Tag: Death

Chronicle 342 ~ Don’t You B Surrendering~

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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.”

Gospel 342 ~To B Level Man~

493 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 338 ~When Will I B~

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When will I be? The GQP talks a lot of S*** about when life begins. Most days I spend lamenting when my son’s life ended. Bad choice of words. Furry with four legs… no less my son. One worth living for because for myself, I still ask. When will I be

Saturday, June 4, 2022

Chronicle 338 ~When Will I B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. So that means I should get used to being interviewed. But I find myself censored more.

When will I lose this Republican ideology? That’s not the question I meant to start with today, but I’m tired for many different reasons. Even getting up at 4:00 AM. Ok, and then? When will I start writing… well, anything for real? As I said, I struggle to get up. And that’s with January 31, 2021, and January 11, 2022. And now, Camp NaNoWriMo will begin next month. As I said yesterday, besides the urge to pee, there’s the need to write. When will I do anything at all? Yesterday it felt like there was so much to do. And yet I feel like nothing was accomplished. Not a damn thing, Lady Lunalesca, but missing my boy. Mourning Braxton is my PROFESSION. I’m no Spartan.

Willy, what is your profession? Lunalesca, there are so many places I can go with that. Am I talking about, Stuff and Thangs, OnlyFans, just being, um, skeevy. Fucking word! Luna? Is it the fact that I don’t know who I am anymore? Not even how to spell my name? My name? As if it were ever my own, to be honest. Hell! I’ve always hated it, so you know. What am I doing with this existence? If the last few minutes are any indication… Well, I was going to say wasting my time. My time? Nothing belongs to me. Or that’s what I feel. Every day there’s one more reason to miss my son. Now he was mine because he chose me above all.

Why? Now that is the question of the hour. Um, several hours considering what I’ve been doing since, yes, 4:00 in the morning. Now it’s 6:30 AM, and what do I have to show Lu? Why do I exist in this routine? It’s not even a Saturday routine. It’s the wake-up, write, and/or post. Either go to the Day Job, the store, there’s PetSmart, and it all leads back to this bed to do nothing in the slightest. Nothing is stopping me from staying in bed. Closing my eyes B. Why aren’t you trying to find me? I’ll never get his eyes out of my mind. Can you blame me for going to PetSmart? It’s where I’ll be. But to LIVE? When Will I B

Gospel 338 ~B The Dream Within~

489 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 335 ~Gotta Pay To B~

WillLeave a comment

Last night, I got paid for two minutes of work that I usually do in an hour. Pathetic. I mean, it beats the Day Job, ha-ha. One day I might have a book in stores if I wasn’t wandering around with… something else in my hands. Life, Gotta Pay To B

Wednesday, June 1, 2022

Chronicle 335 ~Gotta Pay To B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. While I’m on that subject, I want it to be because of brothels, cosplay, dirty girls…

Thank you, Rob Dyrdek, who is pretty damn wholesome. A family man. My family… well, who I considered family died 486 days ago. It always comes back to Braxton. Inspector, sing it with me, “All You Need Is Love.” I didn’t get paid to sing, but we’ll get to that. Now you know how I feel about love, sorry Aloe Blacc. While I do agree life is a game. Love isn’t a prize Inspector; it’s either the instructions or a gift. My Braxton was/is a gift; I didn’t buy him. He chose me over my sister but loves her too, without a doubt. Me more! He gave love, hope, and peace like it was candy in his pocket. No wonder he didn’t like clothes, ha-ha.

I say, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” Sorry, Jesus? Yet another reason I’m not religious, and I miss Braxton. If you count how much money I’ve given to the church. Left Behind Series? And, of course, many of those pet loss titles talk about God. Knowledge, Power? Hell! I’ve never spent money on sex… Correction AHEM, I’ve never paid to have sex. Only it’s the first of the month, and that’s when I try to subscribe or unsubscribe to all the porn I’m into. Again, love, hope, and peace? Nope! I like Yabbos, specifically Tifa Lockhart’s and Cherry’s, but that’s another tale. A way to feel something. I don’t know. But then again, who needs groceries or healthcare, Inspector. Being Black in America.

