Tag: Son

Gospel 236 ~Zen Ends Butt Kicking Deserved~

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I don’t want peace, and the quiet is killing me. Let me have my exhaustion and with what my eyes have been doing lately, tuning out, tearing up, taking down every bit of pain as if it would stop my own. “Zen Ends Butt Kicking Deserved”

Monday, February 22, 2021

Gospel 236 ~Zen Ends Butt Kicking Deserved~

Hundred And Seventy-Six Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I’m still not angry about Braxton. Well, how do I know I started talking to you Friday. Say it with me, Madam Justice AHEM “Time-Travel.” What I know for sure is this? I’m not Zen. I don’t know what’s what anymore. I’m still reading anything and everything, well, after crying that Braxton isn’t curled up against me. It’s my fault. I’m the one to blame. Talk about a butt kicking deserved. I have those pamphlets on grief the vet gave me. To this day, I believe I’m in Denial, but Anger?

I don’t know how to describe it. Every morning when I wake up, the living routine. You know when I sleep, I’m gone though I’ve begun to dream again. Nothing about B III, only pain, and don’t tell me you can’t feel it in dreams. I’m usually shocked then, waterworks. Most of the time, I’m on autopilot. My mom asked me do I watch a lot of Dish; anything to break up the silence. Only what I mean is, it’s like that movie Warm Bodies, and I’m “R.” What do zombies do? Who was R before Julie and then without her? B’s not coming back. But what peace I knew…again routine, Denial. Braxton is only outside or under the bed. I joined a club about dogs, but I’m finding people much like myself. Madam J, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. So then I look for more pain and for what, my catharsis?

“It’s easier not to feel. Then I wouldn’t have to feel like this.” R – from the movie Warm Bodies

Disgusting, but how about wishing it was me? I’ll be damned if an animal is in pain. My Braxton suffered. People though… You know the song, “the dreams in which I’m dying…” My side was hurting; I thought I got bitten by something, wishing sicknesses. I’ve been eating more. Now I’ve starved myself for at least a week, but now food is the punishment. I said before I’ve been craving things like onion rings, chocolate, Burger King. Anything Braxton can’t have or that breaks my routine and increases my shame. Some time ago, I saw the police, and while they can pick anything at all… My killing Braxton. I’m Eddie Murphy in The Golden Child; I should be punished, purged, never purified. Hell’s not scary.

Living like this… peace, any thought of Zen’s the crime. Laugh, Smile, Funny Face, Braxton. Zen Ends Butt Kicking Deserved.

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 234 ~Don’t Drop Me Braxton~

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I keep on falling. I’m struggling to get out of bed—the tears from my eyes. Or when my phone chimes for my boy. For a split-second, my eyes fall to the floor, or my legs, to his bed. He wouldn’t let me down, right until the end. Don’t Drop Me Braxton

Saturday, February 20, 2021

Gospel 234 ~Don’t Drop Me Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and still, I would never possess the type of strength that Braxton has. Always and forever.

I was impressed, proud, nearly scared to death when he would walk to his water bowl those last days. If I were to ask God for anything… well, first, it was to save my son’s life. He could have, I could have, and would be more of a bastard if I didn’t let him go. Secondly, it was The Prayer from Quest For Camelot. All I wanted was for Braxton not to hurt anymore. As the song goes, “To a place where (he’ll) be safe.” And that is my failure. The Rainbow Bridge, Heaven, I like to think that the Pearly Gates needed a Cerberus. Only like I said yesterday that you can’t go asking for vets’ names that showed mercy. I can’t follow B.

I would go without question. Every time there is an ache or pain. When I start to get sick, the first thought that crosses my mind is GOOD. Let me go, let me die, and go be with him. My tethers to this life are so few, and even those ties that bind… strong enough; never like my Braxton. You know death doesn’t bother me, Lady Lu. No, I take that back. The prospect of my death doesn’t irk me. A lot of deaths don’t. I’ve been seeing plenty of it. Lately, people feeling this pain. If mine ended, it would only be because I stopped it, like I ended Braxton’s suffering. Stops me… promise I made to a friend.

I raised Braxton so high, and never once did I consider I’d be begging him to help me up. Twenty days and I still pick up his bed but usually kneel to smell it. His favorite game was once staring at the door, wondering should I go outside or inside. Now it’s up and down from pillows, pill bottles, and my pendant. I remember how he would freak out when I took his collar off; his nails caught the ring. Now when wearing the pendant, it’s like my collar. More like I’m telling myself to be better for him. For his whole last year, I told myself I would be a better father, friend, hell if only somewhat less forgetful.

