I'm waiting on something.
I wish I knew what. A sign, I suppose. The Car, for sure. I'm waiting for that mine couldn't make it that far.
I considered burning down or selling the house, but I decided I'd leave it standing. There are far too many memories in that building to just burn it and it would be nice to have something to fall back on
I had hoped to make this post about something important, something that I could share
But I realized I have very little but the past
We were nineteen. All of us were, I mean. It had been a year since Maurice had decided that he would not go on to college. Maurice had a plan. He bought a car, and an apartment in New York, and the three of us fled in the night for the city. We settled in to our squalorous apartment. This was back in the early nineties, And Maurice told us Chelsea was the place to be in New York. We settles in, and as time went by we found jobs and worked and looked for our chances.
But the never came
The other night I was walking down the street and I saw a young man being beaten by two men in masks. They were laughing the sort of laughter that stops just short of a man's belly, the sort of laugh you only hear from the dead and the broken. The boy was sobbing he was the boy I gave the money to I saw when they ripped his hood up and kicked into his face.
But I could do nothing
im so weak