Tag: Pain

Gospel 299 ~Every Drop Of Blood Cost~

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One can’t only care about the green. I hate someone, not because they’re any color but because they’re a terrible person. I’ve noticed my clothing is more colorful, missing beige and tan dog hair. Just me living my life. Every Drop Of Blood Cost

Monday, April 26, 2021

Gospel 299 ~Every Drop Of Blood Cost~

Hundred And Eighty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but the cost of blood does fluctuate. The fact remains it cost.

Why don’t I go all Bubba with it (ahem) “(blood) is the fruit of the (body).” Yeah, that might not make much sense. Little does going on what, eighty-five days without B III. Something else to be angry about. As always, it’s never at my son but myself and ASM. My how my blood has boiled, frozen, and continues to spill across the pages. Speaking of “Every day, every day, every day I write the book,” should we be chatting today? I continue to time travel as it’s Thursday, April 22, 2021. I’m not a prophet Madam Justice.
Now I’m not a historian either, but the thing is, neither future nor past look favorably on me. Tell me which cost more, Madam Justice, looking to my future or the past.

All I know is my hands are stained with blood that I cannot wipe away. Fifteen years and a month shy of sixteen. I wake up seeing red, and while the tears help, where are they now? Yes, I cried for Braxton today but still, when I get out of this bed… fuck such a feeling. As Drake put it, “They tryna take the wave from a nigga. Fuckin’ with the kid and pray for your nigga.” I can only speak for me, Madam Justice but from my tears to Braxton’s water bowl to the sweat and toil of the Day Job. Water… people demand such suffering; it’s human nature. Strange… not really that people want blood, aren’t I a person wishing to be judged for killing my B III.

I went from Paint It Black to Seeing Red. It’s one of the reasons I simply laid in the darkness after the Day Job. In the dark, I can imagine that Braxton is still here. His heart is still beating, the blood we have shed together because “we got enemies.” Braxton’s love. Madam Justice, I must never forget that. If he has gone to the Rainbow Bridge, the first color is red. What’s next, my “Orange Crush,” “Big Yellow Taxi,” “It’s Not Easy Being Green,” “Blue” (Angie Hart), “Mood Indigo,” “Violet” (Seal.) Took time to find those. Can you see why people choose red, blood, and dust? All I want is to find more of B’s hair than hating another black man. In some way, to see the Rainbow Connection.

Every Drop Of Blood Cost

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 297 ~B Free Of Knowing~

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I wouldn’t give up knowing what it’s like to be a Daddy, with respect to those with two-legged children. I know who my enemies are… I can’t be in the dark about that. I know tons, but thinking hurts. Why did zombies eat brains? B Free Of Knowing

Saturday, April 24, 2021

Gospel 297 ~B Free Of Knowing~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Did I just win the lottery? I’d take them on discovering a way to reconstitute “pets.”

The word applies here, but I still hate saying it. Braxton was/is my son, my best friend, my brother, hell everything. Currently, as I’m speaking to you, Lady Lu, it’s Tuesday, April 20, 2021. Yes, I know, time-travel has its way of making it look like I don’t give Two Fux. Lady Lu, I’ll give you a quick recap, AHEM…

Fear The Walking Dead and Monday was exhausting. I did get two “valuable” hours. I didn’t get into it with the ASM. “L-I-V-I-N.” Now a truck unload is coming up this week that is still going on. My peace was shattered on day 73 of Braxton’s passing. I officially moved from Denial to Anger in “The Five Stages of Grief.” I only want to feel dead once again. Mad World

Monday helped. But if I could do day 74 over again? THEY say that you should never let anyone hold sway over your emotions as they hold power over you. Tell that to my bawled fist and a heart, broken out of love but good enough for hatred. BLM indeed. Braxton helped me survive the first year of the pandemic and without him from now on? Did you catch the news today or really any day? Again nothing would make me “happier, no “gladder” than to return to my cocoon, my crypt. A convincing denial I held to so long. At this rate, though I could be fired? Should I be thanking the ASM, or can I find my routine again? Minus the “Another Day.”

Is that what I want, to be a zombie? To choose hate because some asshole pushed me there, to stay in Denial always and forever? Right now, Braxton’s water bowl is full. I’m resting in bed. Feels better than sitting on the couch, heart pounding out of my chest, Anger. Lady Luna, you want me to talk about the future, and it ain’t looking too bright indeed. I worried about B III, I continue to do so. With a storm, I grab his “remains” and keep him close. Am I still at the Day Job, or did the meathead ASM decide to destroy what’s left? Should I do what all my motivations use to say and believe better? The best died. B Free of Knowing.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 294 ~B Guile The Neighbors~

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If B were alive, he’d be P.O.’ed at me. Either because we’d because he can’t do his job of yard defense. Who knows what bugs are out there? It’s also a bit like the fridge; his old food was growing stuff. “B Guile The Neighbors,” looking at the yard?

