Information on my Book!

To check out the BOOK TRAILER:

For more information on my book CHECK OUT:

Also if you’d like to read the first few pages, head over to 


Hey Everyone! I am a 20 year old author from New Haven! My first book just came out and i am excited to share the beginning with you. If it seems like something you’d maybe like please head over to The City Breaks its Promise and check it out! 

“She would always leave now and then, but I knew that this time was different. I could tell by the way she left that she wouldn’t be coming back. Without a goodbye and after a fight, my sister had left the house. She left without any clothes or belongings. She was always impulsive like that, but the fact she didn’t even bring a purse made me think this was only temporary. I didn’t want her to leave but there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her. I was scared, I sat up in my bed and looked outside my window hoping I’d see her walking up the street but she never did. I stayed like that for half of the night until I finally conceded that she wasn’t showing up anytime soon. 
I got about three hours sleep that night and woke up bright and early to the sound of my obnoxiously loud alarm clock. After I slapped the piece of shit across the room I bit my lip for a couple of minutes. After I drew blood I walked to the bathroom feeling the hangover of the rough night taking its toll on me emotionally and physically. My sister and I had argued all that night, for hours and hours about redundant bullshit. My stomach felt contaminated as I looked at myself in the mirror, my wavy hair matted and unruly. I was overreacting as usual to my sister’s rebellion, she was a grown woman and had her own life, but I had reason for my fear. 
My baby sister was my life growing up. I took care of her when nobody took care of me. I felt like I was her guardian and that I was meant to protect her through life. I had a bond with her that nobody else could have. Throughout trauma and the violence, we stuck together. We held hands, but after a while our grasp became much lighter. Sephrina and I were dealt a bad hand when it came to life. We grew up in Hunts Point South Bronx in a crack den. Essentially we were raised on the streets by the streets. I knew every scam, every scheme, every hoodlum, every trick and the one after that. All the games people played I had to take seriously in order to survive. I became so good that I made it my living; I joined up with my uncle in his South Bronx crime ring. I was teaching the old timers tricks, like how to make five dollars into three meals for the day. 
I was able to take us out of the chaos, but it was a little late for Sephrina. She had already been hurt, torn apart so many times when I wasn’t there. She didn’t blame me, her gentle heart never could but I blamed myself because I was supposed to protect her. I was furious all the time, and the only place I was able to take it out was on the job. I was in reconstruction; I was a mid-level thug with job security and the best type of life insurance the streets could buy. Working with my uncle had a lot of positives. He basically allowed me to run wild. The violence I surrounded myself with was all an analogical way of fighting the frustration I had in my life. It was clear that when I swung my fist I was fighting more than just the person in front of me. I was fighting the past, the present, the future and reality all at once. 
I came to realize I could only fight but so much, and it hit me the hardest the day my sister left. I had hoped she would have tamed her habits. I had thought for some time that maybe the world would show us mercy, but then I got my final wake up call. I had fought plenty of abusive boyfriends and made my share of threats but all of that kept me in denial. I believed that I had enough power to somehow influence her and everyone around her. I didn’t and god must have been busy because he never showed himself around these parts.
Hunts Point scared me when I was younger. Once I grew up I adjusted to it. Sephrina and I were basically abandoned so young we had to take on adult tasks before we were teenagers or else we wouldn’t have survived. We wouldn’t eat if we didn’t make the money. We dodged the government and survived in the cold hard world of facts. 
We hung out around the red light district at night to help guide tricks, assist the whores and make extra money. During the day we would go and sell candy bars on the subway, help at the chop shops, sell some weed and often we’d assist the drug dealers by guiding customers in abundance.
We had a little apartment where we’d hear some girl getting beaten half to death almost every night by her pimp and I’d hold my sister as she cried. There were about seven kids and some crack heads, drifters and bums crashing there all the time. On my sister’s birthday I was able to scrap together enough money to get her a cake and a few presents. The little party was going well. It wasn’t until about ten at night when we heard a gunshot. The woman killed her pimp and the first thought in my head was that the police were going to find us and put us into foster care. 
We packed up our stuff but it was too late, as the police came and started asking us where our parents were. I lied a few times and then tried to run away. It was a futile effort and the saddest day of my life. They didn’t split up my sister and I, instead the stuck us both in a brutal residential full of fucking nuts, kids who were already rapist, schizophrenics and raging mental cases. After about a year of that we got sent to foster care. 
It was a bleak life to live, and when I say I took us out I meant we moved farther away from the Point. The problem was still it wasn’t far enough from the chaos. I don’t know if I could have ever gotten far enough away especially on days when I was so alone. Then on the other hand, I began to feed off the violence surrounding me. My world was a time ticking bomb. 
When we grew up South Bronx was in bad shape. There were still apartments that were a sickness, terrifying and unadulterated. Crack heads with families piled into the apartments like the rent was free; somehow they found a way to pay up. The land lords never fucked around, we almost got kicked out for missing one month. My mother was a whore and my father was a failed pimp, both were crack heads. Together it took them three hours to put in a light bulb. 
