From the dust we came, and to the dust we must return. It is one of those rare absolutes in life. And even then, we hold on. Hold dear those things, breathless, the stink of death still fresh. Hunched and weary, one corpse gives way to make space for another and another and another. Granfalloon is now real. It isn't the weight of the world we hold, it's an ounce of insecurity, a few pounds of hurt feelings and tons of anger. Ferrying the festering, putrid corpses of what was and what is. We become lifelong pallbearers, handling bodies both with pride and kid gloves. Our spirits disfigured almost beyond recognition.
Why do we long suffer? Force feeding ourselves would-ofs and could-ofs by the forkful, putting the repass before the wake. Nurtured bodies just vessels for emaciated souls.
Plain language usually is best. Not that the above isn't plain, but what the fuck am I talking about? I'm sure you could figure it out, but let me make it plain and simple, crystal clear, cut and dry etc. etc.
I'm dealing with an immense amount of animosity and unanswered questions. Hell, at this point the questions have already been answered. Meanwhile, I lay comfortably under this bus with a B.L.T. as you cried your crocodile victim tears. You compromised my name, you attempted (and failed) to sabotage my relationship, oh then there's the tiny issue of pretending you don't owe me dough. These are serious accusations...you know what the worst part about it is?
I did absolutely nothing about it...Silly me for thinking I someone you considered a brother would do the right thing. Where was my fucking head? Give you time to decompress and come to your senses and fix what was broken? Nigga please! You made more effort to "ki ki ki" it up online than to fix the issue.
There was a time where I would think about what transpired, and I would instantly become furious. Whether your actions or my inaction was the cause didn't matter. What mattered is I changed for the worse. Became what a handful of people perceived me to be thanks to your spin. This isn't me airing out dirty laundry, Lord knows I have plenty, but me taking that laundry and cutting it into rags to wash my car.
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