In my arms, heart, mind, Please Don’t Drop Me Braxton

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 229 ~Beds Are Not Substitute Graves~

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Braxton would let me stay in bed, but he also knew how to get me out of it and then at the end… Hell, I would have joined him if I could’ve. Only for now, at least I’m up wanting to remember, to hold him, but Beds Are Not Substitute Graves.

Monday, February 15, 2021

Gospel 229 ~Beds Are Not Substitute Graves~

Hundred And Seventy-Five Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but does Braxton want to be with me forever? Always and forever in my heart, of course. Even now, a piece of him is around my neck. What about everything that is on my nightstand? I’m sure even today (Time-Travel, it’s still Saturday, his birthday). He wouldn’t want me to spend all day in bed mourning. No, that’s what we did on my Emergence Day. A bed has plenty of purposes, but it’s not as a grave. Being in a warm bed is pretty heavenly, which explains why I’m out of mine.

I’m also sure a bed isn’t made to be a shrine; again, we return to my nightstand. It’s been two weeks now or will be, and I keep Braxton’s last collar in his bed. His favorite plaything sits on his pillow in his room. Despite losing him, as I said on “that day,” they’re staying. Braxton’s bed is not exercise equipment, no matter how heavy it is to carry. With everything I have to heave at the Day Job, nothing compares. I keep thinking the whole world could tumble down, crushing me, only B III, bedding, daddy’s breaking heart. They’re not time machines either. As I told you before, I move my son’s bed to the right spot when I leave. Hell, just now, where do you think his pillow is with his toy? Right under the table as I talk to you. I’m still waiting for Braxton to go out, standing by the door.

That’s his territory, the backyard. Indiana Gone asked me where I would scatter his remains… I’ve only cried twice today, and it’s not yet 8:30 in the morning. Madam Justice, honestly, I only opened “the box” once. Inside’s a blue cloth, farther… didn’t wish any disturbance. Well, again, other than the pendant, I’m still wearing. Do I want to keep what’s left of my son sitting there dark? A bag of his hair, a clay paw print, even the certificate of his cremation? 5.5 x 8.5, how dreadful is that wanting to keep it representing Braxton. February 4, by the way, where was I when that was happening? In bed saying that it should have been me than him, honest. Today of all days, though, I’m out of bed, not living really. Existing, Remembering, and Thinking for now at least. Beds Are Not Substitute Graves

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 227 ~To Braxton’s Sweet Sixteen~

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Happy Birthday!!! Braxton Barks Bradford. I would do more for your birthday than I would my own and if I had only known… We’d share a steak on mine. I’ve been thinking about what we were going to do today? Some Dad, right? To Braxton’s Sweet Sixteen.

Saturday, February 13, 2021

Gospel 227 ~To Braxton’s Sweet Sixteen~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but can that bring Braxton back to me. Give me one more day, year; I’m greedy.

But never on my birthday and like Father like Son. Up until the end, he treated every day as a holiday. On his last day, I’m sure I’m a broken record. I remember when they first took him from me. “Daddy, can we go home?” In his eyes Dad and Son, our lives were together. Then came my second BFF. The only human Triple B could stand outside of my bloodline. I don’t recall how old he was, but she made him a cake. I believe this was when he discovered his favorite toy. Hell, the first time I saw Braxton defeated by MORE food. Well, it put me to shame. I’d get him a ton of fries, and we would chronicle another year together.

Speaking of shame, February 13. I’m sure there is a dispute to the actual day, according to my Olds. I’ve spent forever trying to forget my birthday. Would anyone bother remembering his ever? Braxton is the closest to love I’ll get, so yep, before Valentine’s Day. If I had my way, I mean, this is what I saw. Braxton, growing a little beard under his chin. His tiny tan hairs are starting to turn grey. I imagined Braxton sneaking back to me after lying with siblings. (Future human children)? He’d protect them and my missus. Not now, but years upon years later, I would hold him as I did. The kids would cry over him. MY wife would find me bawling alone at some point.

