To Live and Die in New Haven: Remy

Remy Santana 

 

January 6th

 

            “Look at this fucking guy Rem, I’m telling you I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. The man is a pederast, if you don’t believe me and do something about it I will,” said Ricardo fidgeting in his seat. Remy started grinding his teeth looking at Jonathan, one of the workers at his grandmother’s retirement home.

            “I don’t like this place man, it’s creepy as fuck,” said Hanley. Ricardo, Remy and Hanley had each sniffed a several lines of cocaine before they had gone into the New Haven “Jewish Home”. They were all being loud, covered in a dense layer of sweat and in Hanley’s case he had some cocaine on his nostril.

            “You got a little something there, nah right there bro,” said Ricardo pointing to Hanley’s nostril. He nodded his head, wiped his nose with his finger and shot the little particles up his nose. Ricardo rolled his eyes while Remy had his fixated on Jonathan. He had on high pants, he wore Velcro shoes and he had a comb over. His smile and voice reached beyond the limits of bizarre, and his demeanor suggested what Ricardo was saying had to be absolutely true. The drugs persuaded Remy to believe there was no other plausible explanation for this man to be working in a convalescent home. Remy wanted to take this man, whip out his gun and break his teeth with it. All this made sense when you were to that high.

            Remy kept a steady glare on Jonathan as his Grandmother finally walked in. She waved over to him as the three of them stood up. Ricardo and Hanley worked for Remy for three years and they had grown to know his grandmother Ana Marie as if she was their own. That was the way she was, especially when she was well. Remy had watched his grandmother’s health decline quickly. The timeline was fairly cohesive with the extension of his drug use.

            “Hi grandma,” said Remy walking over to greet his grandmother. She smiled and he kissed her on the cheek. He wasn’t sure if she even knew who he was at that point, over time she had started to call him Carlo. Carlo was Remy’s dead brother who had been gone for about five years. He was gunned down by rival gang members near the Methadone clinic on East Street. He never visited his grandmother, who raised Remy and Carlo after their mother overdosed. It was a bleak life, one that made it feel natural to do wrong.

            “Yes, yeah, it is that way. You know? Yeah that’s it,” muttered Ana Marie Santana looking at her grandson. She smiled a little but then looked clueless again which made Remy sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes and looked down at the ground as Ricardo and Hanley helped Ana Marie into her chair.

            “How have you been Grandma? Did they give back your teeth?” asked Remy grabbing his grandmother’s cold hand. He rubbed it with his finger as she looked up at him and smiled again. She nodded her head but stayed silent.

            “Hello Ms. Santana, how are you. Do you remember the last time we were here, we did the Irish sing a long,” said Ricardo. Ana Marie turned her head and looked at him and smiled.

            “Yes Carlo, of course. Of course, yes, of course. And that’s daddy,” said Ana Marie. Remy sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

            “Where is my husband? Get me my husband now! Send him a message, tell him I’m ready to go home!” shouted Nancy, one of the other patients. They were all in the dining room as it was six pm and they usually would eat dinner around four in the afternoon. Remy and the crew purposely avoided dinner at all costs, due to the sight of his grandmother struggling to eat. While they ate there would be arguments, fights and beeping from the various gadgets beneath the residents that would go off when they would stand up.

            It was a gloomy environment that nobody wanted to be, and it was a constant reminder to Remy that he wasn’t living up to his grandmother’s spirit. At least he didn’t believe so, he knew deep down that if she was ok she would tell him to leave her alone and live his own life. Nevertheless Remy felt obligated to take care of his grandmother, and it killed him when he realized that even if he hustled relentlessly and used all his savings he’d only be able to afford a decent place for six months. The reason he was reluctant to do that, was because it would cripple Remy for the near future and he didn’t honestly believe he could do things any faster.

            “T-t-t-the b-b-baby, where is Carlo? C-c-c-ca-can you find it?” stuttered Ana Marie as she began to shake.

            “Should we call the nurse?” asked Hanley as Remy grasped her hand and dropped his head. He winced as he watched her in pain. He remembered the day that she told him if she ever got bad and stopped being able to function normally, to take her outside and shoot her.