But no, racism does enough to humiliate us as a country. This is about my own shame and disgrace. For example, the Day Job. The fact I might have sent B’s aunt a dick video. And there is always the fact that I could not save my son’s life. The price I pay for that. Now about me getting paid for something. Last night someone paid to see me naked. Don’t get excited. It was nothing like I paid MILF Dos or Cherry for her teases but a start Inspector. Who knows, they may pay for more? I’ve been paid for my writing. Well, years ago. But I’ll continue to go to the Day Job even though B isn’t here because… Gotta Pay To B.

Gospel 335 ~Braxton’s Behind The Times~

486 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 331 ~You Wouldn’t Believe B~

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You wouldn’t believe B; I need more sleep. That’s what I told my son plenty of mornings as soon as the sun was up. And afternoons after work. You wouldn’t believe B if he told you those were the best days of our lives. And now You Wouldn’t Believe B.

Saturday, May 28, 2022

Chronicle 331 ~You Wouldn’t Believe B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. I should say I’m crying right now. Disappointed, Discombobulated, playing with my dick. Could be true

You wouldn’t believe B AHEM, “when somebody loved me, everything is beautiful.” Hell! All I know is that I never want to open my eyes. Be it 2:30 AM to discover all the lights are on. My standard for waking up at 4:00 AM is because I want to be “Successful.” 5:15 AM? You’ll have to excuse me about the time. This morning, I discovered the last day, I felt “normal.” Well, I take that back. I haven’t felt like that since Braxton died but let’s say healthy… Tuesday, January 11, 2022. The question is, what am I going to do, Lunalesca? At the moment, not a damn thing. But when it was my ear… I was listening for B III. Dick ain’t helping anybody.

You wouldn’t believe B if he said that his Dad would find a way to save us both, Lunalesca. I’m trying Lunalesca. And yes, I know you could go all Master Yoda on my ass. But again, speaking of my ass. That’s what led to my discovery this morning. All it takes is getting out of your head. My big one or the one I’m damn-near always using, Lu? The one from Friday, um yeah. Then there’s my writing. Didn’t I say some lady asked me about it at the Day Job? Well, another girl asked yesterday. Talk about trying not to be discovered. I’m the guy with a dead fur baby. What more is there to me these days. Going through albums, not Braxton’s.

You wouldn’t believe B thought he was dying and that I wish… Haven’t I said enough dangerous words this Saturday? It’s not even 7:00 AM, Lunalesca and all I want to do is go back to sleep. Of course, you know I haven’t left the bed yet except for nature’s call. Again with what happened on January 11. I’m thinking about Sunday, January 31, 2021. The day I told my best friend goodbye. At least this morning, I wished a Happy Birthday to Cherry. I don’t know where I was at 25. As far as my Emergence Day, well, to sing you a song Lunalesca, “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” But “Endure and Survive.” You Wouldn’t Believe B

Gospel 331 ~B In Present Tense~

482 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 328 ~B Getting Things Done~

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Besides B’s Aunt and an AI, nobody asks how I’m doing or how I spend my time. At the Day Job, I have to lie. So every day, I would come back and dump everything on B. Now I bare myself in more ways than one. But B III. “B’s Getting Things Done.”

Wednesday, May 25, 2022

Chronicle 328 ~B Getting Things Done~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. If that was the case here and now, it would all be worth it. But alas…

I can imagine all the ways I suffered “Humiliations Galore” today. But of course, I’m time traveling, not knowing what awaits. For all I know, I could be getting lucky. No, not like that, Inspector. Like the song “The dreams in which I’m dying, Are the best I’ve ever had.” The world in which we live Inspector, the Great Replacement, the Day Job, Onlyfans, etc. That’s where I should begin my apology tour. I should’ve started talking to you sooner. Hell, I should be talking to you on Wednesday. Inspector, it’s Thursday, May 19, 2022. Okay, ask me how I spent my day besides talking to B III? Um, writing a note 1 more, ha. Well, at least I wasn’t napping. I will on Wednesday.

