Saga 105 ~Virgil Speaks, B’s Words~

I never read anything of B III’s puppyhood, so his birthday is February 13, 2005. But I’m most sure of the day, the hour, the moment he left me. I got V’s papers. What about my own? No wonder my eyes hurt. And my ears? “Virgil Speaks, B’s Words”

Friday, October 14, 2022

Saga 105 ~Virgil Speaks, B’s Words~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I have the time to train Virgil with those buttons that say words, right?

More like I’m showing how lazy I am because I don’t need a billion to do that. Now bringing Braxton back from a pile of ashes… That’s dark. But I’m not reading about reincarnation anymore. Then again, I don’t know. Time-Travel, Sunday, October 9, 2022. Which, of course, is why we’re talking today. This week sucks something awful. No, I don’t mean me. Sorry, sex talk, and I am trying to curb back. How I punish myself. How I wish. Why not with reading? Every time I finish a book, unlike these conversations, I have to see what I’ve done. All the books I’ve read, and I’m shooting for 52 in a year. Of 41, only 5 haven’t related to dogs in some way Sophia.

I’m sure we’ve had this conversation before. Or was it with the other girls around here (sigh), “It Doesn’t Matter?” I don’t deserve any respite. “The Cabin at the End of the World” was the only one I CHOSE to read. As I told Braxton’s Aunt. I’m always for an apocalypse. Again that happened on Sunday, January 31, 2021. I sit on the loveseat. Not as often as I like, but I do. Only reading there… Hell! I might have had the energy before Tuesday, January 11, 2022. I know I keep focusing on those dates. The GOP be damned. Sophia, I don’t run from history. But that history is resulting in some big bills. As you can see, I didn’t visit the doctor today.

What about Virgil? I could take him to the doctor, and the groomers on his birthday and finally, say I’m trying to do right by him. Yeah, tell that to Braxton after 15 years. Starting with a schedule from the Day Job (shudders). I had no idea that would be B III’s last day. Why not read a receipt if I decide to pick up food now or the Friday you read this, Sophia? In the end, many years from now. Oh, it makes me sad or exhausted; I’m not sure anymore which is worse. I’ll read some paperwork about Virgil. By then, I’ll have B’s name on my flesh. I know Virgil. Braxton, he’s not will repeat my firstborn’s words. Virgil Speaks, B’s Words

621 Days Without B III, Day 062 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Saga 098 ~Virgil’s Story, Yet B’s…~

55 days and how has Virgil’s life been so far. What, he’s hacked up… oh nothing. It nearly scared me to death. When I discovered it was part of B’s heart problems. I’d gladly taken it myself. Beats feeling like this always. “Virgil’s Story, Yet B’s…”

Friday, October 7, 2022

Saga 098 ~Virgil’s Story, Yet B’s…~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I should have all the time in the world to read, learn, and cry.

Would Braxton’s story make me cry? To be honest, I don’t know, considering I haven’t looked at the two that I’ve written in how long? I’m trying to find the time. But don’t get your hopes up that this is the second time we’re talking today. Whatever do I want? Sophia, it could be to visit the doctor. Is the pain getting worse, Sophia? Do you remember when I told you or one of the others that I’ll choose physical anguish over a mind fuck? Pardon my language. If anything, if you are reading this, as Pearl Jam puts it, “I’m still alive.” But I wish I wasn’t. Will I be getting over this “feeling” anytime soon? My B III. NO, NEVER, AS IF. Virgil?

Loneliness? I can’t say I look at him the way I look at Triple B. Or Triple X, for that matter, Sophia. It’s been a long day? And without any fur baby to stop me. Hell! B III could see. Besides the loneliness, I’ve been talking a lot about Braxton’s lack of reincarnation… to be. Is that why Virgil has been in Braxton’s room all day. Well, except for a few bathroom breaks. What I wouldn’t give for V to be in one of many rooms making a mess, Sophia. What is he a Disney princess asking “When Will My Life Begin?” He barely makes a sound unless it’s hacking up a lung. And seeing as how I’m down here and he’s up there? Braxton?

