Tale 301 ~Virgil Storms Braxton’s Gates~

Will it rain? Am I going to cry about Braxton now? Or will I find some girl to drool over? Or I could work hard and clean up after Virgil. I could cut the grass or fix the fence. Now that’s funny? A storm of activity. “Virgil Storms Braxton’s Gates.”

Saturday, April 27, 2024

Tale 301 ~Virgil Storms Braxton’s Gates~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now… How about asking the questions, “How Are You,” How Do You Feel,” or “Are You Alright?”

I’m exhausted right now. I’m not napping now because I want the cappuccino to stay warm—not as cold as my firstborn son. It’s always about Braxton. Here and now.

Yesterday, more like this whole week, has had me contemplating my Braxton’s final breath. It’s cruel that I must use his memory to remind me of this. No matter how bad things get, I’ve survived worse. I’ve seen fire, and I’ve seen rain. But Sunny Days, Lunalesca. Let the storms come. The sound of thunder is nothing to Braxton’s silence.

I had to listen to the third worst thing this universe offers only yesterday. It was my voice while I hid in the office like a pathetic coward on Friday.

The critic keeps telling me I need to be positive. Virgil cries more than me. I swear, one of these days, we might end up drowning each other in tears.

Lunalesca, he doesn’t even sleep in here anymore. I set up the gate and placed his pillow outside in the hall. I don’t know how this all started, but this week has been challenging, Luna.

Again, it has me imagining my son’s last breath and the emptiness that came after. Then there’s the second-worst sound in the world. That’d be my birth, breathing and crying.

Do you understand why I need my music, manuscripts, moans, and meaningless distractions? All as I lay here upon this mattress. In this house, Lunalesca.

And still, I’ll have to go over the gate because Virgil needs something. Being manly… Lunalesca that means I have to be a Dad. Or at least someone who takes care of his responsibilities. Have I looked around the house? The place is falling apart. Money? If I keep behaving as I did yesterday, I won’t have the little bit that I have now, Lunalesca.

All I’m finding is fear. And any forgiveness eludes me. Like a dry spot, Lunalesca. Virgil is going 1 and 2 all over. What am I doing besides cleaning up after him? As for me.

Everyone says, “blood, sweat, and tears.” Not to mention other bodily fluids. Because I can’t keep my pants on, Lunalesca. Being a coward or creep. Raining, pouring, the old man’s snoring. Virgil Storms Braxton’s Gates

1182 Days Without B III, Day 623 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,

Consider It A Wind

There are so many storms in life and I take my shelter upon the page but yet some storms are stronger than others and it helps to remind myself to be grateful for some things. Consider It A Wind, words can be so much stronger than any hurricane.

When it’s not rumor or speculation a blend
of lies, cult fiction, the insane
that happens to be the norm.

Or that chill that leaves you deformed
and shows how your backbone has thinned
but you are not lame.

In fact, you eat and claim
plenty, while the food is warm
as you tell a few or your best friend

You can’t wait till your name ascends
into the spotlight, pages heights, and some librarian to blame
because your book transformed

a woman into literature, from perfect to misinformed
to lost and torn, a dream of sin
only every day is exactly the same

Even if your name is mud, you’re scared or in pain
ashamed, name on a blog, but not on a news crawl, saying the storm,
hurricane, death toll, no I’m back again

“Considering It A Wind”, and it will be a win
Really, when I forget your so vain
your every loving name; for a new obsession, I just printed the forms.

Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.