I’m going to break a hand someday. Will it be on the shower tile, a Day Job locker, or will I finally go all out? Everything happens for a reason. When my ears were stopped up, and I couldn’t hear people’s jokes? Your Punchline Means My Punches.
Monday, March 20, 2023
Saga 262 ~Your Punchline Means My Punches~
Two-Hundred and Eighty-Forth Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now. And hopefully, I don’t get as raw-dogged as all the others. Always practice safe sex, guys ha-ha.
Why am I laughing? For all the people that make fun of me, you know who’s the worst. I think Taylor Swift had it right “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” Braxton’s knowledge. That’s why he would stomp on my head every morning. Oh, look, here’s my tears for this morning. All I have to do is remember that his purpose was to protect, save, and love. And if punching me in the face with those little legs did the trick. Well, then do it. My Braxton. While I’m all in a musical mood, “It’s no surprise to me, I am my own worst enemy.” Braxton protected me from bullies. The two biggest being my old man and me.” The mirror Madam… SIGH
Nah! “I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror.” Hah! Do I not want to eff Taylor Swift anymore? Trust me, Madam. We’ll get to that. Trump was staring at the sun. He’s one sad joke. But I’m usually up before the sun. Even if it’s not at 4AM as I planned. Now if I were a better man, I would change “sun” to “son.” Braxton’s eyes served as a mirror. Only within them, I saw a much better man. Somebody I wanted to be. Not now. Every day if I don’t start the day thinking, “my son is dead,” it’s, “I’ll join him, my B III.” It wouldn’t be a punch in the gut to anyone. Then again, no more jokes.
Punchlines! And here’s another one, Madam. The phone has become the sun. Oh, the light. And I spend at least a half hour punching at the bedsheets. Wayward dick Madam. Staring at orbs, I want more than any sun. Those are called breasts, tits, yabbos, fun bags, dirty pillows, etc. To think of such a release Madam. But instead, I get so angry. Please! Not at women. It’s the fact that I have to punch into the Day Job, and for what now, hmm? It was wanting to throw punches in that Hell. Even after saying the comedian is dead. Myself. But no! I let those bastards’ punchlines go unpunched, and Braxton paid the price. Virgil’s no joke, me neither. Your Punchline Means My Punches
778 Days Without B III, Day 219 of Virgil’s Arrival
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,