Is he in Heaven, at the Rainbow Bridge, in a box? I’ve been saying it… the last couple of books have been people in boxes. This whole house is one giant coffin, I think, sometimes. And I’m trying not to make a sound. I’m going on how many times listening to the Succubus Lord series. No grunting over some girl. How many days has it been now since I failed this week? Friday, September 30, 2022. And no griping about work to Virgil. But I’m sure I’ll keep sharing fries if there is any money to spare. Ha-ha. I need a new book after The Cabin at the End of the World. Only I’ll end up texting about Virgil Vivi. What? Virgil’s Story, Yet B’s…

614 Days Without B III, Day 055 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Saga 091 ~Virgil’s Vigil, B Lonely~

Next to B III sitting at the foot of the bed, staring out the door on guard duty, I miss how he’d cuddle up next to me while I’m reading. Virgil tried that for a bit, but um, I’m toxic, and he’s in B III’s room by himself. “Virgil’s Vigil, B Lonely.”

Friday, September 30, 2022

Saga 091 ~Virgil’s Vigil, B Lonely~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can invest in security cameras. Well, more than now. With such “Paranoia, paranoia!”

And no, not about B’s ghost. So is that it then; I no longer feel that B III has been reincarnated? Um, the last few books have been more dead people than fur babies, Sophia. Only Virgil hasn’t been around to hear any of this. Nope, this morning Virgil’s alone. Yeah, I’ve only walked into Braxton’s old room to check Virgil’s birthdate. Sophia, for the record, it’s October 20, 2020. Braxton Barks was still living during this period. I haven’t been shopping around Amazon for Virgil Vivi’s birthday gifts either. The Adoption Kit that I got, I’ve buried in a notebook behind porno. Don’t ask. But I have searched online for what could be wrong with him and all his hacking. A toxic “best friend?”

I swear he and I need to go and see a doctor, but I’m not ready to read those damn bills. It could be worse. There’s a reason I haven’t been watching much YouTube or wrestling, either. Do I need to watch the world go to Hell or see how fake it is? Blasphemy. To be honest. And I’m not sure how much I can do with you or anybody these days. I would go see a doctor. But next week will be more fucked up than the last, so Time Travel. Lots of writing to do today if I don’t fall asleep again. Not that my dreams/nightmares are lonely. The last one I saw the cops bursting in (pick a crime) and woke up.

Of course, I don’t have the time… Ha-ha, to write it all down. And I’ve pretty much forgotten the dream I had about Virgil/Braxton about a week ago. There are the books in front of me. I’m trying to listen to Succubus Lord 19 whenever I “need to” monologue into the void. I’m still reading “The Cabin at the End of the World.” How’s it going to end? There’s been death Sophia. Which reminds me, haven’t I written out my eulogy someplace? Yeah, I’ve been in a mood for days. In case someone is keeping tabs, I’ll leave it there. Only like the song, “Oh God, I’m gonna die alone.” I said Virgil’s by himself. Trying to keep him alive. Sigh, Virgil’s Vigil, B Lonely

607 Days Without B III, Day 048 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Saga 084 ~See V, B Leaving~

Dreams are messages. What’s my latest dream/nightmare telling me? It didn’t even star my son but Virgil, but I had intense emotions as if it were B III. It’s been 600 days without him. He’s saying that’s enough. Heart hardening, etc. See V, B Leaving

Friday, September 23, 2022

Saga 084 ~See V, B Leaving~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. So, I wonder, are there any machines that control dreaming? Dreams were pretty “intense” last night.

