*GULP*, I’m surprised I didn’t mention the poetry book that still sits before my eyes on my screen. Hell, I paid those people what, two or three years ago, and I haven’t sent them anything. I’ve been up to my neck in… whatever. What Comes NECK B
Saturday, September 18, 2021
Chronicle 079 ~What Comes NECK B~
Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could get my neck checked out. I should get my eyes examined too.
Only what excuse comes next? It’s 5:50 AM, so of course, I’m pissed. I’m trying to aim for 4:00, and Braxton would think, am I crazy. My neck hurts; she’s not so pretty, there’s time. No, there isn’t. That’s what this neck pain is smarting as I can’t remember, dreaming. There’s one more excuse; let me see how I was sleeping wrong in the dark so I can fix it. Don’t they usually put a bag over your head before they execute you? Or am I living in a world where it is better not to look? Lunalesca, I continue going on about novels today. I’m still thinking about The Handmaid’s Tale. I finished reading my current book, and I saw Blindness by José Saramago.
All these things Lady Luna. If I wasn’t being so selfish again, I could worry about the rest of the world or my country at least. You know how I hate sounding like a Republican but “Hang Mike Pence!” Should I say anything about Trump, seeing he’s not president now? Using the words “hurt” and “myself” is dangerous business, and I’m not Johnny Cash. Only I will be hurt as I go to look at the fur babies today. Have I arrived at Acceptance? Fuck no, never Lu, but a new circle. I look at dogs, I go to Walmart, and then there are tacos. It’s my routine for Saturday. Betray my son, relive a car accident, and my humiliations at BWW over and over.
It’s all my fault, Lady Lu. I’m not blaming anybody else for being thirty-seven and living this way. That’s one more fact. I’m getting older, and that is why my neck hurts? It could be the fact that I haven’t gotten what I deserve. Believe me, it’s nothing good, Lunalesca. Seeing as I’m not having sex anytime soon, the neck is overlooked. Gulping in terror. There’s that fancy meal I was supposed to have on Emergence but wasn’t that awesome. Luna, I am what I am. I deserve a noose but to quote Stephen King, God is Cruel, I know. I live choking on words, wanting to puke my guts out, eating “good,” going broke. Routine Luna, to imagine what’s next. What Comes NECK B
230 Days Without B III
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will