Like father, like son; when I’m sick, or life is trouble, I stay in bed. B III would hide under it. He didn’t want to die. He wanted me to quit worrying, even until the end. No retreat, no surrender. Us against the world. Now Don’t You B Surrendering
Wednesday, June 8, 2022
Chronicle 342 ~ Don’t You B Surrendering~
Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so am I a slave, a sorry sack of shit? Have I surrendered to the money?
Two things. First, I will get nailed by some editing services for the word “slave.” Negative connotations? Well, Duh, been called worse! The second is sex. How many days no masturbation? Hell! I wish I could say that was a choice but no. I got sick sometime Monday morning. I barely survived Tuesday. Shut up, Hemingway, about me using an adverb in “my” writing. I’ll be sounding like Cherry in a minute. Oh, I’m trying not to become sex-crazed. But again, I’ll cave at some point. Whether it be a pair of English Yabbos or Fuu from Samurai Champloo. Or how about the women of Fear/The Walking Dead? Missing Alicia. In fighting such desires, the battle is already lost. If only my Braxton were here.
He ain’t a shrink but didn’t I say he got an honorary Ph.D.? My point is that I wouldn’t be living my life “This Way.” When you’re a father, a daddy, your child’s needs come first. You know I have no respect for those guys who need a wife, daughter, mother, sister, etc. To see women as people. Oh, I need B III to see people as worth anything. Just look at me, Inspector. It’s been a while since my last pill, and even that is killing me. Yes, I remember. Life had gotten the best of me, and I tried… well, to answer the age-old question. I didn’t die, but I wanted to. And Monday, I was broken. How long can I stay away?
You know from going back to the doctor’s office? If Triple B were here, I would have done so already. Do you know why? Tuesday, as I said, I was, as the song goes, “I’m bleeding and broken though I’ve never spoken. I come undone in this mad season.” Strength? Inspector, I didn’t have it to refill B’s water bowl or get up for his meds. That won’t do. I have surrendered to my grief. Will I continue this way until the end? I don’t know or care to. B wouldn’t want that; he wouldn’t want me following him… Well, he knew his path. But I am lost. On Monday, I fought because “He Lives In You.” B III would bark, “Don’t You B Surrendering.”
493 Days Without B III
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,