Shouldn’t I call them nightmares, then? Hell! Even dreams, I would say, are “good….” I always say everything I want is impossible, illegal, or insane. Add inane or inconsequential to the mix. I make everything about me, don’t I, ha. The eye in Will (sigh). But my dream was about Braxton. Only it starred Virgil. I haven’t distinguished the two. I should be reading more books on reincarnation and the like. Yet, I’ve been all in on “The Dog Under The Bed” series. Don’t I sound like a little boy? A fucking idiot! Uh, language. It’s not like I can cuss out my “father,” though. Humiliations Galore, where I lay my head, Sophia. And let’s not forget the Day Job and another manager. So dreaming…

I was right where I am now, in bed. The first thing that should have made me take notice of the dream was that Virgil was running down the stairs. He was in a rush to go out like Braxton once was. So why visit me in dreams? Again I never saw Braxton, only Virgil. Opening the door, Virgil rushed out and down the patio steps into the backyard. But then he was sniffing around like he was trying to find a way out. First, V jumped high and escaped. It was as if he was flying. Then the fence fell, and he got out again. A third time he slipped under the fence like he was a bit of slime or mold. Okay, no porn, please, fuck. My mind…

Each time I was able to capture him and bring him back. I don’t know how but I did it. After a while of this happening, there was commentary from a DJ, more like a podcast. You know I can’t stand podcasts… I think. Then there were these black kids watching. One goes, “I don’t like him,” about me, it was a little braided girl. Then I woke up. Before I started looking for that movie “Knock at the Cabin.” It’s the book “The Cabin at the End of the World.” Oh yeah, can’t forget the “Mold” porn. I’ve wanted to buy bricks and cinderblocks for the backyard. Making the house a prison? That’s how this existence feels. My personal Hell. See V, B Leaving

600 Days Without B III, Day 041 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Chronicle 193 ~Pain Makes Heroes And Villains~

I always saw myself as the villain. I’m no Trumptard, but I like power. That means I’m no democrat. Um, I don’t want to do politics. But I find it hard to do any morning without my son. My hero. Playing the villain for Pain Makes Heroes And Villains.

Monday, January 10, 2022

Chronicle 193 ~Pain Makes Heroes And Villains~

Two-Hundred and Twenty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, but does that make me a hero or a villain. I know that making money hurts. Kills!

I could talk about my body wasting away, but of course, you know what I want to talk about. Braxton is dead. I wouldn’t know at the time “2021” Gospel 193 List It Up, Will. Madam, I was much too busy playing the hero. Like a fucking rich man with $600 in my pocket, and I spent $100 on B. As a poor man, I was still working to provide for us both. Every day I face the evils of this world because I AM a father. Present tense always. That’s what Jack and Kate say in their book Letters From Rainbow Bridge. Past tense? That’s dismissing Braxton from my life, and I need him now more than ever. Kept my lamp on last night.

That doesn’t make me sound like much of a villain, now does it. I don’t even know what woke me up, but I couldn’t get back to sleep for a bit. Where is my hero? Watching over me as always, but still, I needed the light. All I recall is the pain. Nightmares have pain? I’ll always think of how B III would get a blanket when I was ill. A cape and hoody, ha. If I would make all the world my bed, then he would stay here so I could keep him safe. The way he’d smile when I would pet him or rub his tummy. B III, look, the day is saved. The pain Madam, the greatest hurt comes from being alone.

No, that’s a lie. In one of the arguments, I have with myself… I need to stop talking to myself. That makes me sound crazy. At least when Braxton… again, I’m trying. Braxton is here but talking to myself seems to be a form of Acceptance. 344 days, I’ll never. Anyway, my “father” taught me that this is the most villainous act that can ever be done. The Destruction of a Soul. Yes, I’m a killer. All these books on Euthanasia sound like Greek to me. The good death. Taking someone’s body is horrible, their life even more so. But the concept of taking away someone’s will? My “father’s” a villain. My son’s a hero. But both brought pain. Me? Pain Makes Heroes And Villains

“Last night reading over the Dæmon’s vet care. I felt like such a horrible parent.”