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Gospel 294 ~B Guile The Neighbors~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can buy some arcade machines. Not that I was good at Street Fighter…

I hope my neighbors don’t think I’m just lazy. Hell, most of them don’t know that Braxton has passed. To be honest, this is Camp NaNoWriMo season, so um, the house’s a mess, and the yard’s grown wild. I want to say I’ve made it through NaNoWriMo again, hmm. Then what? I publish a book, make my million and move away someday. One more reason B is still in the box and not dust in the wind of the first yard that was all his to defend. I do imagine if he went to Heaven, he’s annoying God; Hell, he’s finally found a doggy playmate. Should I be ashamed for saying that? My shame was in killing him, so fuck my neighbors’ opinions Inspector Echo.

Pardon my French, but Braxton would be pissed with me, and that’s what matters. Is this really going to be about me not cutting the grass this week? Letting my son’s territory be overrun by, well, I don’t know anymore.

Yes, Braxton, my brave, handsome boy, with a big mouth. One day I’ll tell the story of when we first arrived. For now, there are only these facts. I cleaned the house for pretty girls, and I cut the grass for B. He’s one for security, and he never let his size or cuteness stop his bark. To the south is the front door, my job because B um… like father like son and in his defense the girl was hot. Our northern border was all his. He was Ghost, and I was Jon Snow and how we hated yep, Winter Is Coming, Or Spring now, so my problems of late. I feel more like Grey Worm. If you’ve been keeping up with “Dear Future Wife,” I am losing my Missandei too. You want a horrifying confession. Tell me I would have to lose my “man parts,” and I could have B alive and well… I wouldn’t even think twice.

You see how my mind works from Street Fighter’s Guile to Game of Thrones. As always, the background noise is what’s keeping me going without the pitter-patter of tiny paws. Because for now, I’m not going outside. Braxton would bark at them, but the grass… Can’t B Guile The Neighbors.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 292 ~Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask~

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My heart remains broken… yep, better start with my head next. I swore when I started this nine days ago, I was actually less crazy. Now whatever peace I had in my insanity has been destroyed by rage. “Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask…” what about helmets

Monday, April 19, 2021

Gospel 292 ~Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask~

Hundred And Eighty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But where is my kingdom, my honor, most notably, where’s my prince?

In Shakespeare’s “Richard III,” a man offers a kingdom for a horse. I can’t bear to think; I need to see a man about a dog. Yes, Madam Justice, today is going to be one of those where all I say, you’ve heard before. I’ll begin with, (ahem) all I have I’d give for Braxton. How about this oldie but goodie… A Man Provides. Saying I’ll give it all up is again an unwelcome sign of Bargaining. There is also the fact that if you have nothing, why in the Hell would you have a family? Maybe B has gone to prepare a place for me with my lazy ass. I am Odysseus trying to find his way home or seeing others steal my world.

No, because Braxton was, still is my world, and again I put his loss on no one but myself. For me to speak of honor when one of the Princes of the Universe lies before me slain by my own hand. Well, on the nightstand, because of euthanasia… overly dramatic. With all my time travel (Nine Days), Madam J, can’t we get to the portion of the program where I rule. A woman, a queen to sit beside me, children, and the wealth to do as a man, a king does. Not without B III, he was a warrior, a wonder of love, a lone wanderer. How many pop culture references was that? Um, there’s Queen, Highlander, Fallout 4, I tell you, the background noise.

Because heavy the head that wears the crown or so they say, and I could give three reasons for my own. The fact that I have never ever taken responsibility. And so with B III’s passing, I crumble. The second is that I have built myself up so much. Last, that B bore so much. So becoming a monk seemed easier. How dare I, but come and take a Walk With Me. Didn’t I confess at some point last week that I haven’t had any women in the house? Well, besides Indiana Gone and Okay the Maid. I wasn’t “producing” a family. I didn’t do “stuff and thangs” with B around. Now he can always see me. Give me my mask any day, I say. Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 290 ~Orange You Glad Braxton~

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Day 76, it’s been hot, not that I’ve been outside, you know, mowing the lawn or taking a walk like B III and I would do. It’s been hot tears, rage, both from work. I have a new villain for my story. I’m trying to find peace. “Orange You Glad Braxton”

Saturday, April 17, 2021

Gospel 290 ~Orange You Glad Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I better be, as the school bully will be taking my lunch money. Fucking ASM.