Now he would have been 16 today. As far as I’m concerned, he is until I stop, whatever it is I think I’m doing. Would I have taken another “Commemorative photograph…” and bought one large fry for him? I didn’t even buy him a Christmas present; we had the time. That’s all I have now, time. 16 years reduced to maybe 250 in pictures. My pendant has his name, telling me to be a better man. His pillow still under the table with his toy on top. Lady Luna, Braxton gave his all to me, so how best to honor the life he lived… I’ll have it, but love’s not a prize but a gift he gave me. Happy Birthday, Braxton. To Braxton’s Sweet Sixteen.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 222 ~Reasonable That Victoria Keeps Secrets~

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I don’t know what’s worst than saying Braxton’s gone, my son is dead. Everything that has been said and not, nothing will trump that. Yet in life, we keep some things to ourselves, right? “Reasonable That Victoria Keeps Secrets,” right

Monday, February 8, 2021

Gospel 222 ~Reasonable That Victoria Keeps Secrets~

Hundred And Seventy-Forth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I should have plenty of secrets. You know I do, but for the first time in forever, I don’t care. I’ve told you the worst thing I’ve ever done. Madam Justice, I’ll keep saying it. I killed my son, Braxton is dead because of me. For my failure at being his father, he paid with his life. I’m scared, of course. At the same time, I’ve got nothing left to lose. Why should I care about anything else? What makes me a man has nothing to do with, as the song goes, Underneath Your Clothes.

Take away a man’s son, you’ve truly given him nothing left to lose. – Zombieland

I also don’t have to sing “I Wish It Would Rain,” for I am not ashamed of crying. Hell, it might help to feel anger. It’s been one week; well, it’s Saturday now. Who am I to talk about the stages of grief? I haven’t cried like this since… I don’t know; I’m in Denial. It’s one of the reasons I won’t share this more publicly. I’m not my father. Didn’t I tell you before? I could still feel Braxton’s warmth, and he’s all like, “get a new dog.” He’s lost two, and I don’t recall batting an eye, but I didn’t say, “oh well.” Then his mother died um. Nothing ever hid his hatred towards me. I’ve heard the Christians talk about putting on the whole “Armor of God.” It would do nothing to shield me from my anxiety. Give me dog hair any day of the week. Still, I walked in with Braxton, and I walked out alone.

I bore my soul to the world, and what of Braxton’s? Haven’t I said I would have saved or sold mine to keep his? I haven’t cared about my body since. Only I keep dressing, going to the Day Job, I took a shower somehow. Um, does any of this have to do with the rule? Honestly, I haven’t looked; I mean, really seen a woman since the vets had mercy on Braxton. I still have Twitter, of course, and artistic endeavors. To be honest, I haven’t been checking the bank except to shop online for food. How will I ever go into Walmart Sunday? Women hide things, and I’m a man hell with nothing more. Fatherhood, heart, balls, Braxton

No one knows what it’s like… ha, plenty know. But, Reasonable That Victoria Keeps Secrets.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 220 ~Will’s Sound Of Silence~

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Is Braxton listening? How high’s the water bill just for refilling a bowl to sit there. Not wasting money on food as nobody needs to see me sobbing in the middle of Walmart. If it wasn’t for my madness, would I even speak? “Will’s Sound Of Silence.”

Saturday, February 6, 2021

Gospel 220 ~Will’s Sound Of Silence~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but not because I’m close to anything like Simon & Garfunkel. What does silence sound like?

Someone asked this on Ridiculousness. I’m surprised I remember that; it’s background noise because I’m still listening for Braxton. That’s the simplest answer I have, Lady Luna. A life with a dog and then keep living without them. Every day, keep going, on and on. Sobbing, screaming, up until the very end, I was praying. I have prayed, I mean really 3 times in my life. Only once for myself. Save him somehow, save my son, save my Braxton. Every time I left the house, I prayed continuously. Haven’t talked to God in 6 days. Seventh-day he rested if I know my Bible. Other books have become background as well without Braxton’s breaths, the beats of his heart. Even his bellyaching. Then he wasn’t eating.

Sucking up to me and dying. Showing such strength because Braxton didn’t want me to worry. I want to hear his paws on the floor again. The way he would lap up water and dive into food. Especially when he knew that there would be sharing Daddy’s sometimes. His “humpfs” Sleep came easier to the both of us. Well fuck, he protected me, and what did I do for him? I am not a liar, Lady Lu. I put him to “sleep?” No, I sleep when I can because when I wake up, I’m here without him. It’s 1 more second I have to live with what I’ve done. Murderer… say it again and again because he’s no longer here. Braxton, such was my goodness.

Sorry is all I hear now, which only makes the silence that much louder. The first day it was like the heavens opened up for my boy. Another day it was a choir. Then the “tryouts.” It’s been oh 6 days, I’m crying, my heart is cracking, breaking, shattering, yes. Selfish of me to put such suffering on others, isn’t it? I’m not blaming anyone but me. I’m the one who had to cover up his name because scammers, scum, and snakes came out of the woodwork. The one life I could turn to is the life that I ended. Braxton, I still talk to. Signs of my madness saying “Night, Night,” “Medicine Time, etc.