“Now it’s “A Different Alchemy” Jeffery and his son Galen. One more thing to show your dad like failures, yep.”
193 List It Up, Will

344 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Animal Crossing Nope, Just Braxton

A dream. a little sex, violence, and not dabbling either. I miss my dog, my friend, my son. It was a crime what happened to him. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” “Animal Crossing Nope, Just Braxton”

Animal Crossing Nope, Just Braxton

“She’s the girl that guys marry, and I’m the girl that guys fuck!” Kill Theory

What a weird way to start off a dream about my dog, right? He didn’t appear until the last half, if I’m being honest. It took me forever to figure out what this quote had to do about anything other than the movie “Kill Theory.” If you want me to remember anything, it usually has to involve sex or violence. My son Braxton broke the mold with that. Then again, he had a thing for my second best friend’s breasts, and I will never forget that I killed him. Call it being put to sleep, Euthanasia; whatever I ended him.

Most nights, I don’t dream at all, I don’t remember, or they aren’t worth telling ever. I can say to you within The Five Stages of Grief, I live in DENIAL. As always, I fill his water bowl, call out to him for his medication, eat when we both usually would together. On Day Seventy-Two, I moved into ANGER because of the fucking Assistant Manager. I’ve been revved up ever since, and my Day Job has become a battlefield. Before work, I would have said that on Day Eighty-Six, I have moved into BARGAINING. Too many STUPID people are breeding.

So that leads me back to this quote from my dream, and as I said, it’s from the movie Kill Theory, so a short plot:

A man kills his best friends to save his own life. To prove that anyone in the same circumstances (somewhat). That you will kill to save yourself, he picks a group of college kids. They have until Six AM to kill each other. The sole survivor goes free, but he will kill them all if more than one remains alive.

If you’ve been keeping up, I will die for Braxton. Tell me to give my life to save him, and I would do so without question. He deserves to live. We were together for fifteen years, one month shy of sixteen. He was my longest relationship, me and my son, and I mean a life I was responsible for. But I chose everything over him. That’s what killed him. The week before he died, it was my Day Job which explains so much Anger. Also, I hate three people there but the dream. I kept hearing the girl Ryanne Duzich “Amber” say this. SPOILER ALERT she does survive. Her friends died, her love, her enemies…

Ryanne Duzich “Amber”

So next thing I know, I’m in a car alone with her. At least, I think it was her because what I noticed was the moon outside as she drove. It was a pale pink moon that slowly became blood-red, and so was my dread. Ever since Braxton died, I have found that not much scares me anymore. I have a moment of panic every now and again, but like with every pain, I only say, “I killed Braxton.” I deserve whatever I get. Let the cops come, let me catch COVID, or crack some skulls. I can take it.

Anyway, before I freak out, the moon turns into C-3PO’s golden head. And then it’s my Braxton’s face, and of course, I calm down. I watch the moon as Amber drives on, and it doesn’t matter where. It’s the journey, and with Braxton up above me, everything is okay. Soon the sky begins turning blue, signaling a new day. Amber and I are now in this wooded area with rocks and little mini waterfalls. The trees surround the clearing, but then I see a big building to the side. I then discover it’s a replica of Braxton’s resting place. It’s a bit dingy and worn, but his name is right on the top of it.

I’m dressed in a blue robe like something out of The Purge series. Or I’ve been reading too much Succubus Lord (The Cult of Ralston), yeah. Amber is beckoning me closer, but I snatch away from her. She starts saying, “get in the box, get in, join him!” she cries. Now I’m scared, and I refuse. Then she starts saying “Look at me” and starts untying her top. While her voice, I think, reminds me of “Secret Girlfriend,” You Get an Aquarium Girl (Veronica Taylor). Still, I’m terrified, and I begin to back away as she starts to step forward.

Veronica Taylor

Before I can get away, out steps Jessica Garza “Penelope” from The Purge series. “Look at my lambs,” she asks, and then there are these three people in animal masks or maybe the animals themselves. All I remember is a black wolf waiting. So either I enter the building, or I face the animal beings. I start running, but then I’m so tired, and I want to give up, give in. Hell, get off with the two/three beautiful women, but the animals catch me then…

I didn’t wake up screaming, and I’m not sure what the animals even did to me. The wolf was charging, and my ankles were tied in dark blue cloth. Okay, so the four major components of the dream. There’s “Kill Theory,” the moon, the building, and the animals in all:

Kill Theory: The movie’s both betrayal and sacrifice. The killer got away with it, and Amber lived. She had been betrayed by everyone. She ended the film holding the man she loved who had been killed by his girlfriend. The killer said Amber would become like him, but she said she would never. I’m the same way. I’m surrounded by pretenders and people I hate. The one I loved the most died. And I’m half crazy. I live in lust, not love, not feeling anything.

