Braxton had faith that my writing would lead somewhere. That’s why he always allowed me to do it unopposed, even to the very end. I’ve worked at the Day Job for a decade, about, and my pockets have never been fat. Only now, my heart is empty, and if I could sell my soul, or vow chastity, at least asexuality… Am I Bargaining? No, I’ll stick with Denial. Empty still, Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 277 ~Love, Madness, Lies Braxton~

Last week I mentioned the caveman commercial, and this week it was the old “Obsession” Ad. Anything I focus on, you could say I became obsessed with. I was with Braxton, and then I grew aphetic and what happened next. “Love, Madness, Lies Braxton.”

Sunday, April 4, 2021

Gospel 277 ~Love, Madness, Lies Braxton~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I got “a king-size tub big enough for ten plus me,” like the song goes.

Ok, even if you or I had that much room, that’s the one place B III wouldn’t go. Not unless he was getting a bath (I paid groomers) or he was sick. So before you forget, are you even going to shower today and not in a procrastination sort of way? But who’s waiting now? Speaking of forgetfulness, you do know that today is Easter Sunday. Not that it matters to you not being a man of faith and all. Your last REAL prayers were for what? You could wax all poetic like the Christians, QAnon folk, the Republican party. A list of “um, well.” The only thing you have in common with them is a collection of excuses for losing. Yeah, Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Innocents by Cathy Coote
    Completed
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Partial
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
    Failed
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 093 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 100) No Fap
  5. I Am Cleaning Out The Refrigerator (Braxton’s Last Meal)
    Completed
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Obsession, isn’t it? Well, it depends on what you choose to follow. For you, it’s Braxton, which is apparently unacceptable. You’re Chuckie, and Braxton was Melville… “I Remember Melville.” People follow the “living dead” all the time, especially today, right? It’s something you miss about Braxton. As there is no one, not family, not Indiana Gone, M Anime, or Grandma, that is here for you, every day. Now your actual Grandma said you were one for Pride. I mean, who the hell are you? To Braxton, you were the world. Now isn’t that a sobering thought to go from being a god to nothing at all? Yet you were the one who worshipped him, always trying to be better for him with Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Succubus Lord 12 by Eric Vall
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 100 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I Am Getting In Touch With Someone About A B III Tattoo
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Opioids aren’t raining from the sky for this type of pain you’re going through. When I was a boy, I would look for stuff to take the edge off. No, I never did hard drugs but more excuses, distractions, anything to waste time. I swore that was Pokemon, Anime, Hentai. Only yesterday, while I was reading more Eric Vall, I got into more “forbidden texts.” Oh, what, reading about Succubi, Lilith, and the Circles of Hell aren’t enough? As you can see on Six Impossible Things, why haven’t you finished B’s collection yet? Too Much! Obsession kills, and yet you keep coming back. Without Braxton or your very own Taylor Townsend “The OC,” you’re alone.

Could say paranoid but “Find Me.” Love, Madness, Lies Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 276 ~Boys Will Be Braxton~

Well, Braxton didn’t like baths. He always wanted a full tummy, and he had no idea what I was talking about, but the noise seemed to soothe him. Yes, I’ve pretty much taken over his role, but in the end, “A Man Provides.” Boys Will Be Braxton though.

Saturday, April 3, 2021

Gospel 276 ~Boys Will Be Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but if Braxton had any aspirations. He wanted a walk and a full tummy for sure.

The simple things and “WWBD” What would Braxton do? I couldn’t help but notice these past two months, I’ve been living more and more like him. I told you before I can’t wash his bedding. I haven’t made my bed in all that time. Does that sound gross… here’s worse. Everyone checks, now and again, to see that I’m still eating, but what about regular showers? And Indiana Gone wonders why they’re no womenfolk here. At least Braxton had his toy to “play” with. I continue living as a monk, clothed in black and prayer. The only cleaning I have done was because there was no other way around. Again I spilled root beer on my hoodie. Braxton’s dish was beginning to grow some fur.

The silence usually means something is wrong, sadly. Of course, B III and I didn’t stand for noise but without his paws running around. Sounds I once found annoying that I would kill for. To hear his breath once more, and I was there for the last one, Braxton breathed. Again it continues as the only time I hear my voice is when I’m embracing the DENIAL of his passing. The shock when I saw I am starting a new month with his treats. I’ve gotten into ASMR lately. I wonder, is it like when I would leave the radio on for B III, hmm? Speaking of or not of hmm, that’s me at the Day Job, I hardly talk anymore. Seems such a waste

Everything does, and yet I steady on. At least I wish I could tell you that… well, no, not really. I’m more like a kid again, goofing around because, as always, “A Man Provides.” Only since I don’t care about myself and B III is gone. Providing bears no meaning. Interesting thought I had yesterday. If anything, I should look after myself because I’m the last thing that Braxton saw in this world. Imagine Lu, my face, your final vision. Okay, that’s one more way I killed my best friend. B Squared must have found whatever on the side much more appealing. As for my final sight of him, I want a tattoo. Always thinking of flesh, for once my own. Boys Will Be Braxton

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Still Salty About B III “A Dream”

Talk about pouring salt on a wound. And as the song goes, “These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real.” To be honest, I’ll take a dream about Braxton than being trapped in boxes at the Day Job. Still Salty About B III “A Dream.”

