Will you breathe? Will, breathe. More like, “Daddy, breathe.” Because when my furry little boy died, I didn’t plan on it. But I’ve managed for 1212 days. There are always more books to read. Or babes to look at. But to exist? Harder To Breathe Up Top
Monday, May 27, 2024
Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~
Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fifth Rule
Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Some people cancel them outright. Some are forgotten about. And still, some will evolve into, well, anything.
It makes my head hurt, along with the time travel. I’m speaking to you on Tuesday, May 21, 2024. However, when this rule was written out, I traced it back to 2018. I mean, wow!
I figured I’d be in another place entirely. Braxton would be twenty next year. And that’s when I expected to lose him. That is if he didn’t lose me by smothering me with his fur.
So what’s making my head hurt now? Why am I breathing when I don’t really want to, Madam? Let’s start by raising my head in the morning. The first breath that enters my lungs. It’s either my Braxton’s name that comes out. Or expletives from my mourning or moaning. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This.
I’m glad I covered the mirror in the bedroom. But there is the black mirror, AKA the phone, on the table beside me. I hold my breath, looking at the beauty of others. My mind.
Inevitably, I will find other ways not to breathe and instead sound like the zombie I imagine I am. The moans of newly found flesh.
Did I really just say that? And what’s worse is the look on my face when I say or do such things. Taking OnlyFans pictures.
But I could be so exhausted that whatever… risqué book I’m reading falls and hits me in the face. How many times has that happened?
And yet I live. My head stays intact. Breathing away and denying my fondest wish.
What? To follow Braxton wherever he went. The Rainbow Bridge? I am Braxton’s father, but if I had been even more of a man… Would he have lived? I keep asking myself that, Madam. I wanted to be a man of money, merit, and miracles. I would build our Heaven.
There would be no air because we would have everything, and no one could touch my son or me. And yet he found it. I suppose. My B III is sitting in his bed on the vet’s table, not breathing. As for me? When was the last time the “bigger head” has been up? Uhh…
There’s plenty of air as I fall Down To Earth. Nobody but Virgil and I. Harder To Breathe Up Top
“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock
1212 Days Without B III, Day 653 of Virgil’s Arrival
B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will