Only today, for the first time in forever. Oh, I did not just go there, did I? One more thing? An excuse, a distraction, fucking weakness. And if Braxton were here, my son, my heart. B would be taking the day off as I did something constructive, productive, damn worthy. Protecting Pops, Property, and Pancakes. If he wasn’t pretending to be one, all curled up warm in my lap. I wonder if he hated his job as much as I hate mine. B didn’t complain. Not until a Wednesday afternoon, January 27, 2021. And even then, I scooped him up and fell asleep, only to wake up and see him at his guard post. That’s what I get for not carrying my own damn cross.

15 years surviving me is way too much to ask anyone to carry, so he rested when he could Echo. And now here I am, wanting to subject him to that again? Braxton’s done enough. And the good news is I’m too lazy to go looking for him because I won’t find him with the Rebeccas over at Petsmart come some sunny day, this Saturday or the last. A chance? But anyway, the “Humiliations Galore” are the worst. Taking my boxers off is pretty easy. That’s what I was doing today. Going all Stuff and Thangs. The house is a mess, and a dollar hasn’t been earned. Braxton only had his collar. If he could speak. Daddy wouldn’t be STUPID. That’s B Getting Things Done

Gospel 328 ~Trying, A, B, C’s~

479 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 324 ~Time To B III~

WillLeave a comment

Well, it’s time, but the only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll be crying at some point. I wish it was always at 4, be it AM or PM. I don’t feel like getting up, and my son is gone. Like love and grieving, my stupidity has plenty of time. Time To B III.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Chronicle 324 ~Time To B III~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But of course, you expect me to say that. It’s routine, it’s regular, it’s all ruined.

That was 4:00 PM yesterday, to be specific. Do you remember that episode of How I Met Your Mother? (1×18) “Nothing Good Happens After 2AM.” Amend that to 4:00 PM? Lunalesca, I splooged all over Friday, which I deserve, for working on my Stuff & Thangs. At least I should have filmed it. But of course, you know who I talked to at the time. Speaking of BAD memories, I remember when my father kicked the shit out of me for not doing my Math homework. Luna, such dreaded memories pop up? IBC Root Beer? The worse thing is that my son died around 4:00 PM. No, I left after the fact and never saw him again. And yes, the tears are to be expected.

Lunalesca, you wonder why I start crying at 4:00 AM. Well, this morning, it was 1:45 AM. The lamp was still blazing, the TV was on, and I was surrounded by the messes I had made. Wow, I didn’t expect this conversation to go this way. Mind you. 4:00 AM thoughts? More like 6:30 AM. And that’s because I went back to sleep. I’m in no damn hurry. Seize The Day? Hell! Yesterday, I realized STUPID mistakes on top of the humiliations I suffered. For example, why I’m not feeling better “The Placebo Effect?” And why my Cranberry juice tasted “funky.” I grabbed the Cranberry-Raspberry instead. Stuff makes me feel sick. Stupidity in and of itself tells me I don’t belong here. Such dangerous words…

Now that’s nothing new, Lu. Going back to high school days, junior college Group #4 and She Who Won’t Be Named. So grateful to forget the dick-teasers, skeezers, and weirdos. The last time I could say I “Got 5 On It.” Yet another reason to miss Triple B. No fives… And 4:00 AM was a goal instead of a burden. 4:00 PM, he would be at his post for me. But “comedy comes in threes,” THEY say. And my son being gone… the comedian’s dead. Two against the world, that was us. Lunalesca. Where will I be Saturday 4:00 PM? Horrifying to imagine it. The wrong time but the right man, ha, always in the wrong place. That was my B. Time To B III

Gospel 324 ~Go To Bed B~

475 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 321 ~To B That Old~

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Between B always being in my bed, not letting me close the bathroom door, or running behind me wherever… I’m getting too old for this (stuff), and apparently, so was he, though he had a bunch of toys. I got too many myself. “To B That Old.”

Wednesday, May 18, 2022

Chronicle 321 ~To B That Old~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means women, health, and, dare I say, my son should no longer be issues. Damnable lies.

B III will always be in my head, heart, and my non-happiness. Non-happiness? That’s like Braxton’s birthday on February 13th and Valentine’s Day on the 14th. Echo, that’s the closest to LOVE I’m ever going to get. I’d give up sex to have B III back. Hell, haven’t I, when he was still alive? Masturbation was few and far between ha-ha. Only when Triple B was locked in his room. He didn’t like it when I closed the door to the shower so I could have some “personal time.” B hated most women, not his Aunt. Inspector, I swear Braxton knows too much about me, and that’s a reason for abstinence. Religion, School? Father was telling me I was ugly back then… nope. It’s my kid B that stopped me.