So I had to find ways to pay the rent. In the beginning I tried to help my mother by rationing money and trying to help her kick her addiction, but over time my blood became cold and I lost all hope for her. I adopted the gun at that point, and after that it was a free for all. If she tried to take the money I made that day, she would face my gun. And if you didn’t stop there, I’d beat my own mother in order to save enough for my sister and me. She never had our best interest in mind. The kids of crack town didn’t play games. We’d all talk about how we were going to grow up into responsible adults who would live functional lives. Part of us all knew that was a joke. 
We would pickpocket in the City, sometimes we’d beg or sometimes steal street performer’s cash. Sometimes we’d even steal cars that were parked and drive them to the back of chop shop. One of the legal things we would do would be to wash cars and walk dogs for the old folks in the town. Those same old people would be trading their pain meds for Viagra, money and weed. 
We’d always do everything to try to find an angle to make a little bit of profit each time. That was the objective, profit no matter how small. We’d get together at night and have meal time in one of our barren apartments and fix dinner for each other. Each night that I had my sister in my sights was a good night. This was before she knew any better, it was after all the abuse but she didn’t know what was happening to her delicate body. I didn’t know what happened to mine either. 
My name was Tobick because apparently my mom’s family wouldn’t allow her baby to ever take someone else’s surname. They must have been glad that rule was in place because when my mom got pregnant at fifteen the father was some older crack head named John Manikos, my father. My mom became an outcast from her orthodox German Family after they found out she tried to have arrange an abortion. 
My Uncle Karol was my mother’s brother. He was one of the craziest bastards I’ve ever met in my life. I personally didn’t think I was anything like him. Somehow his family was very strict and incredibly orthodox, but he became a teenage Hit-Man for an German Crime outfit. Now he was the boss of Hunt’s Point, and a very valuable ally to have. I worked for him, as his trusted employee who watched over everyone else. It was mind blowing sometimes, the shit that happened around me. What I grew up around seemed like nothing to what I saw working with Uncle Karol. It was training in a lot of ways. 
I had to watch over the people and the rackets. I had to watch over everything from the drugs, the gambling, the prostitution, the sales of firearms and even real estate. He was rich, and he tried to make as much legit money as possible. He owned a construction company, a few liquor stores, two car dealerships as well as a bunch of bars and clubs. My official “job” was in construction even though I had only worked a few hours in my life.
The day after Sephrina left, I was supposed to be overseeing a drug deal but instead I called out. I had to figure things out as soon as possible because I was in frenzy. I left the house early even though I spent at least an hour staring at the wall. But once I snapped out of my trance, I was able to get out of the house. I decided my first stop would be to see an old friend who knew everything that went down in Hunt’s Point. 
Cardinal, was a drug addict and a loyal customer and was also the unofficial overseer of the city. If he didn’t know something, he knew someone who did. It was amazing, especially since he spent so much time in his room shooting up. I remembered when he was clean and a decent member of society. The one thing that attracted my friendship to Cardinal was he always respected my sister and he showed respect to me. 
When we first became friends I was a shaky sickly boy of fifteen years. We met the day after my Uncle picked us up from Foster Care. My uncle started me young dealing drugs and my first deal was to Cardinal, who was my age. He mostly just smoked weed and did some coke at that time. So I got to know him through all the deliveries I made for him. He lived in a posh apartment in Manhattan so it wasn’t to long of a long voyage. He would tip me a couple hundred dollars and sometimes I’d even smoke with him. 
Cardinal got his name due to his fiery red hair. He was the classic redhead with very pale skin and freckles. He was skinny and tall since I knew him years ago, and he grew to tower over me. His family was very religious and Cardinal was sacrilegious so it wasn’t working out. They beat him for swearing and he had to study the bible for four hours a night after homework. He couldn’t take it anymore and I didn’t blame him, so he escaped their grasp during high school and we moved into an apartment together. As I said before, Cardinal and I had a long history. 
Even years later he only lived a few blocks away from my house, and it took me about ten minutes to trek down there. The apartment building was a little run down, but the rent was cheap. For the most part I paid the rent and every other expense Cardinal had, the landlord could care less where the money came from as long as he got it. It was that guilt thing again that got me, plus if I didn’t pay the rent Cardinal would be on the street. 
I didn’t do him many favors. Basically all I did was feed his habit. I was a conflicted enabler. I knew that I wasn’t in to deep at that point, but that I had to rescue myself I got caught or killed. 
The cold air hit me hard that morning when I left my apartment. I put my hood over my head to prepare for the walk. I decided to check my waistband holster, which held my stainless Remington R1. After I fixed my shirt to hide the gun I noticed a group of bums across the street walking. It was Harris, Morten and Tommy. They probably just left the homeless shelter and were on their way toward the liquor store. I saw Melissa pushing her baby carriage across the street. They were both bundled up. I waved to her but she didn’t see me. She lived on the second floor of the house I lived in. 
I had purchased my house four years ago with all the legitimate money that I had. It only cost a couple hundred thousand and I paid the mortgage just like any other normal person. It was a three family home and I lived on the first floor. I collected rent, installed central air and made sure that everything was taken care of. I had become friends with everyone that lived in the house with me. They always heard my brutal arguments with my sister, they heard the time I pushed her onto the ground and when I destroyed our glass coffee table. They heard all of my regret. 
