Gospel 339 ~It’s Not B Con~

Convict, Con Man, “Comic-Con,” okay, I’ve only been a bit of a cheat. I went to Juvenile hall once, and why I’ve wanted to go to Comic-Con. There’s plenty I want to see. My son, alive again. I can never forget him. Only, “It’s Not B Con” lately.

Saturday, June 5, 2021

Gospel 339 ~It’s Not B Con~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I ask myself, what am I doing wrong? I’m not jailed, cheating, hosting a panel.

No, my Lazy Ass, Lady Lu. Like today I said I was going to write out my dreams. There was the one where I was playing hockey, all D2: The Mighty Ducks. I’m pretty offended. In one more vision, I had a stalker and not the pretty Autumn Reeser as Taylor Townsend. He was a white man, and nobody heard me until I found his shoes in a plastic case. Last night I dreamed I was at work, and I got into trouble for “Stuff And Thangs.” I saw this sheet with marks by shoes, and the girl said I’d done well but with what I saw on the clock. It took me a minute, but feet were the overlying factor. I’m not that freaky.

If I had to guess, I would say first my feet are cold. Everything comes back to Braxton, and he would lie on my feet. His pillow was always below them, and without Braxton, Luna. The second I think, has to do with what I’m doing now. It’s like I want to be seen, but at the same time, I ain’t going nowhere like a display. Without Braxton, who’s watching? Lastly, the Day Job dream. I should have known better since the girl ragging me hasn’t worked there in years. Hell Lady Lu, I want to leave; B wanted that too. So I stay okay? Again I’m not explaining this to some Federal prosecutor, disappointed Friends. Or adoring Fan base. Even B III left me.

I mean, didn’t I ask him to? Only I remain stuck right here, Lady Lu. One more reason for the ice. When I went to honor B today, I didn’t even put on socks. I think of the 9th Circle. For some reason, I was scared to escape the stalker. As I said, I found shoes, but I needed to get dressed, and I wouldn’t look in the closet. Escape naked… the shoes wouldn’t move. If I did get away from the Day Job, I wouldn’t have anything. The shoes were right or wrong, but not one pair fit me, and so this week I’ve been busy. Prose, Posing, Prayer. Leaving my lips, “Oh God!” Because I’m staying here. The world It’s Not B Con.

125 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

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