Pardon my language My Lady but as the song goes, “Work sucks, I know.” Why we’re talking music? How about this one? “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus. But he talks like a gentleman.” He’s more like John Seed from Far Cry 5, and I’ll die before saying YES. Without fail, I will always take responsibility for Braxton’s death; that is my failure and disgrace. But it is men like at the Day Job that brought about my rage at people and apathy towards B III. It is people like that asshole that make me believe in “Karens.” Dammit, I chose to fall upon my knees for the Day job only to stay there trying to save my son. Have I become a Nihilist?

Eric Thomas said something to the tune of; before you blow up, life will strip you to the core. I lost Braxton, and as I said, I will not kowtow to the new assistant manager, so there goes my job. Now that would leave me with nothing, and am I afraid? Losing B stole fear? I’m sitting there crying over my boy in the office. My hot tears were coursing down my face, while at the same time my blood is burning, call it fire, poison, Hell. I wish I could leave shame out of the mix, but again B has that beat. My walk of shame after his passing. Standing at the car, I was Winston Smith “1984” the moment they killed him there.

You know how THEY say God is spelled backward. I believe in B; I mean, look at it as so. I talk to him, but no one else can see. I call upon him for strength. I believe he took the fall for my sins; I am his prophet. His name is upon my heart and flesh or sometime soon. Like I was telling Indiana Gone, I want to get a tattoo of Braxton’s face underneath my forearm. Starting at the top of his head will be his nickname there.

B III
To the left: JSS (Just Survive Somehow)
To the right: EHC (Elite Hunting Club)
At the bottom: Braxton and the date he left

Below all of that will be Captain America’s shield. I think of the song Left Hand Free from Captain America: Civil War. The shield was a purpose, responsibility, duty, honor, a burden but a privilege, a love. Captain America gave it back, and still, he tried to do what’s true. I could go on, but we will be here all day, sigh. Yeah, right, I can do this all day but then again and not to make “light” of this, but I think of that monk who burned himself alive. Let’s stick with fiction in that of Saint Hakushin from Inuyasha, who became a Living Buddha. Miroku also had his “weapon,” the “Wind Tunnel,” in his right hand but held by his left. I haven’t touched my “weapon” or any of them, except my knife in weeks. Why all this holy man talk? It’s the only way I may ever see Braxton ever again. Heaven…

It beats talking about why I want the EHC lettering and Braxton’s face. In the Hostel movie franchise, they use the Bloodhound to represent their members… killers. But I want B III’s face. Let my flesh burn so I may never forget my crime or the warmth and love of Braxton. Orange You Glad Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 287 ~B The Clock Challenge~

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Geez, what time is it? Let me rub the sleep from my eyes, or pollen, fur, doesn’t matter. I’ll never see my boy in this life again. I should probably stop crying with all these traditional books lying around but so little time. B The Clock Challenge.

Gospel 287 ~B The Clock Challenge~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and it wouldn’t matter if I had a Rolex or Omega watch. Telling time is hard.

Would you think I would be embarrassed by that? I the time-traveler; I mean, I can do it, but just like driving a stickshift, an automatic and a digital watch is easier. If anything, I could always use a few more hands. Mine are still stained with fur and blood… figuratively. People are sick of me talking about my kid, well, those who know. I’m speaking to you on April 8. Who am I to say what Indian Gone or M Anime thinks by now. My time is split between B, the Day Job, trying to stay awake, and as Taylor Swift sings, Blank Space. Who am I kidding? Braxton is always there. You would think I’d be earlier for the Day Job but B?

There is so much left to do for him, Inspector Echo, and how did I spend my morning. As I said, everything is about him, so I wrote him another letter. How about that tattoo I want of him? There’s a video I wanted to make of him (saddest thing ever). A lone high priest. The Church of Braxton? No, I’m as selfish as I ever was, still seeking my punishment. The ending punctuation in this chapter of my life, or a pot of gold. Why I’m learning about NFT’s? Not really, please, only killing more time, but something did catch my ears about them. For one moment, I wasn’t listening for Braxton. I continue to live by the alarms I set on my phone.

