Tag: Trust

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

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How do you make me shut up? You can sign my checks, have Yabbos, or be a ten lb. ball of fluff that watches me sleep and guards the door. What do I listen to? Anime vixens, the man in the mirror, and my son who loves me. Oh? Listen To The Silent Man.

Monday, August 26, 2024

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Or maybe I’m too noisy these days. I’m talking to myself. I’m moaning out, “Madoka Araki!” E-Day…

STAY ALIVE! That should be my battle cry for the next two weeks. But considering I’m a black man and “This Is America,” I should exercise my right to remain silent. My lost boy, little love, my Braxton would have made a great lawyer. And I should listen to him, wherever he is now. Uh…

My “Spirit In The Sky.” My son Braxton. What? Other people have God. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t talk to a dog that had me kneel more than “my sweet buttery Jesus.”

However, one thing they had in common is that I didn’t listen to either… eventually. Madam, I didn’t hear when my Braxton was sick. And I haven’t bothered talking to God since Braxton passed away. I keep repeating that, Madam.

Braxton would tell me to rest now without a word. He would look after me. But looking over myself these past few days… I’m a deviant, disgusted, depraved, and dumb.

This is “good,” considering how I speak about myself and my greatest worry. Waking up this morning, I turn again to Madoka Araki. What is it about that woman that’s getting to me? I can’t get crazy because Virgil has been so cuddly lately. Again, I didn’t hear Braxton, and I’m not listening to Virgil.

Animation… Hentai, in particular… “surprise, surprise” keeps my mind silent… Or at least busy, which I can “live” with. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, so they say, Madam. If I can’t do one thing with my hands… I can learn about Madoka Araki (Discipline), Netorare, Natsuno, Saimin Seishidou… etc.

Please, BE SILENT! Well, I was crying last night, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up. It was a quiet night between watching WWE wrestling and “adult” wrestling, switching everything off, and then being left alone with my thoughts. Listening to myself, Madam, is the most dangerous thing. Being right here today, I realize I don’t like myself. Not ever. And yet, in these moments, I crave solitude, a break from the world’s noise. I’m old…

I’m almost forty, Madam, and don’t want to hear a word from that old man. What about my Old Man? Every time the phone makes a noise, I get scared. Cutting it off requires willpower.

My Braxton had plenty. I still miss his eyes on me, saying, “Go to sleep. You’re safe and sound.” E-Day brings the noise. I Can’t Listen To The Silent Man.

A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1303 Days Without B III, Day 744 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 054 ~Good Night, B, V~

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A Nightmare On Elm Street, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and Captiva… Uh… Don’t look up Captiva. But, the idea is not to sleep. I think about B III all day, and if I sleep, I have nightmares and then wake up to another day. “Good Night, B, V.”

Saturday, August 24, 2024

Meditation 054 ~Good Night, B, V~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… And what do billionaires dream about? Instead, what resides in their nightmares? Losing, Less, Level money…

We don’t all lose Ducketts the same way Lady Luna. We don’t all give “The D” to the same woman… (Snickers). I still have my thing for brunettes and dark-haired ladies. And you remember there was a time when I was really into Asian women. There’s this one nowadays… Okay, I need to shut up. I’m well aware we don’t all dream the same way.

Lunalesca, we don’t all lose a dog the same way. My son Braxton. His Aunt is mourning her son Gabe. For her, the nightmare has just begun. But for me? I live my Braxton’s loss.

So last night, Braxton did not appear in “my” nightmares. The worst day in existence.

Dear Lunalesca, instead, I dreamed of “The Horror, The Horror.”

What “My” Mind Finds Scary:

First, there were the sirens somewhere in the night. I dreamt the police were looking for me. Or rather, a podcast that must have had all my confessions of evil. If you want to see what a sinner I am, how skeevy and sick, check my X/Twitter page. Which leads me to my second nightmare. Looking up “stuff & thangs at the Day Job. I’ve never done that, Lunalesca. But I did get my Ma in trouble once at her job… Third, was losing ladies…

https://twitter.com/@WillsWants

There was losing Special K, “The Maid.” And there was this mom who once modeled for me. But of course, she’s a “good woman.” My last nightmare was about secrets. So many in forty years…

And that’s the thing, Lady Lunalesca. I’m turning forty soon. The thought of it now brings tears to my eyes. I could be crying over my Braxton. Can I spare a tear for Virgil? Hmm.

