One last chance
Just one last time to see them. That’s my wish. If y’all know someone that can make this happen, point me in the direction. I mourn deeply. Every once in a while I get in my feelings and be like… damn so many. The tat on my back with the names of those that died kept expanding like St. Raymond’s cemetery. It started with my father, cancer from that liquor thirst, then murder of men that was with me on the block tryn to make the everyday flow feel like the first. Yes, I do have lots of memories and I have a vivid imagination, but I would love to see them with my two physicals like back then, instead of third eye visions. My dad would be the first I’ll run to, then I would literally go insane tryn to figure out who’ll be the next I run to. the line up is long, that, terrible, I’ll put my arm around him, he’ll put his arm around him, we’ll all hug each other like we did in tuff touch football huddles. They’ll be a feast with entire families and friends because I know they all would want to break bread with kin again. It’ll be an all out celebration, fun, laughter and joyful conversations. I’ll step back and soak it all in, I’ll be looking at stars, my angelic constellation. I’ll have a photographer to snap pits and short yids of my king and my sand box brothers to last me for the rest of my forever, when the last time to see them is over.
Infinite the poet 2018
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