            “Let’s call the nurse Rem, she isn’t well man. I’ll go get her,” said Ricardo standing up. Right after Ricardo walked away there was a loud scream that came from a different room.

            “Fuck this place scares me,” said Hanley shaking his head with an expression of disbelief. As Ana Marie kept stuttering, Remy brought her even closer to him. He had her face against his chest but she kept talking. Remy looked up to see the nurse coming over.

            “She sometimes refuses to take her meds, but if you all are here it might be easier to persuade her to take them. You are Remy?” asked the nurse to Ricardo.

            “No I’m Remy, these are my friends Hanley and Ricardo,” said Remy pinching his nose and then wiping it with the back of his hand. The nurse looked at him with an odd expression as he started to sniffle, but then turned around.

            “What’s she looking at?” asked Remy shrugging his shoulders. Ana Marie started to laugh obliviously as there was another scream in the other room. A few moments passed and then the Nurse returned carrying two cups, one considerably smaller than the other one.

            “Here she comes,” muttered Hanley as the nurse came back over smiling.

            “Ok Remy, could you help me with this. She hates taking pills,” said the Nurse to Remy quietly. She then turned to Ana Marie, who was sitting next to Remy. “Ok Ana Marie, are you having a nice visit with your grandson?”

            “Yes, v-v-v-very nice, yes,” stuttered Ana Marie.

            “Grandma,” said Remy.

            “Yes!” shouted Ana Marie suddenly becoming hostile. Remy sighed and scratched his neck. He pinched his nose and sniffled as the Nurse looked at him again with a suspicious gaze.

            “Grandma you have to take these pills now, please do it for me ok?” said Remy bluntly. Ana Marie nodded her head but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

            “Here is your meds sweetheart,” said the Nurse bending down and placing a few capsules into Ana Marie’s hand. She held them and didn’t put them in her mouth, so the nurse grabbed her hand and brought it up to her mouth. “Put them in your mouth. Ana Marie, put them in your mouth.”

            “Grandma, please take your medicine. Do what the nurse says,” said Remy putting his hand on his grandmother’s knee. She nodded her head and then put the capsules into her mouth.

            “Good job,” said the Nurse bringing her the other cup. The nurse was clearly surprised that Ana Marie actually took the cup and drank the water. “Great job Ana Marie, have a nice visit with your grandson.”

            “Y-y-yes, I will. Tell da-da-daddy ok?”

            The nurse walked away, so Hanley and Ricardo pulled their seats back over. Remy looked down at the ground for some time but lifted his head up when he remembered that there was a candy bar in the car. He had noticed that he stuttering and shaking had gone done, but she was still muttering nonsensical words that nobody could understand.

            “Yo, I’ll be right back. Grandma, I’ll be right back ok? I have a surprise for you,” said Remy bending down to kiss his grandmother on the forehead. He walked away from her, Hanley and Ricardo exiting dining room from the front. He walked through their little sitting room, past the nurse and then to the door. The door was locked as this was the Harbor, also known as the dementia and Alzheimer’s ward. Remy tried to remember the code to press, but was struggling. The nurse must have noticed and came over to push the numbers in.

            Remy thanked her, opened the door and watched it close behind him to make sure that no one left behind him. After the door closed he cruised through the long hallways completely zoning out. He passed lots of people and would nod to all of them, some not looking back. As he floated through the halls his vision started to become blurry and convoluted, his skin started to feel pasty. He began to crave drugs and knew that once he got back to the car he had to do a few lines.

            Remy became sick to his stomach after he passed patients who smelled viciously of urine and feces. Remy’s stomach turned after walking by one room that really smelled foul. After he had passed through that he walked into a room that had a large gazebo in it. A few patients were sitting with family at the couches and the tables. Remy started to walk a little faster as he began to crave the cocaine more and more. He finally got to the lobby to take a right and finally leave the building.

            Their car was parked in a handicap space because Remy hadn’t been sure if they were leaving that day to go out to eat and also because he was lazy. He pressed the button to unlock his Black Nissan GT-R and then opened the car door. He slid into the front seat but didn’t close the door. He looked back to see the bag full of candy bars and brought it up to the front. After that he looked around the car trying to remember where they put the cocaine. He then realized it was in the glove compartment. So he reached over and pulled the bag out. He looked around the parking lot and then turned back to the bag. He grabbed some with two fingers and then dropped some on the back of his hand below the knuckle. He pushed one nostril closed and then shot it up the other. He sat there and put his seat back and must have dozed off for a few minutes. He then awoke and decided to do some more. Just as he poured a line on his finger and went in to shoot it up his nose her heard someone calling his name.