Because his quiet is too much. Will’s Sound of Silence.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 213 ~Will “B” Seeing You~

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Goodnight B, sweet dreams, I tell him like it’s any other night. I love you like pancakes, I say always. Now all I’m saying is “I’ll Help You” as I carry him around the house. I’m watching my son die… Will “B” Seeing You

Saturday, January 30, 2021

Gospel 213 ~Will “B” Seeing You~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I would give it all up to save him. My Dæmon, my Imp, My Prince, My Firstborn Son, little B. Some things there are no words for. I’ve listened to the vets. I have read and studied what I can in this short time, looking for answers. Not one thing helps. What I can do is watch, wait, and be willing. It’s why I’m crying now as I can’t stand to look at him like this, but I’ll be damned if I turn away. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it now “Always and Forever.” I’ve said these four words twice “My Dog Is Dying.”

It’s called Renal Failure (Kidney Failure or Disease). Excuse my ignorance on the subject, but the toxins are filling up in his body. Without his kidneys, he can no longer filter out the bad stuff. It also means he doesn’t want to take the basics, like food and water. “I’ll help you” seems as worthless as if I’d written it down. It’s actions, always actions. I carry him to the bathroom. Sometimes I’ll put him in front of his bowls and beg for him to take something, anything. I let him outside, and he tries, but there’s nothing left. Banfield is trying. I swear if I didn’t think so, I’d go all “John Q,” but what can they do now? “Not yet,” I keep repeating to myself, NOT YET. If I could give my life for his, there wouldn’t even be a question. He’s my child, and my best friend.

“Sleep,” I say, petting him again and again, holding him, keeping him next to me as I write this. Well, in-between the crying fits and Youtube. You have to let go and let God. Accept it, brother. That’s what the dude said in John Q. B sleeping, euthanasia writing The End. The Rainbow Bridge… I’ve been reading up on that too. I can’t imagine Heaven; I never planned on seeing it but for my son? I want to be where he is. He struggles to live because he still sees me. If I could tell him there was such a place if I knew I could follow? “Daddy” has never left his mouth, but that’s what I am to him. The two of us, Father and son, it’s always been.

And every minute that passes by… Will “B” Seeing You

I Will Have No Fear

Log 129 ~A Tease Of Will~

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Didn’t I talk about “Yabbos” last week, and here I am teasing myself to the point of madness this one or more the idea of them, though if you ask PornHub, a part of me likes something entirely different. A Tease Of Will.

Thursday, November 7, 2019

Log 129 ~A Tease Of Will~

WARNING, 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED

Come In Dirty Diana
I AM a Billionaire right now, and it sounds so much better than Millionaire. You know what word is annoying me today, though, TEASE. No, I’m not calling you that Dirty Diana, but you know I call women so much worse sometimes. Not in my novel, The “Wrist” of Playing Cronus, and it’s still so HARD. It’s only been twenty-four hours, and I’ve seen two naked models and talked to an escort. What about my model search, hell one more novel in the works. I still have to publish GULP, which requires reading and speaking of words I’m starting to hate:

Will’s Hated Words

  1. Skeevy
  2. Stupid
  3. Merge
  4. Happy
  5. Tease
  6. Freak

Sooner or later, I’ll have a top-ten, and should a writer hate any words at all? I was talking to Cherry today, and she’s a big fan of that movie, Lolita. Now that’s a dangerous word and why, longwinded book, a decent film, classic. What else can I say about it, Dirty Diana? So is the idea of legalized Sex Work; now did I mean for today to sound a bit political? I’m trying not to tease myself, which might explain why The “Wrist” of Playing Cronus is so tricky. If I were only writing a book for myself, it would be something else entirely. Who am I writing this book for then? I remember when I was in the shower, and I would moan about “Dirty Mom Tits” can you guess who I was talking about, hmm? For the record Breasts, Boobs, Milk Jugs, Dirty Pillows (yes, I’m a Carrie fan). Tits or titties might be one of my favorite words and images, DROOLS.

There are so many things I can’t say in The “Wrist” of Playing Cronus. Yes, I’m going to keep repeating that title until it turns me on. So am I saying it doesn’t right now; I’ve already named a bunch of the “muses” I’ve chosen so far. Funny for a man being so into breasts, none of the girls are true titans in that aspect minus the Hentai ones. Oh, and that’s another one, speaking of girls as opposed to women. Now that is a road I don’t want to travel down today. The last thing would have to be music. Anna Vlasova, aka Alissa, is helping with that, stripping in Marvel Charm, I’ll say.

Stopping A Tease Of Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 122 ~Will Haunts The Racks~

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Yabbos sounds like a brand of candy, but any Hocus Pocus fans might get upset because they know what I’m talking about; still, there are so many masks tonight, and we all know what some use Halloween for right? “Will Haunts The Racks.”