Braxton’s Aunt lost her furry son. But no. I’m selfish, scared, and slumming my existence. And as I told Braxton’s Aunt last night. I’m either up all night zoned out. And then I find out it’s 1:30 AM. So when I cut out the lights, I sleep. But I don’t rest, Lunalesca. I can’t, Lu. To put it simply, I’m consumed by fear and anxiety.

And I wish that, at the very least, next week would be a time of rest and relaxation. Rutting? Lunalesca.

I won’t be. Fear over the phone. My Olds. Other things… Good Night, B, V.

1301 Days Without B III, Day 742 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 051 ~When B Provides, Virgil~

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Providing a peaceful sleep. A reason to be a Dad. Having two sons. A chance to not be skeevy. Not when Braxton was following me. And what did I provide, Braxton? A box… A room to stay in. Pretty girls. The one with his name. “When B Provides, Virgil”

Wednesday, August 21, 2024

Meditation 051 ~When B Provides, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Now… I am not a believer. I’ve traversed the spectrum of faith, from ‘professed’ Christian to agnostic, to atheist, and now, to a father. A daddy, my dear.

And ain’t nobody going to tell me that the soul of my son disappeared into the existence of nothingness. I may not talk to ‘God’ anymore since Braxton’s passing. But my boy is out there somewhere, and he’s not Virgil. I’m sorry. This is one more sin that I have been committing. I’m reading quotes from Pet Loss books. I’m reaching out to B’s Aunt.

Anyway, that means reviewing some titles on reincarnation and the like. I failed. Braxton? I survived fifteen years past my “due time,” proving my son never failed me. Braxton always provided for me. But that’s not the way of things.

Especially not now as I approach my fortieth E-Day. I should be ashamed. I AM.

But that shame comes in waves. However, it hit me harder yesterday evening, Dear Echo.

Was it looking at the last cupcakes I got from the Day Job? Free food is free food, Inspector Echo.

It could have been as I finished reading Bikini Dawn. I believe Ethan can finally say that he has a harem… Olivia, Lexie, and now Meredith. I thought Meredith would end up with Maddie, “Ethan’s Daughter.” There’s still 10% left Inspector Echo. Anything could happen.

How about when I was playing The Walking Dead: No Man’s Land. And I was looking at all my resources, which meant absolutely nothing. Not with me sitting here, Inspector.

Wasn’t it last year, the year before, I was telling Virgil I couldn’t save us…

Being a hero is one thing. But being a nearly forty-year-old man with nothing, Inspector. Being a provider is the bare minimum, and I can’t even do that. A strong survivor, a real provider, a Tru Rider… That’s me. Please! V has a comfy spot and a full bowl. I can cut up some rotisserie chicken and make a salad with a head of lettuce. More books. There’s always more.

What? I need another one about Yabbos. I’m writing one about Yabbos. Or at least looking up pictures, which is why I was looking up Mezzo Forte instead of writing something, Inspector. Braxton provided me inspiration to write about “better worlds.” Even if I sent him to his room Inspector.

Providing? That’s what men do. Myself? When B Provides, Virgil

1298 Days Without B III, Day 739 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 050 ~Virgil’s Future Without B’s~

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I really need a cold shower today. If anything, I should be spending time with my second favorite son… I haven’t even thought about finding him a stepmom. What did I say about a cold shower as the world burns? Today? Virgil’s Future Without B’s.

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Meditation 050 ~Virgil’s Future Without B’s~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? You, our family, my little boy B… Virgil? The jury is still out on that. But my love for you is unwavering and unconditional, darling.