I thought about my sister more as I walked through the streets. I felt so tired because I hadn’t gotten any sleep, I felt sick because of the combination of everything. I had a headache and a few cars passed blasting music which didn’t exactly help. There were a group of bums with big padded coats walking across the street. A few kids were riding bikes and in the corner by a garbage can a fiend was shooting up. 
I laughed as I walked up into the apartment building. I skipped up stairs as quickly as I could towards his third floor apartment. Once I was on the third floor I cut in and went to the first door on the right. I banged on it loudly to make sure he could hear it. Knowing Cardinal he was probably sitting there with his eyes red after an all-nighter. 
“Cardinal its Spiro, let me in,” I said as I heard a door unlock and open. A woman was leaning out of her apartment, she glared at me viciously. 
“Why are you hitting the door so god damn loud!” she snapped. 
“Fuck off,” I growled. I matched her glare, I outdid it actually. She looked at me and then closed the door. The message must have registered with her. Then I turned my attention back to Cardinal who was in the doorway laughing. He was only wearing some tight briefs which offered a pale view. “Why don’t you put some god damn clothes on kid?” 
“This is my house, don’t nobody tell me what’s good in here. You know that my dude,” said Cardinal as we shook hands. He led me into his apartment. He stopped for a second and turned around to look at me with his hands in his underwear. “Why you here so early, dude. Yo I got to tell you dude I had a crazy night. First I fucked this crack whore on the couch so I was like, and I thought wow, like this is gonna be a great night.” 
“What does this have to do with me?” I asked. 
“She gets me off and all I can remember is her undoing the belt on my arm right? But then I woke up a little later and I find that all my gear was gone. She took everything, all the pills too. I couldn’t believe it, I’m sorry but that was out of my hands ya know,” said Cardinal pinching his nose and sniffling. His body was covered in sweat and it smelled straight like body odor. 
People like Cardinal often irritated me, they wanted to be part of the drug culture so bad but when they get to deep they’d retreat and expect someone else to come and rescue them. It bothered me, but I tried not to allow it to affect unhealthy friendship we had. 
“Listen, go and take a shower man. Please you smell awful,” I said with my head down examining the disgusting apartment. Cardinal nodded his head and walked over to a mound of clothes. He grabbed a towel, a pair of underwear, a shirt and pants. I could tell he had been going crazy that night, most likely smoking coolies. That story of his was bullshit, the reason he made it up was because three days ago I had given him some Ecstasy pills to hold on to. Sephrina was around and I had to find a place to hide it so she wouldn’t sell them for dope. Cardinal had a tendency to fuck up and I basically ruled out those pills anyway. My hunches were usually right with him, and this one was that he had freebased a lot of cocaine and then decided to take a few of the pills after he sold the rest to his friend Ike. I sat there thinking about it and decided to look around for stuff. It didn’t take my long into my search to find a watch, so I took it and pocketed it. 
His apartment was very small for one thing, and there was trash almost everywhere. He had a small kitchen area in the front, while there was a miniature table on one side which had Chinese food containers, pizza boxes, needles, condoms and a knife on it. On the opposite side of the narrow kitchen space was the counters and the stove, which had all other types of miscellaneous shit all over. Following the horrid kitchen was the Bedroom and living room area that had a glass coffee table and a bed. That was it for the apartment, beside a small bathroom
I heard the door open and Cardinal came out the bathroom rapping “Started from the Bottom” obnoxiously while drying off.
“You want a line?” asked Cardinal basically naked beside the little towel. 
“No I don’t want a line, listen to me…Listen to me god damn it! Put the fuckin mirror down and listen to me!” I hissed. He put everything down and looked up at me with concerned eyes. “My sister left again last night and this time I know something bad is going to happen if it hasn’t already happened by now. It’s been a almost a day man.” 
“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” said Cardinal shaking his head while sliding on his cargo pants and a black t-shirt. Few moments later he came over to give me a hug and I laughed as we embraced. It was a short hug because I kind of pushed away eventually as hugs weren’t something that I enjoyed. He walked back over to his couch and put on socks before grabbing a pair of yellow Nike Hyperdunks. 
“Yeah, so I came over here to see what you’ve heard,” I said with my arms on my hips and a grim expression on my face. He looked at me with a weird expression and I knew what he was thinking. “Don’t insult me like that man, you know I came over here to give you your shit. So don’t insult me by looking that way holding out on me. Do you understand me?” 
“You know I would tell you everything I knew, I just wanted to ask if you could help me get through?” he pled. 
“You know I will, don’t I always man. Here take everything I’ve got,” I said throwing him a package which was in my sweatshirt pocket. It had about five grams of Cocaine, some oxycodone, ecstasy and a balloon of mud tucked inside. 
Cardinal was a dumpster fiend, a cabbage head or a trash can addict. He didn’t care what he was getting high off of, he just wanted to get high no matter if it was glue, Ether and in his worst of times snorting Lunesta. Most of the stuff I’d give him, I wouldn’t give him Ether or glue, but the other stuff I’d supply. As I said before I felt guilty, but I didn’t want him robbing old woman because he would. Plus I gave myself reassurance on a business level by keeping in mind that he gave me a lot of information on the streets, so I justified everything by saying I was paying him. He was my friend, he used to be my best friend but I worried that I was losing more than just my mind.” 




