Damn you, Buddy.

“Make love to me
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this,
but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop
without jumping.
I have realized that the moon
did not have to be full for us to love it.
That we are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it.
That if our hearts
really broke
every time we fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.
But hearts don’t break, y’all,
they bruise and get better.
We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.
You call 9 – 1 – 1.
Tell them I’m havin’ a fantastic time.”

—	Buddy Wakefield, We Were Emergencies.

As a youngin I used to rock over sized T-Shirts, sometimes I'd wear 'em backwards, sometimes inside out. Rap duo Kriss Kross were to blame. They may of not made a dent in Hip Hop's life but they did in mine. 
RIP Chris Kelly

I used to steal 20s from your purse. 

I’d stuff them in that box you’re in if it’d make you rise from that dirt.

You used to hang your purse in the closet we shared as a youngin.

I locked the door one day and my curious self went through it.

I checked out your wallet and I was amazed. The way you organized every bill, everything facing one way. Straight with no creases in them.  The way you wrapped your ones in increments of ten.  So OCD like, like you’d know if someone went through it.

But my trouble maker self took a 20 anyways.

I never had the intentions of stealing money from you to spend it. Inevitably that’s what happened. But I did it because I liked the idea of having money in my pocket.  Boss status.

It started with one 20 and lead to another and another and another where I can’t even remember how much I took from you.

I realized you figured someone had sticky fingers because you eventually moved your bag.  

I never shared this with a soul. Because I was never proud of it. Even when kids talked about stealing bills from their parents or grandparents I always told them they were crazy. Little did they know…

After you died I ransacked your bedroom. Looking through everything you left behind. Looking for the letter you were suppose to leave me. Like in the movies. A letter telling me you’ll always be there for me. I never found it. But I still ransack your room thinking you’re just playing hide and seek with me and you were a god damn good hider.  

In your closet now hangs one of those reusable bags. When you died we added your purse into that box with you. We had to empty out your bag though because damn, you kept soo many unnecessary things. Inside that reusable bag are items that didn’t make the cut; two bottles of Ensure, an endless supply of nail cutters, two rosaries, bank statements, a wallet, etc.

You know I had to go through that wallet right? Well I did. I remember you kept two wallets in your purse. This wallet you never used. When I first went through it, nothing much was in it. There was your pacemaker identification card, one on the boys concert stub and two studio pictures, one of josh and Jeremy when they were babies and the family picture we took back in ’03.

That reusable bag stayed hanging in your closet and I rarely touched it because there was nothing in it (so I thought) that needed ransacking every time I went through an episode.

When this year started I decided that one of the things I was going to change was I was gonna stop locking you up in your room. I used to keep your door locked because the idea of your door open always tripped me out when I would come home really shit faced. Like you were still around and I had to quietly find my bedroom without making too much noise.

So I ransacked your room again, cleaning and rearranging.  That reusable bag that hangs in your closet was calling me one day so I grabbed it. I chuckled again at the memory of these item are the shits you kept in your bag.

I picked up that wallet you never used. It was a gold plastic type LV wallet screaming FAKE. Inside were the same items, your pacemaker identification card, the concert stub and the two studio photos. Just before I was about to shut it close and put it back into that reusable bag to hang back in your closet I see something, that I swear wasn’t there before.

You surprised me with four 20 dollar bills.

I stopped playing hide and seek after that. I found that letter.I know you’ll always be here, for me.

[I started this piece on March 1st hoping I'd finish this by March 16 in time for my grandma's 2 year death anniversary. But I found it difficult to finish this to where I felt comfortable posting it online. In all honesty I had to rewrite this a couple times.]

Happy Anniversary, grandma.

Hold the night for ransom as we kidnap the memories

Not sure there is a way to express what you meant to me

Sit around a table and use those years as the centerpiece 

"Close some doors today. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because they lead you nowhere" -Paulo Coelho

Gut kick of bitter

Jared Singer is fucking AMAZING.

Every flavor, after taste and smell carefully chosen to remind me how I feel about you. 

What flavor will I leave on your tongue? What memories of me will you hold in my mouth?

phone call

* Hella late post.* I try to dedicate a piece to my grandparents for their birthdays or death anniversary to pay homage to them. my grandmas birthday was November 1st but I've been hella busy this last semester I never posted anything up.
This is for her.

I feel like you're on vacation and you haven't been checking in

So I pick up the phone and dial a number and I let it ring

And ring

And  since March, all its done was ring

So I try another number and another and another

I'd imagine that your in a small  hut grandpa built you, tucked in a little section of the field he farmed on to far from the phone.

Or maybe I'd call and someone's using the other line  or I'd call and it's too early or too late.

Whatever the reason is, I'd always miss catching you

And all I really want to do is say 'Hi'

So I dial numbers and I let it ring, ring

And after what feels like forever it goes silent on the other end

Leaving me with just a buzz of nothingness

But I keep trying until it reaches November

Because when November hits I'd realized I've been dialing the wrong numbers this whole time.

And the problem is..

Heaven isn't listed in the phone book

Nor is death

Nor is pain

Nor is regret

Nor is  I'm sorry

But I keep trying 

Cause eventually I'll find a number that'll reach you.

And all I need you to do is tell me I'll be okay.

Or tell me how silly I looked that one night

And you'll shake your head and tell me I still haven't changed

You'd laugh, I'd laugh and we'd just pick up from there.

But until that day when I can reach you, I'll be over here dialing numbers tryna get at you.

Death does not come when a body is too exhausted to live
Death comes, because the brilliance inside us can only be contained for so long.