            He flipped out and dropped the bag into his lap.

            “Remy, you there?” asked Hanley. Remy looked over to see Hanley walking out of the front door. Remy started punching on the steering wheel and basically growling as his friend walked over. “What’s wrong man?”

            “You scared the shit out of me man! Fuck man!” yelled Remy. Hanley walked up closer and opened the passenger seat.

            “Oh you fucking jackass, you spilled all the shit man! Come on, you’ve got to watch what you are doing!” exclaimed Hanley. They both stepped out of the car and started to clean up by dabbing the cocaine and then putting it on his gums. There actually wasn’t that much on the seat, not at all but everything that was ended up back in their nose or in their mouth.

            “Why did you come out here? Where is Ricardo?” asked Remy.

            “Oh that’s right I meant to tell you,” said Hanley rubbing his hands through his long black ponytail.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         “So we were sitting there right, and then your grandmother said something. Now we heard it, but she wouldn’t say it again for us but maybe she’ll say it for you?”

            “What did she say man, come on!” howled Remy as he shot a line up his nose from his finger. The drugs made him grow more and more impatient.

            “So Ricardo was talking about getting a massage, and Ana Marie says that man Jonathan could do it for him. So Ricky and I were like woah, so we asked her about it and she said that he takes her pants off,” said Hanley. Remy just starred at Hanley while shaking violently. He was so angry that his finger nails had cut through the skin on his palm. When Remy would snort cocaine he’d always get very violent and angry, it was usually part of his job, but today he was with his grandmother. He knew something bad was going to happen.

            “Are you telling the truth, swear to me that you are telling the truth man?” demanded Remy grabbing the collar of his friend’s coat.

            “Honestly I wouldn’t be lying about something like that,” said Hanley. After speaking he shot some cocaine up his nose and shook his head. “That guy in there is weird Rem. We watched him, he kissed one of the patients right smack on the lips.”

            “Are you fucking serious man, fuck!” yelled Remy slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “Where is Ricardo, I hope he is with my grandma?”

            “He is with your grandmother, should I go get him?”

            “No don’t go…wait yeah bring my grandmother to bed. I’ll come by and see her tomorrow, but just put her to bed and casually ask that fucking piece of shit when he is getting off from work. Seek a random conversation, you know what I mean? Be like, must be rough days here, when you getting off?” instructed Remy.

            “Alright, I’ll say it just like that,” said Hanley. He got up from the car and walked back into the front entrance. Remy watched Hanley nearly fuming from his ears. In a moment of unsurpassed clarity, he realized that what he was going to do was wrong. But something about Jonathan made Remy sick, he looked like a pedophile. Remy knew about that, something that only he and the uncle that molested him and Carlo knew.

            As he sat there steaming whilst snorting dangerous amounts of cocaine, he realized that he was becoming sick sitting there. He probably had done to much, as his heart rate had gone up to an insane rate and he was sweating profusely. He started to wonder if this was the end. If he started to convulse or have a severe seizure, he wondered if it would be ok. If he would have done enough in his life to where if he died at that very moment it would be ok, and he decided that he hadn’t. So Remy got out the car and lit a cigarette.

            As he smoked the cigarette and stood there, he started to become rather woozy. His eyes kept drifting closed so he flicked the cigarette to the ground and smashed it with his foot. After he stumbled back over to the car and fell asleep. It took another half hour for Ricardo and Hanley to come out, as they casually had a conversation with Jonathan. When they came out they figured that Remy was dead by the way his head was back.

            “Rem, wake up bro,” said Ricardo pushing his friends shoulder. Remy woke up abruptly and jerked his body up nearly colliding heads with Ricardo. The front door of the car was open, luckily the car was off.

            “Yeah what happened?” asked Remy looking at two old women who had walked out of the front entrance. They stared at them for a few seconds but then shifted their attention to walking to their car.

