† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

So my niece is going through her college experience and me being being a drunk uncle I kind of wanted a piece of that pie, not to bother but to remind myself of why I could have been a full time time student till I died. Well I had to learn life shit, so yeah that is that. It’s a “write about this” piece and I laugh in loud silence… She chooses the term death.. or word. Well I saw it as term but I think the profe said word. My brain thought, easy peasy, just rand and make it like a fucken thousand words. Life is never easy, it’s not like Ella’s Choosin’ Texas song. You’re all bad ass until you deal with the repercussions of little things like hometowns, feelings, family, and maybe some repressed emotions.

Life is for the weak, not for the ones who are already dead!!! I know, techincalities. But come on brethen, we all know what life is to us? What is life but not a bunch of good memories, bad ones, and a fucken shit tone of fuckerie, and politics. Oh boy, lawyers and politics eat away a tone of our existence.

Me, I had many close encounters so it’s not some grim dark shadow figure showing up to my birthday telling me it’s time to pack up and go. It’s the fucken grime, the shit I already eat. Like how the fuck does one package that notion when you don’t know if you live tomorrow? Eat shit and let me live, or let me die in memory. It’s not like everyone knows what happens next, like who fucken chooses if it’s religious or nothingness, like mayb it’s a black hole of my experience? Maybe it’s the dynamic, or the writting in the invisible wall? Who fucken tells you what death is? Oh yeah, some old ass philosophers who had all the time in the world to say, death is this.

But did you ever ask death itself what it was? I bet not, but then again I was making an assumpting death was a thing. Maybe it were the double dippled buffalo wings and shit. Who knows, I know… but do you ?

But let’s talk about the reliaty of it, what does death mean to me? Ya’ll know I have gone through some shit. Like, the mamalona trying to run me over and getting MRSA from the hospi, to just laying there months in a fucken bed to get sucked out like a piece of cheese… because I got a blot clot that almost clogged my main artery… Shit, the more I think about it the more I laugh instead of cry about it. Life said, here bitch, and I was like yo this is all you got? come at me bruh!!!!

Okay, maybe I am exagerating because it reality it was scary thinking youre life is coming to and end, and I wasn’t scared just for myself, I had loved ones in mind. I was thinking of my jefitos, my fam, the nephews and nieces. It was like a collaboration of thought, a whole fucking activism of what happens if I close the blinds for good? So yeah, I would have ended up like a fucken ghost just working for free. Fuck that.

I make a big ass scene like life revolves around me, like death is a thing only I expect and that’s what gets me. We all gonna go through it, so when those loved ones who left and never reached back, that’s what this meant. It wasn’t fear, lothing, loving or whaterver shit. It is the akknowledgement that every thing means nothing and everything at the same time. Life’s ultimate paradox.. your fucken life and your own fucken decisions.