Welcome to Hunts Point, New York City. They called it the Point, a small neighborhood in the South Bronx. Known for its red lights district, violence and poverty, Hunt’s Point is a tough place to survive. 
Spiro Tobick and his sister Sephrina were born during the crack epidemic to two homeless addicts. Eventually addiction took its toll on them and after their parents disappeared Spiro was forced to take responsibility before he was even thirteen.
The streets were no match for Spiro’s desire and ambitions to allow his sister to be as comfortable as possible. He sold candy on the subway, stole from stores and sold weed during the day and then cleaned up chop shops, ran errands for prostitutes and worked in trap houses at night. 
Spiro did all he could to protect his sister, but eventually they were caught and sent through Foster Care. After years of being tortured by their Foster Father and ravaged by the system their cries are heard and their Uncle adopts them. 
Ten years later, tension reaches its peak in the relationship between Spiro and Sephrina and she departs on a Heroin binge. Worried sick, Spiro accepts a deadly task from his Uncle who is the boss of Hunts Point’s major crime syndicate. Spiro realizes this would advance his request to get a job in Manhattan away from Hunts Point. Spiro tries aimlessly to get away but the past wouldn’t let him go. 
With a heart simmering with guilt and memories of a painful past, Spiro searches for answers and his sister, finding so much more in the process. With so much to lose, will Spiro balance his life without losing himself? Will he fall to deep in the process? Or will Sephrina become yet another victim of the promises of the city?