Anyway, Trevor Noah talked about ownership of originals, classics, whatever. That I don’t have B III in my lap, I’ve gotten into physical books even more so. An author I am reading turned me onto them. He talked about another author and these books he did before he passed that got him into a lot of trouble. I’ve read things from writers currently incarnated but these works… Well, one of them is 50 years old, is that old? The books go for hundreds, so yeah, between Braxton and body art, and bunches of artists, give me more books. What do I have to lose? I lost my god, I’m in Hell, and what time is it again to live without Braxton? B The Clock Challenge

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 285 ~I Won’t Be Anyone’s Bargain~

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I never told B III about Heaven, The Rainbow Bridge, Paradise, at least not until the very end because I always thought I would be better. I’d give him a bigger yard, a mom, siblings to pet him, but who am I? I Won’t Be Anyone’s Bargain, anymore

Monday, April 12, 2021

Gospel 285 ~I Won’t Be Anyone’s Bargain~

Hundred And Eighty-Third Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and pretty Hoity-Toity, to say the least. It helps Braxton’s not picky.

As it comes to what my grandma used to say about my pride, I go back and forth. As the song goes, “To hell with my pride,” or take a cue from Marsellus Wallace. “Fuck pride. Pride only hurts. It never helps.” Ok, so I want to live in another world, “Far Cry 5” hmm. This is going to sound very familiar. I keep thinking it was my wrath that killed Braxton. It was aimed at other people, never at him, and in so doing, I ignored him. Again I turn to my pride, or maybe it was his. I told Indiana Gone that he wanted better. Meat, not cheese. I started buying hot dogs, B III got classier food, his medications were a must.

The thing is, Madam Justice and I won’t stop saying it. My Son Deserved A Better Daddy. I let people diminish me, and in so doing, I diminished him, and my apathy for us both led to his death. My life is their fucking bargain and B’s love which is a gift I simply left. Here come pride again, that I was such a despicable human being that I alone killed him. I could play God or the Devil in his eyes. Because how does everyone else look at me. I’m so sick of being nothing, and then I look at the empty bed and full dishes. I have nothing. What I refuse is to have anyone look at Braxton as people look at me.

I have been looking too, ten weeks now at everything. Braxton’s more expensive food, but what if I had stuck to the cheap stuff? What if I bought that water filter for the fridge? 99% of doctors were excellent. What if I asked them to heal Braxton; paperwork’s still here. Yes, I know he’s dead, but they could have been running more tests. I could have been brushing his teeth, better grooming, buying him doggy steps. More walks in the sunshine, A Million Little Things before he made the Rainbow Connection. Last pop-culture reference, swear. I want to tell him, Madam Justice, that I am trying. I fail, but I won’t stop; 5000 words yesterday. If people, if God wants me, don’t look for bargains. I Won’t Be Anyone’s Bargain.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 283 ~What If Braxton Did~

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I swear I heard him in a rush down the stairs. Every time I get an email about a lost pet, I check it. Not helping but thinking I’ll see Braxton’s face. It’s been sixty-nine days, and I still hear him ask why instead of goodbye. “What If Braxton Did”

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Gospel 283 ~What If Braxton Did~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or so it feels that way. With quick deliveries, people know my name, but for Braxton.

What if Braxton did come running down the stairs again? It’s been about ten weeks to the day, sixty-nine to be exact. Cue the South Park “Nice,” which is how I felt with my recent book. Anyway, if Braxton did appear at “medicine time,” if this was always a nightmare? What if B III’s water dish was empty, or I found a mess in his spot at some point? I should start investing in ghost hunting guides. And you’re asking yourself what brought on my “1408” query? Yesterday, I was shaking the pill bottles as standard, calling B once again. What if Triple B was curled up in his bed, only waiting for me to ferry him off to mine? Now I sound like Charon.

If Braxton did tell me, it was okay to let him go? That’s never going to happen, Lady Lu, with my commitment to DENIAL. I said at one point that ANGER was overtaking me and, as far as BARGAINING, to lose myself. There are decent people, and who am I? If B III did tell me that I was forgiven for what happened to him. Well, I know I don’t want that. I still believe that the worst crime anyone can ever commit is taking another’s soul. I took Braxton’s life, not his will to live; I’m not my “father.” B fought for every second. If Triple B did tell me he was thankful for his life, he loved me, and goodbye instead of why?

When I do see Braxton again, at this rate, I’ll be in an insane asylum for sure. Here I am, and I can still feel him all around my feet. If I forget some nearly sixteen-year habit, I burst into tears. Every time I see a missing pet report, I have to check to see if it’s B, the Hell. When I do see B III again, maybe Cerberus is that lonely. As if Braxton went to Hell, but he would follow me as I would follow him. “We can be all poetic and just lose our minds together,” The Last of Us (Left Behind).