The Moon: I don’t understand what the pink was about other than I love turning to hate. Or something to do with sex. I’ve been staying up working on an erotic novel and didn’t read about a pink moon until later today. C-3PO makes me think of when he wanted to donate parts to R2-D2 after destroying the Death Star. Braxton, of course, watching over me from the sky. I still say goodnight to him before falling asleep. He is my light in the darkness.

The Building: With today being the exception, I would usually be in bed lying in the dark. I told my second best friend I exist in the darkness because everything else makes me upset. In the dark, there is nothing, and suppose I wish I was dead. Only in the dream I fought going into the box. I wanted to stay out in nature. Another friend has been angling for me to try Bushcraft with her. Survivalist training and, like always, JSS Just Survive Somehow.

The Animals: I swear they looked like people at first. And the fact that a former sacrifice in Penelope presented them… Why can I only remember the wolf, though, and a lamb, hmm? But they were all chasing me, further evidence of my betrayal and guilt. I have looked at other dogs lately, and both my friends want farm animals. Did the animals want to eat me, or was I lying on some otherwise peaceful ground? Only I was tied up tight by a cloth-like the one in Braxton’s remains.

Still Salty About B III “A Dream”

Talk about pouring salt on a wound. And as the song goes, “These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real.” To be honest, I’ll take a dream about Braxton than being trapped in boxes at the Day Job. Still Salty About B III “A Dream.”

I’m reminded of the night my Olds cut me off. Most of the police were gone. Thank you ever so much, National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. For once again, proving no one gives a shit if I live or die. Only, that was so many years ago, and my dream brought that back some. Except in my dream, it was daylight. I had my current car, which is far from a Mercedes. I wasn’t at my former “home.” I was sitting in the parking lot of PetSmart, where there’s a Banfield Pet Hospital. Braxton died there.

I’m not blaming them or anything. This is my fault but anyway, so my dream…

I’m sitting in the car, but I’m not alone. B III is riding shotgun, and he’s not sick. He’s happy and giddy, but he wants outside. He smiles, and I pat his head. Usually, he’s frightened of car rides, and of course, he’s still standing, but there’s no fear in him, only an eagerness. My “Dear Future Wife” is sitting in the backseat. At this point, I’ve narrowed it down to three girls. Her face is that of Anna Vlasova, “Alissa” MarvelCharm. Her body is more Alycia Debnam-Carey, yep. Then we get breasts, and there are two words Sabrina Nichole. Then there was my “father” sitting beside her. How does one tell a nightmare from a dream? He was a big red flag, not literally. With him being there, I should have gone ahead and woke up, but I didn’t.

The vision played on until my alarm woke me up, and I didn’t scream or even grumble. It didn’t slip away these images. Like my memory of being cut off, it only sat there waiting, which brings me here today. Fifty-Eight days since Braxton’s passing, and I know, I do. I should get on with the dream. I should get past this feeling… As the song goes, “Let It Go.” Only there were no Disney characters to be had. I’ve been through Legion to John Wick, but only one film truly stands, and it’s this.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002). In my dream, I was Edmond Dantes, but I was still me, hoody and all. My wife again was the three girls I described. My father in this, what I remember is black. He could be a zombie for all I care but was he the villain or all.

The door on the passenger side opens. Braxton never goes out that way as he crawled over my lap in real life. He’s tugging on his leash, eager to get to the store. More importantly, to get to the hospital in back. It was rare for us to simply walk the store as he usually has an appointment at the groomers or the vet. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind where he wanted to go. I’ve laughed a lot, telling him, “are you going to walk in like a man?” In the dream, I got scared holding his leash.