I’m reminded of the night my Olds cut me off. Most of the police were gone. Thank you ever so much, National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. For once again, proving no one gives a shit if I live or die. Only, that was so many years ago, and my dream brought that back some. Except in my dream, it was daylight. I had my current car, which is far from a Mercedes. I wasn’t at my former “home.” I was sitting in the parking lot of PetSmart, where there’s a Banfield Pet Hospital. Braxton died there.

I’m not blaming them or anything. This is my fault but anyway, so my dream…

I’m sitting in the car, but I’m not alone. B III is riding shotgun, and he’s not sick. He’s happy and giddy, but he wants outside. He smiles, and I pat his head. Usually, he’s frightened of car rides, and of course, he’s still standing, but there’s no fear in him, only an eagerness. My “Dear Future Wife” is sitting in the backseat. At this point, I’ve narrowed it down to three girls. Her face is that of Anna Vlasova, “Alissa” MarvelCharm. Her body is more Alycia Debnam-Carey, yep. Then we get breasts, and there are two words Sabrina Nichole. Then there was my “father” sitting beside her. How does one tell a nightmare from a dream? He was a big red flag, not literally. With him being there, I should have gone ahead and woke up, but I didn’t.

The vision played on until my alarm woke me up, and I didn’t scream or even grumble. It didn’t slip away these images. Like my memory of being cut off, it only sat there waiting, which brings me here today. Fifty-Eight days since Braxton’s passing, and I know, I do. I should get on with the dream. I should get past this feeling… As the song goes, “Let It Go.” Only there were no Disney characters to be had. I’ve been through Legion to John Wick, but only one film truly stands, and it’s this.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002). In my dream, I was Edmond Dantes, but I was still me, hoody and all. My wife again was the three girls I described. My father in this, what I remember is black. He could be a zombie for all I care but was he the villain or all.

The door on the passenger side opens. Braxton never goes out that way as he crawled over my lap in real life. He’s tugging on his leash, eager to get to the store. More importantly, to get to the hospital in back. It was rare for us to simply walk the store as he usually has an appointment at the groomers or the vet. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind where he wanted to go. I’ve laughed a lot, telling him, “are you going to walk in like a man?” In the dream, I got scared holding his leash.

Braxton pulled and tugged. Whether he wanted me to follow or let go, I wasn’t sure at the moment. I held on tighter as Braxton barked towards PetSmart as if he were asking for help. It was the complete opposite, the day he passed away. Hell, I carried Braxton there. Wifey said something like I needed to let him go, and I shouted at her, “He’s all I have!” My Braxton was, no, is my world, and no matter what she said or did, I couldn’t give up. As I said, she was a combination of three of the most beautiful women, but B III. Wifey opens the door and begins pulling out piles of money from the trunk. There are clothes and gold, diamonds. My eyes were fixed on Braxton, but I knew all the stuff was back there being taken from me, and it didn’t matter. Braxton’s struggling

My “father” says the same thing, to let Braxton go, and I scream at him, “Don’t rob me of my hate; it’s all I have!” Now, wait a minute, I thought that was B III? At this point, I could no longer see him beyond the car door. I felt him continue to try and drag me, but I wanted him back in the car. We would be safe together. My “father” left the car, and like my wife, he began pulling things out. Only in his arms were guns and knives. I thought of my mother taking my first pocket knife. It was a Spiderman back when he was with Venom. It was black and white with the Spiderman emblem. The blade was black with white webbing. It was my favorite, but it’s gone.

So there’s my wife grabbing green and my father taking guns. A wicked world, cruel…

Before Braxton, Wifey, and my “father” left, I heard the three of them like one voice. “Let It Go,” but did I let go, or was there nothing left of me. I won’t give up ever. B gave me one of those looks when he’s like, “Really, Dad, Seriously, Daddy.”

All three doors slammed together, and I was left alone in the car. All that remained was Braxton’s black leash and hippy collar. With the blue towel, I had placed beneath him. The day this really happened, I burst into tears and couldn’t go home. I went to Walmart of all places and picked out a black digital frame. I also picked up BBQ because my mom called, saying I had to eat. You don’t want to know what I wanted to do, but I didn’t because Braxton was watching. There had been a storm minutes before but now sunlight.