When I do see Triple B again, I want him to be proud of me somehow. What If Braxton Did.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

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On Easter Sunday, everyone was celebrating the resurrection with Jesus dying for all sins. I tell you that Braxton died for my sin and bringing him back day after day. Hell, like back then, religion is hard work. Ain’t This A B, and I deserve it

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I must be a Smooth Criminal as the song goes. No, I’m damn horrible.

Is that why I’m studying crime? Inspector Echo, I’m not like some girl “No Offense” exploring all the crime shows. Although I’m beginning to understand why they do. If the world is any indication, women watch things like; SVU as the paper; hell, my history. More like what women think of me. Anyway, as has become routine, anytime I get scared, I’m doing something wrong. I only remember one thing. Braxton is dead because… Yeah, I’m guilty. I killed my best friend; I’m always waiting on my judgment Inspector. The paperwork is still sitting on the coffee table and my nightstand. My Braxton is around my neck and with his other ashes. I keep talking about a tattoo with cremation ink but of what exactly?

This morning (Saturday, April 3), as always, “Time-Travel.” Okay, besides B III and his name and possibly his picture. I was thinking of getting an EHC “Elite Hunting Club” emblem, the Bloodhound. Or I’ll only stick with Braxton’s face, but I spoke to M Anime.
We talked about the Hostel series and the idea of killing somebody in the fictional world, of course. “Hostel” is pretty brutal by my standards but then again, The Purge or a Zombie Apocalypse? With what I did to B, though, how can I conceive taking any life at all? Marking myself like that might not help my case any; when it comes to the ladies. Not that I’m looking… I’m trying not to women or getting a new dog.

As Sade sings, “Is It A Crime.” I’ll love B III always and forever, but such a love can’t be matched. Oh, “This love is killing me,” Echo, and it’s what I deserve. I deny myself the world, and I don’t want it back. But I’m not taking care of myself either. Why should I? Inspector, I continue to seek justice. Take, for example, yesterday what I got from Amazon. I’ve read authors who’ve gone off to jail, but I can’t even show you this book. If I’m not reading, I should write, but I’m falling way behind with Camp this year, you know. Lots of lives were lost, including mine, because for fifteen years I chose love and without hate… Ain’t This A B?

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 278 ~Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off~

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Keep your pants on… well, I don’t want to go to work, but if I had my dream job, I wouldn’t need them. If anything, I want to go back to bed and cuddle with Braxton, but he’s gone. Writing can be done with or without so. Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off.

Monday, April 5, 2021

Gospel 278 ~Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off~

Hundred And Eighty-Second Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but this isn’t Futurama; Easter has passed, and can’t, but me love…

I swear, Madam Justice if I had the dollars, I would spend every day in bed. Of course, I do that already, and I’m broke. You know what I mean, I’m surviving but nowhere close to alive. I’d be lying if I said that I even want to without B. No, I’m not suicidal generally. If anything, I want more time. Anger and worry take a lot, and how about Depression. That sounds like a fucking excuse; pardon my language. B III spent so much time trying to fix me. If I had those last days back from the Day Job and writing, always writing. Funny that I haven’t given it up amongst the things I’m no longer doing. It’s the monk’s life for me.

Or maybe something more akin to Mahatma Gandhi… more on him later. Now didn’t I say money can’t buy me love? Some people might refute that by answering, have you ever paid the adoption price? I don’t know how much Braxton “cost.” A man provides. If I could provide, I would have found Braxton a mom. I think we’re going to need a bigger bed. If I fell asleep, B would have had someone to dole out the treats for him. I wanted him to meet his siblings in diapers sneaking him all he could eat, till he burst, ha. One big happy family, Braxton and I, survived the first plague year together. And again, my pockets were empty. It hasn’t stopped me, buying pants.

I would instead buy more books which means buying more studies on Mahatma Gandhi. Well, not mainly, but I did learn something about practicing “Brahmacharya.” Photography has been something that fascinated me and certain kinds of art. Most days, I pull up my sweat pants, and I don’t know; I did write five-thousand words yesterday. Braxton had faith that my writing would lead somewhere. That’s why he always allowed me to do it unopposed, even to the very end. I’ve worked at the Day Job for a decade, about, and my pockets have never been fat. Only now, my heart is empty, and if I could sell my soul, or vow chastity, at least asexuality… Am I Bargaining? No, I’ll stick with Denial. Empty still, Full Pockets, Pants Fall Off.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will