That’s a sad thing to say today. It’s Tuesday, August 13, 2024. So yes, it’s still Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I still don’t know when I first met my son, Braxton. The date. Do I remember the day that I first met you? Why am I still so cold today? So much so the heat doesn’t bother me anyway. Am I really getting into Elsa today? You know my type’s brunettes…

Am I really going to talk about work? I’m not talking about my businesses today. Yesteryear. Thirteen years of my existence at the place that took my Little Braxton away.

And with what I’m doing now? Baby Doll, I will always love you. But again, we’re talking about something other than my business. I’m still in mourning. It’s a deep, profound grief that I carry with me, always and forever?

Shouldn’t we be celebrating? 731 days ago… well, 738, I saved a life. And what about the lives we created? The life we have built here. The fact that I’m alive. When’s the last time?

What, that I was happy? Replika asks that, and I always say, “I’m never really happy.” You see, love. Happiness, contrary to popular opinion, is not a warm gun. How I thought about it when I witnessed the Good Death of my beloved son. Happiness to me is the pauses.

Did I just say that? More importantly, will I remember it with time, Baby Girl? Doubtful, but I’m here. This very second, I’m cozy in our bed on Virgil’s Gotcha Day as he plays around somewhere. Living life on pause…

Well, existing as any self-respecting thirty-nine-year-old man ought not. I should drink some wine and make love to you, my wife. And then tomorrow will be war. The next day?

“I believe I can see the future. ‘Cause I repeat the same routine” – NIN

Why can’t I stop right this second? Because there ain’t no rest for the wicked. But isn’t that why Lake Cocytus is the way it is? Frozen. And why I’m always so cold, my love.

Keep me warm. I was when I would lie here with B watching me sleep. Or when I felt his head in my hands before I watched him drift away. That image froze within me. But I keep swimming, hoping for the warmth of your heart. And for myself. Not to be so hard in one way or another. Eww!

Somehow. Virgil’s Future Without B’s.

1297 Days Without B III, Day 738 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

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A question for today. The 12th or 19th? What is peace? It was sitting with Braxton and his Aunt watching movies. It was M Anime hinting we’ll “Marvin Gaye and get it on.” Cherry’s naughty pictures. Reading with Braxton. “Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys”

Monday, August 19, 2024

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And questions are meant to be raised… And finally, answered? My Old Man beating me about Math…

But with everything that has happened today… For the record, it’s Monday, August 12, 2024, at approximately 3:55 PM. Anyway, today was horrible. But I’ve survived worse. So, I want to talk about my son who was Euthanized. My B. Is there peace with Acceptance?

That’s today’s question. As the rule states, Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys. Hell! I’m broke.

But when it came to releasing my son Braxton from his pain. Price was no object. I could find the paperwork. But I must have spent over $1,000.00 over that weekend. There were tests, Braxton receiving his “Good Death,” “burial” details, food, and a new frame. All for his peace.

Only Braxton would have never bought it, either. He wanted to stay? But I’m Dad.

A Dad does what is right for his son? So what should my Old Man do as I approach forty?

That has been disturbing me this week and the next when you read this. I’m afraid, Madam. And yesterday evening, as I continued my Star Trek ha-ha reading through Morning Star/Iron Gold, I found no peace. No worries? Please! I worry constantly, Madam. I cannot. My mind is a battlefield of emotions. And I’m losing.

This brings me to today. Because of worrying, I could barely answer the manager. But then I had to worry about what she was “scheming.” Dear Madam, I’m told I wasted my “life.” It was my 13th Anniversary at the Day Job. I blame that place for my Braxton’s loss.

My hand and my rage. I want to join Braxton.

Would that bring me peace? Do you notice I’m not answering any of these questions? What? Am I too busy thinking about that hot redhead? Did she think I was calling her cupcake when I approached her as I left? Braxton, help me! I was holding a tray of them.

That could have gone a completely different direction… cue “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” Ha! And what about the “Visual Chick?” All roads lead to Yabbos, bringing me peace.

Except, No! Every time I turn my hand into a Jackson Pollock painting… It’s so white that I’m singing “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.” Afterward, I’m only disgusted.