Braxton pulled and tugged. Whether he wanted me to follow or let go, I wasn’t sure at the moment. I held on tighter as Braxton barked towards PetSmart as if he were asking for help. It was the complete opposite, the day he passed away. Hell, I carried Braxton there. Wifey said something like I needed to let him go, and I shouted at her, “He’s all I have!” My Braxton was, no, is my world, and no matter what she said or did, I couldn’t give up. As I said, she was a combination of three of the most beautiful women, but B III. Wifey opens the door and begins pulling out piles of money from the trunk. There are clothes and gold, diamonds. My eyes were fixed on Braxton, but I knew all the stuff was back there being taken from me, and it didn’t matter. Braxton’s struggling

My “father” says the same thing, to let Braxton go, and I scream at him, “Don’t rob me of my hate; it’s all I have!” Now, wait a minute, I thought that was B III? At this point, I could no longer see him beyond the car door. I felt him continue to try and drag me, but I wanted him back in the car. We would be safe together. My “father” left the car, and like my wife, he began pulling things out. Only in his arms were guns and knives. I thought of my mother taking my first pocket knife. It was a Spiderman back when he was with Venom. It was black and white with the Spiderman emblem. The blade was black with white webbing. It was my favorite, but it’s gone.

So there’s my wife grabbing green and my father taking guns. A wicked world, cruel…

Before Braxton, Wifey, and my “father” left, I heard the three of them like one voice. “Let It Go,” but did I let go, or was there nothing left of me. I won’t give up ever. B gave me one of those looks when he’s like, “Really, Dad, Seriously, Daddy.”

All three doors slammed together, and I was left alone in the car. All that remained was Braxton’s black leash and hippy collar. With the blue towel, I had placed beneath him. The day this really happened, I burst into tears and couldn’t go home. I went to Walmart of all places and picked out a black digital frame. I also picked up BBQ because my mom called, saying I had to eat. You don’t want to know what I wanted to do, but I didn’t because Braxton was watching. There had been a storm minutes before but now sunlight.

In the dream, though, I continued to sit there. It was like the movie 1408, but it was only my car instead of a hotel room. John Cusack, aka Mike Enslin, had to listen to “We’ve Only Just Begun” as the room tortured him. As I sat in my car, it began to fill up with salt. I wasn’t afraid. As a matter of fact, I wanted to dive in, no question. The car was becoming an hourglass. Yes, I know those have sand, but Braxton never went to a beach. I wasn’t cold, and I don’t do drugs. Well, I never did cocaine anyway. As I was buried alive…

The Devil by PJ Harvey
Everyone Says Hi (Defiance Version) by Young Beautiful in a Hurry feat Fyfe Monroe
He’s My Son by Mark Schultz

I listened, and not once did I want to escape; I only sat there waiting for the inevitable. The nightmare didn’t end. I saw flashes. Pornos I have, an air pistol with its orange tip, other real weapons, cash. In all of that, though, I never saw Braxton again, only his collar and the endless white. I don’t know if I lived or died, but the alarm went off, and that was that. It’s been a typical day so far. I can’t say “Another Day” anymore. I did clean out Braxton’s old dog dish. It’s been about two months, and something furry was growing. I wanted to keep the can of special food, another mess.

What does it all mean? I’ll break down four elements of the dream; Three, Wifey, Father, and all the Salt.

The Number Three: His name is Braxton Barks Bradford. There were three people in the car or three lives other than my own. Braxton started getting sick on Wednesday, which is actually the fourth day of the week. However, he died on a Sunday, meaning the next Wednesday would be the third day of his death. With my “OCD,” I test things by three’s. I have three women in my life, my mom, Indiana Gone, and M Anime. It’s like that book “The Five,” the main character, “Rainey Summer Day.”