Share this:

Book Trailer is Out!

Welcome to Hunts Point, New York City. They called it the Point, a small neighborhood in the South Bronx. Known for its red lights district, violence and poverty, Hunt’s Point is a tough place to survive.
Spiro Tobick and his sister Sephrina were born during the crack epidemic to two homeless addicts. Eventually addiction took its toll on them and after their parents disappeared Spiro was forced to take responsibility before he was even thirteen.
The streets were no match for Spiro’s desire and ambitions to allow his sister to be as comfortable as possible. He sold candy on the subway, stole from stores and sold weed during the day and then cleaned up chop shops, ran errands for prostitutes and worked in trap houses at night.
Spiro did all he could to protect his sister, but eventually they were caught and sent through Foster Care. After years of being tortured by their Foster Father and ravaged by the system their cries are heard and their Uncle adopts them.
Ten years later, tension reaches its peak in the relationship between Spiro and Sephrina and she departs on a Heroin binge. Worried sick, Spiro accepts a deadly task from his Uncle who is the boss of Hunts Point’s major crime syndicate. Spiro realizes this would advance his request to get a job in Manhattan away from Hunts Point. Spiro tries aimlessly to get away but the past wouldn’t let him go.
With a heart simmering with guilt and memories of a painful past, Spiro searches for answers and his sister, finding so much more in the process. With so much to lose, will Spiro balance his life without losing himself? Will he fall to deep in the process? Or will Sephrina become yet another victim of the promises of the city?

More Info on my Book (Feb. 14)

Hey everyone, please head over to my book’s official Facebook page It’s easier to get all the information on that page rather then spread it out so thinly! I will be much more active on Warmonger once The City Breaks It’s Promise is released. Sorry for advertising, but i’m trying to get as much information as possible on here! 

Moses (Short Story)

    It was a cold night in New Haven but for Moses it wasn’t so bad. He had been homeless for about five years, during the day walking around Yale and searching trashcans of expensive restaurants. He would sometimes sit and play his guitar and sing. That was his main source of income, people loved to listen to him play and sing. They would drop him five dollar bills or tens, they would give him food and other random articles of clothing. He wasn’t drinking or doing any drugs, so they treated him different. Sometimes Yale students would talk to him and call him an urban legend.