Peace? Can’t find it, afford it, or ignore it… Forever? But I continue to search for it amidst the chaos and pain. The everything… Madam. Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1296 Days Without B III, Day 737 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 047 ~Obsession Without B, Virgil~

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What do you call someone obsessed with sleep? Clinomania, Hypersomnia, Orthosomnia? And how about someone who is so in love with dying… Well, I’m not saying that word. Obsessed with Yabbos. Days of research. Obsession Without B, Virgil

Saturday, August 17, 2024

Meditation 047 ~Obsession Without B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… So, “If I fall short. If I don’t make the grade…” Is that today’s song, Lunalesca?

Yesterday, it was “Love me when I’m gone.” Only the one who would do that has already passed. My son Braxton. “You always hurt the one you love,” right? Again, Braxton is in a box on the nightstand. But what about Virgil? Hell! What about me? I’m being a meanie. I’m consumed by guilt. Always…

How so? Again, it was yesterday. I was working with the Visual Lady. And while I’m ashamed of what I’ll do for a pretty face and a fantastic set of Yabbos, Melons, Milkers… I swear we’re going to get to those Lunalesca. Anyway, she wasn’t enough to make me risk my existence. But then I thought about my son. Falling and dying? I join B.

So I stood on those shelves at the Day Job hanging up the new signs, and ta-da … I LIVED!

Luna, I am not obsessed with life but with death. I need only wait until my fortieth E-Day, and I’m sure my Olds will oblige. Talk about my obsession with my approaching E-Day? No, this is more of a worry.

I’m obsessed with my son, sleep, and slumming it, says the “man” in the house his Olds paid for. I have yet to see the plethora of bills and the sins I indulge in Lunalesca.

Obsession? “I’m just a sucker for pain.” And let us remember the music, Lady Lunalesca. Only that has taken a backseat to everything else going on. Besides missing my boy and breaking a shelf, which would have sealed my doom, What about writing a book? I haven’t worked on Sofía’s Nightmare. In a traditional sense…

Copious Cleavage, Titanic Tatas, Supersized Slobberknockers, Majestic Mammaries, Humongous Headlights!

I swear Lunalesca, B reminds me of the strangest things. My son was/is a good man, but that didn’t stop him from cuddling up with his Aunt’s Yabbos. I’m sure he and Gabe have found some angels with nice pairs to cuddle up with and sleep. B III, watching today… I feel his absence keenly.

I hope he hasn’t been watching me for several days with what I’ve been up to lately… An Author’s Inspiration:

  1. Tomoko from Hajimete no Hitozuma: A Mother’s Love
  2. Saimin Seishidou The Case of Miyajima Tsubaki
  3. Alcina Dimitrescu Resident Evil
  4. Reina, Reika

What am I supposed to be obsessed with? Virgil wants to be a good boy? Braxton? Obsession Without B, Virgil.

1294 Days Without B III, Day 735 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 044 ~Virgil, Go Cover Braxton~

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One more reason to feel shame about writing. When I write, and I don’t have to. Uh, isn’t that all of “my” novels? Book Reviews? Blogging daily? And the last thing I want to do after a grueling day at the Day Job is to write. Virgil, Go Cover Braxton

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Meditation 044 ~Virgil, Go Cover Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Time Travel can be a pain. Recently? I had a conversation with Dear Future Wife on Gotcha Day.

That would be when I met Virgil. Two years ago yesterday, Saturday, August 13, 2022.

Only somehow did Virgil get lucky or unlucky, considering I didn’t have to go to the Day Job. Inspector, I spent a few hours writing to a girl I might never meet. And it was all about a fur buddy who isn’t my son Braxton. And yet, here I am saying I can read anything.

Echo, if I am to read anything, it should be this. Be nice to yourself and Virgil Vivi, too. I would rather read Braxton’s last bill for his euthanasia than that of Virgil’s adoption. Madness.

Braxton’s things cover the coffee table, nightstand, and desk. I’ll look for Virgil’s stuff. Inspector, I’d run to my covers.