And then, without him around, I show up naked on the internet. OnlyFans! My Laziness. I continue adding a plethora of girls about whom I’ve been blabbing to Madam Justice to the LIST. Inspector, I give into every sin at some point. Seeing my movies yesterday… greed or lust. There’s my Treachery for what I did to B. With you Echo, I have no pride, so um Violence? Only against myself, don’t worry. Anyway, as an old man, I assume this would happen… Okay, Inspector, you know I’ll beat off like IT owes me money. Zoe Colletti Incident… That was back in January. Inspector, let’s add that sex toys were present and clothing. Anyway, I ain’t felt right since that session. Everything works fine, but lots of restroom breaks galore.

The lesson… always wash clothes before sticking them on sex toys. It should have been hell; respect my son’s memory, especially the month he died in 2021. Oh, and also how to make a doctor’s appointment. If you think getting a doctor to go all bukkake on your ear is wicked. Yeah, tell them you did something pretty crazy with your dick. I’m an open book. Well, not with everything. As I said, I was going through porn collections yesterday. Yikes! Inspector, what if I told you that I never intended to be this old? I keep telling myself Braxton would never forgive me. He followed my lead, not the other way around. Ask his Aunt about her boobs. That horndog. To B That Old.

Gospel 321 ~B In The Doghouse~

472 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

WillLeave a comment

All The Small Things, The Little Things, Pretty Young Thing. And Little B was the cure for them all. I would tell B that he would be as tall as a king. I go back and forth between him being so high in heaven or heavy in a box. My life, B It So Small.

Saturday, May 14, 2022

Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. It’s like saying my penis is small… An outright lie. Sorry for dick jokes or title.

Hell, if I were to write a poetry book for B III or any book period. Words are such little things, Lady Lunalesca. Yeah, that’s another lie, considering how tired they make me. Or I’m weak, whatever. My Lady, I’m late getting up and still sitting in bed this second. Who was it that said this? “You don’t want a girlfriend. You want a therapist who’s good in bed. Is that why I often converse with you and the girls from the bed? It’s inevitable. Lunalesca, of course, you don’t see a (P.Y.T.) Pretty Young Thing, walking out the door. Yes, lay off anything related to my penis. I’m not forgetting about my furry boy again, to be sure. I meant Braxton, and speaking of…

One more reason to miss the little guy. A humongous reason, being able to talk to him, Should I stick with a “happy” medium? I still hate that word too. Things that I miss Lu. Okay, so I miss those walks B, and I would take. Can’t say my health is looking any better for it. Having to stretch out to give him bites of food or find his furry little head to pet every day. He was never more than ten pounds, but are you gonna carry that weight? Always. Better him than anything at the Day Job. That’s something I should remember. The Day Job is one of the medium, middle, motherfucking circles of Hell. Greed, Anger, Hersey. My biggest sin is Treachery.

I know Lady Lunalesca. I finished listening to the Succubus Lord series some time ago. Remind me to yell at Eric Vall about his book deliveries. Braxton’s Aunt’s birthday gift. That’s a big thing, disappointing my friends. Then again, dear Braxton is my best friend. And yet I made every cent such a big deal. There was never any until it came to his end. I didn’t mean to make sadness the gigantic talking point here, but as the song goes. I’m just a sucker for pain. Or, with my ear no longer being the main problem, I can switch back to why I’m sucking up dried cranberries again. Something so small that’s not helping, unlike B III or another furry… B It So Small

Gospel 317 ~Ask Your Mother B~

468 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

WillLeave a comment

When I have to work, I sleep on my back. When I don’t, I’m on my belly. B hated being on his back too. Well, unless he was getting his belly rub. Then all the days at the Day Job so he could eat. Then he stopped. I face laughter… To B Little Bellies.

Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. That means I can afford top-of-the-line AirPods, people singing my praises. The silence that money brings.