            He had been since he got on the streets, he had saved numerous people from being robbed and had always been as a form of a superhero. There was a time when a woman was being raped in a dark nasty alley near the old bar that shut down on the outskirts of Downtown. Moses came to the woman’s rescue, beating the man mercilessly and then waiting until the cops came before disappearing. He didn’t want any notoriety, nobody call him a hero. That’s not what he was as he roamed the dark airy night streets of New Haven. He was a monster.

            Some nights he’d walk by the old liquor stores that he used to practically live in. He recalled those days so bitterly, him in a three piece suit laughing with the other drunk “Bastards.” Moses had the idea that there was some reason that he would exempt from being punished by the cruel world. His name was biblical and he was brought up believe and praise all those things he was told. It was a cushion in his life, one that at time threw him off guard.

            Moses would usually sit down on a seat that was left out on the orchard street “Strip” across from all the pizzerias and restaurants. Some nights he’d simply drift around thinking about the past that wouldn’t let him go. The real problem was that he didn’t understand anything about his life but he understood the world around him. It was the only place that he felt at all human. Being in a house caged in wasn’t what was meant for him. His activities and lifestyle led to what was left of his friends and family calling him an animal. Maybe that’s what he was? A true human being, he was the animal that rejected all the corporate synthesizing that allowed overindulgence, greed and eventually their untimely demise.

            Moses had spent all that time alone, moseying around and the only thing that kept him company was his cat Jonas. Jonas lived behind his campsite, which was on State Street right in between the ramp to the highway and the thrift shop. Moses had called that home for almost all the years that he had lived on the street. He had it set up nice and the cops didn’t mess with it because they knew that he kept it clean and did well by the city.

            That night on a random note he had decided to walk up to Scrap Yard in Mill River and see if he could find any scrap metal from the dealer that would open up for the bums. It was the ultimate place for barterers, bums and bargainers who were up at two in the morning. Moses had his cart prepared and it had a small radio with some earphones hooked up in the carriage. He was listening to 70s Hard Rock and experimenting with some Pop hits while he walked past the Mobile Gas station.

            The traffic was scarce to say the least, and Moses took advantage of that walking much faster than normal. He even started to get into the music, so he brushed his long gray hair back so that the earphones he found in the garbage would fit better. He had a couple of other pairs in the pocket of his trench coat that he also found in the garbage. Moses was a man of simple pleasures, flashiness didn’t matter to him. As long as something worked it was valuable to him, he had even gone to the point of being a borderline hoarder. He didn’t mind, Moses believed in the value of true life.

            So as he walked up upon the dimly lit dead end that was known as Mill River Street. There were three large multifamily houses on each side of the road, and on the left side there was a lot for the abandoned company Max Supplies. It had been gone for years, but no one bought the building nor did anything for the lot. Across the way from Mill River Street there was a bar called Hanson’s known for its fights, underage drinking and promiscuity. Moses had heard of three dead bodies on Mill River Street in the past year but the numbers were more around eight.

            “Look there is Clark Kent, my man!” howled one of the men standing outside the vacant lot. He was staggering with a bottle in his hand, he seemed to be drunk. Moses received the name Clark Kent when a group caught him reading a superman comic book. It was something he had only done a few times, as he had never been a fan of comics, animation or anything of the sort. He accepted the Clark Kent nickname because he didn’t want anyone to know his real name, Moses Floyd. It was a name that was known through New Haven and even Connecticut, a name known of evil and a wretched existence. It was something he didn’t want to live with, so instead he was simply Moses or on some occasions Clark Kent.

            “Did I miss anything?” asked Moses as the man shook his head and took a swig from the bottle.