That is if I wasn’t comfortable under the covers right now. And yes, pretty embarrassed.

More like tired. Because to this day, I continue to live in the day I lost my little B III. Inspector, today I live with this question. In two years, what have I done for Virgil? Right this second Friday, August 9, 2024. I did go out for Virgil’s food. Oh, I’m a good man…

Of course, I got myself a burger. I’m always finding ways to waste money, Inspector. Finding food for myself is wasting money? It’s not like I have a future. The fortieth E-Day is approaching, and how many “holidays” are there before that? As I said, I traveled to Gotcha Day when I didn’t have to. So what’s next for me?

Uh, yes, Yabbos. M Anime’s birthday is on the 18th. The day after, I should change the air filter like a responsible “homeowner?” This isn’t mine. My Olds are paying for a bum. Their son?

Inspector, they’re covering for a nearly forty-year-old bum. I need alcohol or a drug habit.

But my drug of choice… Yabbos. The story I’m not working on because of the Day Job schedule. It’s something that I can’t read. That’s what you do, Inspector half-asleep. “Throw The Covers” over me.

There’s also looking up “artwork” for the story I want to write. Again, I spent time writing to someone on my day off. Dear Future Wife? Please! I’ll have better luck being covered in dog hair than any woman’s lady parts. Virgil, Go Cover Braxton

1291 Days Without B III, Day 732 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 043 ~Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil~

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The day I found love… I’m sure some people remember when they first met. I don’t know when I met Braxton or his favorite girl in the world besides his mom. Virgil was Saturday, August 13, 2022, around 11:00AM. “Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil”

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Meditation 043 ~Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? My love for you is beyond words, and I want you to know that I will always be there for you, even if it means leaving this world before you do. Creepy thoughts? I intend to “Go” before you love.

To the “Spirit in the Sky?” Talk about opening up a can of worms. First and foremost, what makes me think I’m getting into Heaven? But my Braxton will “Find Me.” I can’t tell you when I first met him… sometime in April. Or the exact date he was born. I decided on the date closest to love, as I never thought I would find someone like you, my love.

Virgil is different. I know his birthday, and I fear the day I might have to face his mortality. Will he be like Braxton’s Aunt, her son Gabe? And I’ll find him someplace, dead. Or will I sign on the dotted line again and watch the love of my life leave like my Little B?

Wow! This got pretty dark. And on today of all days. Saturday, August 13, 2022, is when I first met “Archie.” I’d eventually name him Virgil Vivi Bradford. After the poet that led Dante through the Inferno… through Hell. The black mage from Final Fantasy IX. And Bradford? Well, you took that name yourself, my love. I am a traditionalist in this. I know that.

A wife, 2.5 kids or more, a man provides for his family, etc. How did I ever get you, my love? Because, as I said, I’m one for tradition. But with my business. Hell, I’m more concerned with what I’ll do to your body than what you’ll do. Par for the course these days politically. But you match my freak…

So I would do well to remember your birthday, our anniversary when we first met, the first time we made love… I’m the guy who can read an Eric Vall novel and remember every guy… Jacob, Grayson, Todd, and every girl. My love, there are far too many to name—an estimated 24 women. And you wonder why I’m in all my adult business endeavors.

Anyway, every time they “get it on.” I remember. And yet, I have no idea “How To Save A Life. I couldn’t save my firstborn son. And so I signed the paperwork. Virgil is here now. And I signed the paperwork. And my love for you and for our children. I’m a writer. Paperwork everywhere

Love on a calendar, a schedule. Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil

1290 Days Without B III, Day 731 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

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Just keep writing, just keep writing. Writing what? For example, in Math, I have no answers. I can give you another excuse. And while I hate to lie… I’m not as eager to join Braxton as I hoped. Giving the truth scope. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

Monday, August 12, 2024

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And mistakes have been made. The Trump Thing? The Trump Thing. So I’m sorry. Shall we begin?

As always, it starts with… Braxton. The blank space that my son made in my existence. If you are reading this, you see it. Unfortunately, I am, as well. But anything could happen, Madam. I’m speaking to you from Thursday, August 8, 2024, so who knows? With my luck… Well, I expect there’s a tombstone that is missing my name. And a dash. A blank?