Thursday, October 31, 2019

Log 122 ~Will Haunts The Racks~

WARNING, 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED

Come In Dirty Diana
I AM a Billionaire right now, and there’s no such thing as too many bucks, bears, or breasts. Can you consider it sacrilege that there is not one piece of candy in this house? I’m all out of sour gummy bears, and if kids came ringing, well I wouldn’t hear them anyway. The doorbell doesn’t work, my right ear is all screwy, and here’s one more B for you, I have a brain. Between NaNoWriMo, Norton, and Nuts, there is too much going on this Halloween.

Well, Dirty Diana, that’s part of the reason I’m not still downloading “covered Yabbos” there’s so much to go over. Hell, there’s never enough bucks for sexy Yabbos; not a Hocus Pocus Fan? Not a bad movie but something I didn’t need to know about it was Thora Birch. Now given my proclivity to witches and no I refuse to show you “those” witchy pictures. Anyway, you remember how I stared at Thora Birch when she grew up for American Beauty? Now those ladies and gentlemen were incredible breasts. It must be the same for people who watched Arya Stark played by Maisie Williams growing up. I remember General Hospital. Once Sabrina dressed up in a pink frilly nightgown with pigtails. Next, you see little Emma in the same outfit, so yeah, that fantasy is forever ruined. What about Cherry, SIGH. The beat goes on.

You’re asking me on today of all days it is All Hallows’ Eve mind you. Why aren’t I talking about masks, faces, horror? What’s scarier than a truck driver wearing a tutu, with a dildo up his ass? What, some books stick with you and Dennis Hof was quite descriptive. Thursdays I’m supposed to “be myself,” and for now that’s a man who likes boobs. Don’t ask me why and don’t be racist, saying I should choose asses, though I get it, closer to the goal. One more thing I should be planning on, that 50,000-word goal, and I couldn’t get it up to go outside. Now Yabbos do that for me, no doubt. I wasn’t thinking about Thora Birch’s boobs in The Walking Dead but Cassady McClincy, aka Lydia? Yes, I looked up her age “safety.” There are lots of slutty costumes tonight. You know how I’m one for cosplay, cash, and maybe I’ll close my mouth, send candy.

Only Will Haunts The Racks.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 115 ~The Forbidden Dance Will~

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I can remember when I use to dance, my feet had more time back then, but between crawling at work, walking my Firstborn, and trying to run the world from every angle well, the heart of rock and roll is still beating. “The Forbidden Dance Will,” right

Thursday, October 17, 2019

Log 115 ~The Forbidden Dance Will~

WARNING, 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED

Come In Dirty Diana
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I will take dance lessons at some point. SIGH already, this is supposed to be a fun day, but of course, as the song goes, MEMORIES. The last time I danced at a wedding? It was my aunt’s. Yeah, I was much too young to be thinking about girls at that point. My next significant dance memory was freezing still. That’s when some girl was Twerking in my face at my grandparent’s house. My memories don’t mesh with It’s A Southern Thing but Talia Lin, cue Homer Simpson drooling.

Before I lose myself to pity, okay, I’m thinking about Indiana Gone’s wedding, of course. Dear Dirty Diana, I wanted to dance, that’s the “gospel” truth. Only my body would not let me go down that road but 1,500 miles sure. Still ten feet, hell, what about two? I’ve told you fantasies I’ve had, but what about that promise I made? I told myself I would stop the car and dance with my girl to “Drunk On You.” No, I was more inclined to only look it up on Spotify. I should focus on another type of dancing. Only what about that number from Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” so beautiful. What about Final Fantasy VIII, the graduation dance? All this is coming from a guy that wants to shoot porn. I can’t dance like no one’s watching. The worst thing ever, maybe?

She wasn’t exactly asking for the Lambada, Dirty Diana. I talk about how brave I was to show up, and my feet were doing all kinds of dancing. I’m a practicing dominant. I want a girl dancing to my music and nothing else. My voice should be enough for them. You know I’m not one for leather but chains, whips, and lingerie to keep a woman from running away. Now, doesn’t that sound a bit creepy or what’s that other word I almost forgot, hmm?

The List:

  1. Skeevy
  2. Stupid
  3. Merge
  4. Happy

Dancing, to me, is somewhat like laughter. I can laugh, but more often than not, it hurts me though I LOL with the best. I find myself wanting to dance at work, but I’ll do anything to keep from crying. Still, I have nothing against strippers, asses are good, but I’m a breast man. So why couldn’t I have happiness?

It’s The Forbidden Dance Will.

I Will Have No Fear