            “Nah you didn’t miss a damn thing, half the folks ain’t even down here yet. Come and get a bottle, oh that’s right you don’t drink ain’t that right boy!” yelled the same man whom Moses finally identified as Static. Static always forgot that Moses didn’t drink, and Static was one of the few people who knew who Moses was. He didn’t say anything out of respect. Despite his drunken state, he always remembered to never talk about Moses’s past.

            “Now you know I don’t drink,” muttered Moses laughing for the first time all day as he pushed his cart over and shook Static’s hand. “When are these people getting here?”

            “I have no clue but they run the show, we are just two bums waiting for the curtains to come up. How has your day been otherwise there? Gone to any telephone booths?” asked Static cracking up into laughter. Moses looked at his eyes which were bloodshot as he barely had a grip on the bottle he held.

            “Stop being so loud, someone will call the police on us,” said Moses whisking his friend over to the entrance of the warehouse which was open. “Why are you out here, it’s so cold!”

            “Typical guy, it ain’t cold when you got this much liquor in your gut. Man I could basically die right here and now, but nobody would care. My family is sleep at home, finally getting a good night sleep because I’m out here half dead. They wonder why you would have to go out there?” said the Static with his eyes and tears running down his cheek.

            “Ok static let it out,” said Moses patting Static’s shoulder. There was a time when he wasn’t as level headed and was seeking guidance and couldn’t find it at the hall of an Alcohol Anonymous meeting. When he was wandering the dark wet streets with a bottle, belligerent and angry, there was no hand to be placed on someone’s shoulder. It didn’t make him feel any better about himself, but part of Moses believed if he kept doing the good deeds his demise would be less painful.

            “I said them last night crying, on one knee, I said listen I love you both babies. But I have to go out and make money for the kid, I can’t just lie down next to your fat ass all fucking day and watch Steve Wilkos!” screamed Static. Moses grabbed Static’s arm and brought him into the warehouse. Sometimes the cops would be called and then nobody would make any money. Moses knew he had to pick up some metal and he had just enough money to fit into his cart.

            So he walked into the warehouse next to static and was greeted with an arousing applause. Everyone loved Moses except for Moses, as he seemed like the guy other guys wanted to be. He didn’t have good looks, it was more of a moral thing. Few beside Static, Moses’s daughter, wife and a few family members knew of the horrid secret he was hiding. Few thought it had any validity, so Moses was forced to exile himself in punishment rather than allowing himself to live a comfortable life after wrongdoing.

            “Yo Moses, bring any bread today brother!” asked Lucky Louie, a fat Italian bum who always loved the bread that Moses would find. One day Moses and Louie were walking around Fair Haven when they gave out bread at Gianni’s, a upcoming restaurant around the way. Moses and Louie spread the word, and ever since were paid in bread and sometimes cash to clean the store. Most of the time their appearance was rugged and unappetizing, each sporting large unwelcoming beards and heavy coats for the winter chill.

            “Moses you’re probably the poorest motherfucker here, on account of the fact you don’t get disability so I’m going to give you the best piece for today,” said Carmine, the owner of the racket. Two of his guys Luca and Mickey set the scrap metal into his cart. Often Carmine didn’t charge, he let some of the merchandise go in return for certain favors that he would call upon quite often. He had a set of bums, Moses, Louie, Connolly, Samson and Maxwell. This was it wasn’t charity, and the bums were loyal and would hear about anything on the street immediately after it hit the pavement. Carmine saw it as an ample investment.

            “Horse shit!” howled Maxwell who was in the corner smoking a joint. He was laughing as he said it, Moses became worried once he heard that he’d have to fight another bum but it was different then on the internet. For the most part they all worked together, it was the drugs and the drink that brought them apart.

            “Yo Moses, I keep telling you each time you bring your ass in here to fill out that paperwork. I got this great doctor, excuse me Max but he is this nigger from Philadelphia. Ya know, where I grew up? His pops gave me work so I kind of do the same, but he became a doctor. Much smarter then I could have been,” said Carmine with his hands on his stomach.

