It’s not some “Summertime Sadness…” (Cherry would appreciate this.) And I would say it’s a “Cruel Summer…” (Braxton and Virgil’s potential stepmom will visit in the Winter). Anyway, Hell seems to be full-time. But ice water? Braxton’s The Bar, Virgil
Tuesday, July 15, 2025
Journey 014 ~Braxton’s The Bar, Virgil~
Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? I tell you that all the time. Braxton. Virgil? Our two-legged kids. But a drink.
I could use a drink. No! “I could really use a wish right now.” There are plenty of “Airplanes” in the night sky. Or there will be with Effing MAGA in charge. But FDT, two times! Besides, I don’t want to talk about the Epstein List. We, being parents, Love.
Today I have you, my beautiful wife. There’s Braxton. There will always be Braxton, as he told me yesterday, “You’ll Be In My Heart” from the Rainbow Bridge, Heaven, wherever.
I checked Virgil, who seems to be bug-free. Maybe a few bites, but nothing I can see to pull off. And speaking of pulling things off. Being a good dad to our two-legged kids. Trying.
With all my blessings, I wish I could stop crying.
Oh No, “My Love!” These aren’t happy tears. Not like the Sia song from The Twilight Saga: Eclipse. If anything, the tears help wash off the blood of my firstborn furry son. But I wasn’t crying for Braxton. Not today.
Would that make it better? I had around seventy days just for that after he died. As I worked on Braxton’s novel, I was reminded of the Assistant Store Manager. Eff that guy! Effing meathead. Anyway, he moved me from the Denial stage to Anger. Freaking Vampire, Zombie, Effing TICK! A parasite is what I am. Maybe I’ll catch something and join Little B III.
Enough bites to bleed out. But “I just-just got-to-got-to-got-to” keep the blood pumping, don’t I? I’m saving Virgil, I love you, and a man provides.
“Here Comes Success.” I should toast to it. But then I wouldn’t remember. Forgetfulness and Ignorance. Joy and Pain, as Frankie Beverly sings on. Did you know? I didn’t, Love.
You didn’t know I would be such a crybaby who sweats bullets, bleeds for my boys. And my sexual appetite. I wish I could keep it in my pants. Have you looked in a mirror?
“Because maybe. You’re gonna be the one that saves me. And after all. You’re my wonderwall,” thank you, Ryan Adams. But seriously, “My Love,” “Remember when we first met. And everything was still a bet, in Love’s game. SIGH, I spit out songs. Filling you up, sweating for THEM, crying for B. I’m left. A desert. Braxton’s The Bar, Virgil.
1626 Days Without B III, Day 1067 of Virgil’s Arrival
B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will