In the dream, though, I continued to sit there. It was like the movie 1408, but it was only my car instead of a hotel room. John Cusack, aka Mike Enslin, had to listen to “We’ve Only Just Begun” as the room tortured him. As I sat in my car, it began to fill up with salt. I wasn’t afraid. As a matter of fact, I wanted to dive in, no question. The car was becoming an hourglass. Yes, I know those have sand, but Braxton never went to a beach. I wasn’t cold, and I don’t do drugs. Well, I never did cocaine anyway. As I was buried alive…

The Devil by PJ Harvey
Everyone Says Hi (Defiance Version) by Young Beautiful in a Hurry feat Fyfe Monroe
He’s My Son by Mark Schultz

I listened, and not once did I want to escape; I only sat there waiting for the inevitable. The nightmare didn’t end. I saw flashes. Pornos I have, an air pistol with its orange tip, other real weapons, cash. In all of that, though, I never saw Braxton again, only his collar and the endless white. I don’t know if I lived or died, but the alarm went off, and that was that. It’s been a typical day so far. I can’t say “Another Day” anymore. I did clean out Braxton’s old dog dish. It’s been about two months, and something furry was growing. I wanted to keep the can of special food, another mess.

What does it all mean? I’ll break down four elements of the dream; Three, Wifey, Father, and all the Salt.

The Number Three: His name is Braxton Barks Bradford. There were three people in the car or three lives other than my own. Braxton started getting sick on Wednesday, which is actually the fourth day of the week. However, he died on a Sunday, meaning the next Wednesday would be the third day of his death. With my “OCD,” I test things by three’s. I have three women in my life, my mom, Indiana Gone, and M Anime. It’s like that book “The Five,” the main character, “Rainey Summer Day.”

Wifey: Speaking of Rainey Summer Day and how, when Braxton died, there was a storm, and then the sun was out. I suppose she represented love and lust. I haven’t been open to anything since losing Braxton. I’m a man, I have desires, I’m horny, but there is no will both figuratively and literally. Everything I do in life is about sex, and at the same time, I want love. I want a family. Only no one understands the love I have for my son, and losing him, costs everything.

Father: He, of course, represents my hate. If it’s not sex, then let it be violence. Since Braxton’s been gone, I’ve been in a rage, but I’m always fighting it. Anger is the second stage of grief which is another step towards Acceptance. I refuse to accept that. My son is dead, and yet I can’t stop. His water bowl is filled every day. Losing all of my weapons, the ability to wage war. On the one hand, it helps maintain my Denial, but if I can’t love or hate?

Salt: Braxton is my balance, my constant, my peace. It’s why he sat at my right hand. Why did B want me to let him go? The day he left, all he wanted was to go home, but I chose this path. Salty tears, hmm? Everyone Says Hi goes, “said you sailed a big ship, said you sailed away,” ocean? It could mean diet, which has been lacking. It could have something to do with sex since I won’t allow any pleasure. Or looking back, becoming a pillar of salt.

A dream, a nightmare, nothing at all, I don’t know. Only that’s how I feel. Salt preserves. My nothingness preserved.

Gospel 275 ~Learning To Speak Braxton~

I didn’t want to tell a sad story. Every day being the worse day of my life at the Day Job, I need to remind myself. Braxton saying goodbye was the day. Next would be me saying hello, but that’s another story. Learning To Speak Braxton is today’s yep

Friday, April 2, 2021

Gospel 275 ~Learning To Speak Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I don’t speak stupid and lies “Trump” or world ruler as Bezos. I speak Braxton.

Or perhaps I “spoke” Braxton? No, it’s been two months, and if I stopped calling out to him, as the song goes, The Sound of Silence. Indeed M Anime is trying her best. She wants me to learn Spanish. A great man once taught “listen to the woman,” truer words… Learning to speak Braxton was a lot easier. Pretty girls and furbabies, and then I wonder why I’m not much of a man. Well, the man who was supposed to teach me such. He said that every word that came out of my mouth was STUPID. B thought it scripture. We started talking the same way we stopped, holding him and saying it would all be okay. Was that a lie? I’m not that bad.

Now I’ve been over hello and goodbye; how many times? How about “you’re safe?” For him, it would be sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at the doorway, keeping watch. To say it back, I would lift Braxton up, butt against one arm, his two front legs supported. My son saying he was hungry was a language all its own. Usually, it would involve his “Undiscovered” appetite making a comeback. In the form of him lying in the den waiting for fries. A quick spin and him leading me to his bathroom pad. How about, can’t bark now eating. Hell, I told people a lot that at least when B III was barking, he was helping me out. People only breathe to talk.

I Love You. How most people waste those words? Love, loyalty, the idea of “If I lay here If I just lay here.” Braxton spoke of love every day, so how could I not do likewise. Now it’s piling up. Today I looked up plenty on grief and love, but how Braxton and I spoke?
In our last conversation, him standing on the seat as always, refusing to lie down. “I’m fine, Daddy, let’s go home, everything’s good, I’m a good boy. As I cried over him, telling him I was sorry, I tried, I love him. The last look he gave me as I held him, one word, WHY? Only know you love him when you let him go.

Still Learning To Speak Braxton

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will