            “You can say that again,” grumbled Moses.

            “Hey fuck you! I’m sitting her busting my ass trying to get you some extra cheese and here you are hogging the prosciutto. You rat fuck you, don’t look at me like that!” howled Carmine. He had an abrasive way to him, constantly looked angry and at risk to blow your head off. If you weren’t hardnosed, tough or just naturally insane it was hard to handle him. Luckily Moses was a mixture of all three.

            “You just mad because the brother probably stole your bitches, and the money out that motherfucker,” said Maxwell with a high laugh. Nobody else found it very amusing. Maxwell got a handshake from Samson who had shared a few hits from the joint but that was it.

            “Hey! Hey, what did I tell you?” yelled Carmine pointing at Maxwell, who grabbed a container of air freshener and sprayed it everywhere. “You can smoke that cheap shit here but you better spray every three minutes, not just when I tell you. Spray! Come on, spray the fucking can it’s new so give it some juice,” ordered Carmine with his eyes flaring up.

            “You want to me come down with you Moses, make sure nobody robs you on your way?” asked Mickey with a reassuring smile. Moses shook his head and then turned the cart around.

            “Hey! Remember I get ten percent of that cut, that’s the deal every first of the week when I call you guys in here that’s what I get. You can’t have the salami and also get the smoked prosciutto,” insisted Carmine shaking his head. Moses nodded his head and gave a somber wave goodbye as he left the warehouse with his shopping cart. He only had about two or three pounds of scrap metal but it would be enough to get him through the day. Most would be crazy to go through New Haven in the middle of the night with a couple dollars of Scrap Metal, but Moses was well known through the order. At least through the parts he was going. He only had to walk about ten minutes to get to his apartment which was a couple of blocks off the Worthington Plainview Park.

            As Moses left uneventfully he started to feel something in his stomach. He needed to go to the bathroom after only being able to in the Mobile Gas Station. As he walked along the bridge he felt lights which were burning up his insides. As he started to feel sick he reminisced on the days when he had a functioning toilet and bathroom as a kid. He missed those days and realized he would do anything to get back there, but he started to beat himself up for doing all the wrong things to travel the opposite way.

            It took Moses a couple minutes and to be only two miles from his house to realize he had heat on him. He farted and burped when the sirens flashed on, literally scaring the shit out of him. He raised his hands as he heard shouts and hollering behind him, he knew the routine as they brought him up against the car and smashed his head on the hood. As he heard all the police procedure he realized that it was just another day to Live and Die in New Haven.

Reviewed the designs for the book!

I have reviewed the entire book, the font and everything is great. It is 120 pages long, so thats good. I have my name on the spine that means. WOOT I’m excited, and the book will cost $10.10! Trafford Publishing, very happy! Please please if you are reading this, head over to and “Like” it if you have a Facebook. I will not look at any personal information, please more then anything, think about buying this book. I am 19 going on 20 in less then twenty days, and i have the humble desire to entertain you with a story. I will be releasing as much as i can between now and then to keep you guys interested. Thanks so much!Imagew bo

Please Check out Official Fan Page for the Book!

Here is the link to my book’s official fan page. The book should be out on February 14th in paperback and e-book format and i’m trying to build up anticipation and support. I’m a 19 year old author from New Haven, and this is my first book. I need your support and i hope i can maybe win you over to purchase the book! More information will come soon, and you’ll be able to find it all on this official Facebook page!

Head over to the Facebook page and “LIKE!”

Please head over to the facebook page for my first book, i’m trying to get as many people on there as possible. This is still the destination to stay in tune with my poetry and writing, but this page is for the book. Book trailer out soon too!

February 14th My Book Will be On Shelves!!

More information on the availability soon. There will be a page up, the book will be cheap and i’d love for some of you guys to check it out. There will be a long preview once things are finalized! I’m starting to scare myself with this thing, but i’m extremely confident you guys will like the book!