Tag: Mess

Gospel 259 ~It’s Messy B Leaving~

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I’m not much of a neat freak. I only clean when pretty girls or hateful fathers come by. Braxton, though, if he didn’t go outside, it meant his bathroom spot needed cleaning, and with my hours, sometimes I would walk in and wow. It’s Messy B Leaving.

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Gospel 259 ~It’s Messy B Leaving~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I still want to change my future kid’s diapers. No, Braxton’s bathroom pad, once more.

Shit, it’s been, um wow, forty-five days, while I am still very much attached to Braxton today. Inspector Echo, B III’s pad has been clean since he left me. What’re a few more smells to miss? I would indeed live in that filth than how I’ve been spending forty-five days. Disgusting, who am I to say, nature’s calling. I still haven’t checked the fridge when it comes to his food. Maybe I should donate it to a pet shelter, hmm? One, what if it was the food that took my son? Two, if I give it away, who’s to say I wouldn’t look around some. And three I saw a dog on Sunday but I didn’t want him or her. One Deer Head Chihuahua, please…

Not that many people giving them up, and what about buying one? With all the money I’m spending daily, and nothing is helping. I’ve thought again about buying more guns, but I’m trying to stay far away from the ones I do have. What’s one more sin, but then B? To you, Inspector Echo, this is as close to “Bargaining” as I’m going to get. How many sins have I renounced trying to what… talk my way into Heaven? Anything to see Braxton again because I know he isn’t coming back here. Yeah, says the man refilling a water bowl. I hid things from Braxton, I’ll admit that. What parent doesn’t? Lead me not into temptation, so I’m cleaning out my closet or stuffing it?

Nothing else to think about other than my son, warm in his bed. For a bit longer without one single breath. He was a mess, and so was I as the vet and her assistant looked on. You know how I hate to leave a mess, but by all accounts, I did that day… Braxton. Inspector Echo, my heart to this day is broken, my soul is shattered, and my mind. As the song goes, where is my mind? No longer in the trash, the gutter, the filth unless you count specific books and music. I want to continue to deny everything, to let go of anger, and Heaven isn’t too far away, is it?

Was that joke dark or messy? It’s Messy B Leaving

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Episode 243 ~Deadline, To Fill Will~

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Winston Smith said; “we are the dead” you want to know what my Room 101 is… being alone, “B III” is hanging in there, and I see a couple of good people too, the problem is though, I’m not one of them. “Deadline, To Fill Will”

Friday, March 1, 2019

Episode 243 ~Deadline, To Fill Will~

Hey Lady Sophia,
How To Make One Million Dollars, create a holiday I will enjoy. As you can see, I still haven’t won PCH, but I remember those days I was heavy into it, and then they came down south. I watched them drive around and then the grand prize was for someone else sigh.

Remission, I mean no disrespect to people who suffer from illnesses. Hell, the word comes to mind because of Roman Reigns in WWE, but I imagine that’s what it feels like to have so much money. The disease known as your life is in remission. What about the pain I endure, I’ve had plenty of those moments. Something in my eye, a toothache, my weak stomach. Which of course these days as I told “Indiana Gone” every day I continue to play Prometheus. So some “bird” gives me a choice, my heart or my privates, yeah still a private day. What did I say about a “life in remission?” Yeah because I “pretty much” walk around like a zombie all day working. Subsisting off, well that’s the thing there’s nothing, I go to work and how many times do I repeat this. My wants are impossible, immoral, illegal and insane.

Revenge, people are heading for the hills but it’s like I’m Dr. Jekyll, and I want to kill Mr. Hyde, no I’m not suicidal. Hell staying up half the night writing and of course, I missed the deadline, get it, scribbling gives me life? How about being Dr. Frankenstein and making a monster. Who was the bigger monster? Now let’s go modern, take the Rage Virus for example. I’m like the mother who’s infected and with my sick lips… hell everyone wants to tear me apart. Maybe I’m bent on my destruction. Every beautiful thing I desire is like the Road Runner, and I’m like Wile E. Coyote am a subscriber to ACME products. Because I asked one girl out and she blocked me. Asked to subscribe to another, but I don’t want to risk her friendship but… she’s hot.

Renounce; the man I am, but I don’t know who that is anymore. The basics today, I’m getting sick, my throat hurts something awful, I’m still exhausted, I’m a bit warm. Only people call me sick for plenty of other reasons. I would say I get to renounce the human race, but my “father” hell do I count him as human. Like me, he pretends, and if he thinks he’s getting me as a “friend” on Facebook, geez I hate him in real life honestly. I said before that “A Comedian Died Today” and there is this idea that I have to be something else. Only who gets to choose, a dead man rises for what, Deadline, To Fill Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Episode 236 ~Contents May Explode Will~

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They say the proof is always in the pudding, trust me when I say that is not what was coming out of my son when I returned to the house, I’m glad that mess is out of his system though but what about the contents of me. Contents May Explode Will.

Friday, February 22, 2019

Episode 236 ~Contents May Explode Will~

Hey Lady Sophia,
How To Make One Million Dollars, if I keep my mouth shut at work… I wouldn’t even come close. If I continue to grow “wiser,” reading so many dozens of Kindle books, I’m sure I’ll make that amount but for somebody else. Like Skye Warren needs more of my money. How about a self-cleaning doggie pad or litter box, they have those?

Like “B III” has a new nickname “Brown Dynamite” but we’ll get to that. Considering it was the better part of my day and I won’t blame B III for getting sick. Only I feel ill every day I go to work; it’s how I know I have guts. My brain is being bombarded by music, motivations, and musings, that I’m dying to tell you and the other girls. Only all that comes out is this rush of rubbish and rubble always. As dangerous as writing is this is the least harm I can do to myself or anybody. I didn’t even post yesterday, but I didn’t fight either, I didn’t give into my WRATH.

Now LUST Lady Sophia, shit (Language) there’s a reason I didn’t get done writing until around ten last night. Too busy drooling; yeah, don’t I wish, fapping over Angie Varona’s incredible tits. Oh and Jessica Nigri, throw Whitney Wright and “Okay” under the bus. It only got worst this morning in the shower. I don’t know what I’m more ashamed of, what came out of the big head or the little one and why am I telling you? Now that’s the question. Someone asked me, why I have my reasons. You know my lust after one girl broke me and blogging is putting the pieces back together. And if it’s not that then I’m looking for someplace, something or someone, strangely I like writing daily.

Blogging brings me back to Triple B, how before I could start writing I had to clean up his mess. Whatever was wrong this morning? So it got me to wondering a while that I still haven’t done a thing with the trash that is my life. So many books that have never seen the light of day. While I so want to give into my Wrath and I indulge Lust; it’s SLOTH that is the worst. I don’t get up at all unless I’m mad as Hell or ready to fuck. Come on I know dirtier words still awesome to hear the MILF say it though. I’m going to explode if I don’t talk to her again if I don’t ask the other MILF out. If I don’t escape my cage, write my book, save my son, everything I am; Contents May Explode Will.

I Will Have No Fear