Wifey: Speaking of Rainey Summer Day and how, when Braxton died, there was a storm, and then the sun was out. I suppose she represented love and lust. I haven’t been open to anything since losing Braxton. I’m a man, I have desires, I’m horny, but there is no will both figuratively and literally. Everything I do in life is about sex, and at the same time, I want love. I want a family. Only no one understands the love I have for my son, and losing him, costs everything.

Father: He, of course, represents my hate. If it’s not sex, then let it be violence. Since Braxton’s been gone, I’ve been in a rage, but I’m always fighting it. Anger is the second stage of grief which is another step towards Acceptance. I refuse to accept that. My son is dead, and yet I can’t stop. His water bowl is filled every day. Losing all of my weapons, the ability to wage war. On the one hand, it helps maintain my Denial, but if I can’t love or hate?

Salt: Braxton is my balance, my constant, my peace. It’s why he sat at my right hand. Why did B want me to let him go? The day he left, all he wanted was to go home, but I chose this path. Salty tears, hmm? Everyone Says Hi goes, “said you sailed a big ship, said you sailed away,” ocean? It could mean diet, which has been lacking. It could have something to do with sex since I won’t allow any pleasure. Or looking back, becoming a pillar of salt.

A dream, a nightmare, nothing at all, I don’t know. Only that’s how I feel. Salt preserves. My nothingness preserved.

Lesson 178 ~Shook Me All Night~

All I want for Christmas all I need is the money to pay for it, boys dream of toys and men dream of, well; I think Santa is a good man, and if I could do all that he can for the world, for the family I hope to have one day? “Shook Me All Night.”

Tuesday, December 26, 2017

Lesson 178 ~Shook Me All Night~

Dear Future Wife,
No Fear, you know I’m usually all in my head about something and now that I have you why do I need to dream but as the song goes “Some Nights.” You’re more than enough to keep me up, to hold me down, whatever could make me want to leave your side?

This time of year, we have little faces waiting for Santa coming to visit, and I will never let them down, not even the dog that is looking for everybody to share with him. There is the woman I love more than life, and I won’t leave it to just Christmas, Valentine’s, or your birthday if I’m not showing you every day how long will I love you then I’m not doing my job. Maybe that’s what shook me last night after all the gifts were open, the kids drifting off with smiles, my four-legged friend stuffed and you my happy wife, I want more than one perfect day for all of us but how?

Keep doing what I’m doing, that’s a lot for a man like Santa, and he only needs to do it one day out of the year, and maybe that’s what scares me, the other 364 days out of the year my love. Last night I thought about how quickly we could come to Santa not having a roof to stand on, the one that I want to keep over our heads. I tell you this, hold each other, dance to “All You Need Is Love” but I can’t shake this feeling, but we’re in this together. By what right would I ever have to doubt you, this, or us, If I didn’t believe; you make me feel like a kid on Christmas every single morning.

They call it a man’s world though, and you know that I’m not like most, I’m luckier, more in love, I’m yours, and I suppose that what the rest of the world thinks doesn’t matter. So we pretend but not with us, no never with us, and that’s why I woke up so early, no more sugar plums for me, yet what would I call you, beautiful, “good girl,” mine?

A reason to come back to bed, a reason I won’t have another nightmare because you shook me all night?

I Will Have No Fear

Dreaming Awake

I usually don’t have nightmares when I’m sleeping but since I have been working it seems the days and the nights are beginning to blur and being awake is a nightmare. Dreaming Awake… I think I rather not dream at all anymore and yet I continue

Dreaming awake, sweet dreams really…
Can you hear, oh the time
It’s just like kneeling
How God denies
The very existence of my life
Doesn’t he make mistakes?
I know your lie
Dreaming awake

All that I’ve been feeling
You’re just as blind
Watching is like killing
Behind those closed blinds
Think you’re so divine
Like him a fake
As I try to drive
Dreaming awake

Screaming yet somehow I’m dealing
But me you’ll never find
Closed doors and jeering
Yeah I want to hide
Or just to cry
Everything I have take
Let me sign
Dreaming awake

Yet I fight
Won’t begin to pray
Just let me die
Dreaming Awake

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.