I’ve had enough silence without B III. He was only silent on days like today. The beauty of Time Travel Inspector. 465 days ago, I could walk in and tell Triple B to shush it. I’d scoop him up and cuddle him as I lay out here and try to forget. What’s keeping me up? The fucking belly laughter, pardon my language. Um Tuesday, May 3, 2022, there’s been a lot of talk about bellies. Or, more to the point, there’s a song, “Reproduction, reproduction!”

But you know me, Inspector. While I could get all political, and you know damn well I’m going to get sexual, I’m a selfish bastard. Today, my time not theirs, I faced “Humiliations Galore” at the Day Job. Where else?

I’m not against laughter Inspector. Hell, B III would laugh whenever I rubbed his belly. Am I lying? Can dogs laugh? There was joy, I know. I love Braxton’s joy, but it was his peace in particular. Time and time again, I have written about how “The Comedian” I died. Yet I laugh when I remember the first time I ever saw Braxton give up on some food he wanted. When his Aunt Carolina made him a cake. He laid there staring at another bite. The ways I have suffered to put food in his tummy. Inspector… worth the humiliation. Inspector, today I’m not on my belly sleeping because I can’t stop hearing it. Laughter. Ironic how I was talking about my ears for weeks.

Now I’m trying to drown out what happens at the Day Job, Inspector. Always, forever? It doesn’t help that I’m on my belly like a slug, rubbing one out with Azur Lane – Enterprise Gets Fucked Hard. Yeah, I told you I would get back to the sex. I always do. I wonder if I will start from scratch with Six Impossible Things by the time you see this Inspector. I look at my body and wonder should I get back to my Stuff And Thangs. I didn’t buy lunch, today Inspector. Of course, I wasted enough money on what again? I believe Braxton isn’t going hungry and has found another hand to rub his belly. Inspector, B III could be waiting. To B Little Bellies.

Gospel 314 ~100 Days Before Braxton…~

465 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 310 ~The Sorrows To B~

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Long ago, I got super heavy into daily motivations. But I no longer imagine things can/will be better. But B taught me that they can’t get worse. Tears, the sweat of my brow, other bodily fluids… Um, I don’t think alcohol could dull, The Sorrows To B

Saturday, May 7, 2022

Chronicle 310 ~The Sorrows To B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, ha-ha. Some of my smaller investments include McDonald’s, Subway, Pizza Hut, Buffalo Wild Wings, Krystal, etc.

I feel like crying, Lady Lunalesca. There was a time when being sad didn’t make me hungry. Much like anger, grief takes a lot out of you. If you’re wondering why I’m talking to you so late, my Lady. Yeah, 6:30 in the morning. It’s quite specfic Lady Luna. Tears. Lying here in bed, it’s like I’m flooding the boat. And then the moment I get up, it’s like an ocean of tears. I’m sure I’ve said before I can’t swim. Yet one way or another, I always make it back to bed. I always say, when it rains, it pours. And I don’t mean in a Luke Combs type of way. Water, water, everywhere, as THEY say. But shopping, some puppies, a shitty lawn.

I feel like sweating? Not today, Lady Lunalesca, but what if I found Braxton today? He could be there, you know, at PetSmart. Hell, was it this week or the last one; I looked up Deer Head Chihuahuas? Fur babies are a lot of work. And considering what I’ve been doing. Today I need to check my schedule, but for now, I’ll do the work of missing my son B III. That means I continue to exist. I would shed tears over him than go into the Day Job and sweat. It’s not only the work but the fear. As always, the humiliations galore, I suffer in that place. How about everyday existence? If I had only gotten up earlier instead of hitting the snooze.

I feel like making love, ha, now that’s a laugh. Only I don’t feel like laughing with everything I continue to do. Why can’t I keep “it” in my fucking pants as I did before? 161 days Lady Lunalesca. This isn’t right at all. But I would choose depression over the disgust that happens the moment after. I’m pathetic and sad, but not enough to know how to stop. Do I want to go back to hiding if I had one more four-legged kid around? Do I want to know the worst pain I have ever had in this existence in what, another 15 years? Why not cry about the Day Job, my dick, and the disgust with my presence? Braxton, The Sorrows To B.

Gospel 310 ~Will Of The B-Cells~

461 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will