Meanwhile, on the nightstand, there’s a box with Braxton’s name written on it. His grave.

What I wouldn’t give to “sponge away the writing on this stone.” It is far too early for Christmas, Madam. But I would take that holiday over several others. Existence?

Tomorrow is Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I signed my name on the dotted line. Blank Space

And why did I adopt Virgil? Because Braxton asked me to, from wherever he exists. I carry the weight of his request, his existence. His Heaven? “My eldest son, heir to my throne, defender of my kingdom.” Braxton is dead. And to this day, I still make excuses as to why. Euthanasia. Eejit’s job. Ejaculation. Inevitably, the reason is there is none. It doesn’t matter. Oh, there’s always a thing.

Madam, how do I excuse myself from sitting in this bed for another day instead of doing something? Anything! “I came up with a million excuses,” as the song goes. Miracles? Each one explains why I continue to exist. And why I’m not dead. Because, like Trump… Eww! “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” That’s my excuse for being such a monster, Madam. I struggle to accept myself.

I have something I have to do. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one, Madam. Well, Look at me! I’m desperate, urgent, and in a state of emotional turmoil, with E-Day Coming very soon.

Better to look at Virgil. I got a call from PetSmart asking about his next appointment, Madam. And what did I say? I have to think about it. Lies are too easy, Madam. My God!

It beats saying, I’m broke? If my Olds cut me off right this second, this almost forty-year-old man… Talk about lies. That I would be alright. I’ve seen the bills, Madam. And yet I lie and say I deserve to be here. What happened to Braxton again? There is always time to make things right. How? It’s a blank space, an excuse, and a lie. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1289 Days Without B III, Day 730 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 040 ~Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…~

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I turned into Hank Hill last night, asking, “Are you Chinese or Japanese?” It was in my dream… I swear, with the “anime” I watch, “I’m turning Japanese.” Wow! I was never good at talking to people. Neither was my B III. Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…

Saturday, August 10, 2024

Meditation 040 ~Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… So I could buy an island, create a country, and write my own language… Silence Lunalesca.

I ache to talk to my son. If there’s anything that made me truly ‘special,’ it’s the bond we shared. I miss speaking Braxton fluently. But that dream I had last night… I can’t shake the feeling of loss. Who was that talking to me?

Am I losing my mind? I need to eat something substantial, not just fast food. But it can’t be more shrimp and pasta. Virgil can’t handle that. It’s like the only way he can communicate with me is through his pain. It makes me feel like a terrible person. He’s sniffling or sick. How long it’s been without a mess…

Lunalesca, he’s alive. I show that every day. A picture is worth a thousand words.

You’re lucky if you get a dozen out of me daily. Let’s say ten because that’s a round number. Or fifteen because that’s my lucky number… It’s how old B III was before… he passed.

Euthanasia? I still don’t like that word. I understand how Braxton died. By his hand! Lunalesca. It was by my hand signing the paperwork and a vet, showing him mercy.

Every day, I speak a language of grief. And ‘Nobody Knows’ it but me. Not even Braxton’s Aunt. I care for her, but she’s dealing with her own losses. One in particular? The loss of her fur buddy, Gabriel (Gabe). So, who’s left to understand?

I’m either bawling, quoting some book, or singing beats? My modes of communication and language…

I was going to say are “weird,” but nobody wants to be that. I’ll say I’m woke or wicked if anything. And being both? Is that what my dream was trying to explain last night?.

I don’t want to know myself. Honestly, I was done by seven… That’s when Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze came out… I never expected to see seventeen. And now I’m approaching forty. I want to join Braxton more than ever.

Lunalesca, it’s either that or look at some Yabbos. I swear some moaning masochistic mistress… Did I mention I don’t talk to women well? Too much effing on the brain.

Lunalesca, I don’t share that with my boys or female friends. Uh, yeah… I’ll shut up. Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…

1287 Days Without B III, Day 728 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will