            “He should be coming out any second man, and he is done with his shift. I said that we wanted to show him something of your grandmothers,” said Ricardo. Remy nodded his head and slapped his hands together with glee.

            “Alright so get ready. Get your guns ready just in case. Let’s all stand by the trunk and be really nice, this is going to be great,” said Remy. He looked over at the front entrance and opened the glove compartment. He stuck his finger into the bag and then put it into his mouth. After he jumped out the car looking around meticulously, he adjusted his handgun which was tucked in his pants. Remy bent down and opened the trunk and then finally closed the car door which had been opened for about an hour. Remy gravitated toward the back of the car and leaned against the side.

            Multiple people were coming out of the entrance at that point, none of which were Jonathan. Remy sighed and closed her eyes for a few minutes. He opened them when he heard Ricardo howl, “Hey Jonathan, over here.”

            “Hello, I’m sorry but I’ll miss the bus if I don’t go now,” said Jonathan as he walked over to their car. His voice sent chills down Remy’s back and fear through his heart. He knew he was close to having a flashback.

            “We can give you a ride home, that’s no problem,” said Remy nodding his head.

            “That would be very nice, are you sure?”

            “Yeah we are sure, come on get it,” insisted Remy. Ricardo walked over to the passenger side and slid the seat up. As Jonathan stepped in Remy grabbed Hanley. “When we get there I pull over. We do the trunk.”

            With that Hanley stepped into the passenger side front seat and immediately closed the glove compartment which was wide open. Luckily Jonathan couldn’t see much in the dark, but they didn’t want it to spill all over the place. Ricardo and Jonathan had already been situated in the back seat. Remy started up the car without further ado and sped off.

            “So where do you live boss?” asked Remy pinching his nose and wiping his forehead.

            “I live on Mill River Street it’s not far from here. The dead end street that’s just ahead of Humphreys and behind the old Starter building,” said Jonathan. His voice once again freaked Remy out and made him angry.

            “Yeah so we appreciate how you take care of my grandmother. She is a beautiful woman right?” said Remy looking back at Jonathan as they stopped at a red light.

            “Yes she is very beautiful. She looks a lot like you. Was that your mother who always comes in?” asked Jonathan with a weary smile.

            “Come again?” asked Remy wiping his forehead.

            “Is that your mother, the woman that visits with your grandmother? She looks exactly like you.”

            “No that’s my Aunt Mina,” exclaimed Remy as they drove past the diner and turned into the Starter Building.

            “Oh no sir, my house is beyond that tunnel,” said Jonathan as Remy drove deeper into the parking lot.

            To“We forgot to show you that painting of my grandma,” said Remy. Jonathan just went with the flow as he sat there holding his small lunchbox. Once they stopped, Remy and Hanley shot from their seats to the outside. Their dressy oxfords and loafers on the pavement was a welcoming sound. Jonathan slowly departed from the backseat and stood there not knowing where to go. “I apologize but the painting is in the trunk.”

            Remy went to open it while Hanley and Ricardo reached for their guns. The trunk popped open and Remy walked over to lift it open all the way. Jonathan turned his head because there was nothing there. Hanley and Ricardo expected a tense tough guy dialogue, but Remy just grabbed the back of his head and smashed it a few times against the trunk door. The cracking sound was loud and it didn’t look like Jonathan would be getting up.

            “Get him into the trunk and then grab his phone in case he wakes up,” said Remy as Ricardo and Hanley had him in their arms. They dropped him into the trunk and closed it, then looked around and saw nobody. The part of the building that faced them had no windows and there were few cars there as well. As Hanley got into the back seat, Remy turned on the car and grabbed the bag of cocaine. Ricardo slammed the door after he was in and took a deep breath.

            “Now what?”

 

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Remy Santana: January 6th (Short Story)

Remy Santana 

 

January 6th

 

            “Look at this fucking guy Rem, I’m telling you I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. The man is a pederast, if you don’t believe me and do something about it I will,” said Ricardo fidgeting in his seat. Remy started grinding his teeth looking at Jonathan, one of the workers at his grandmother’s retirement home.

            “I don’t like this place man, it’s creepy as fuck,” said Hanley. Ricardo, Remy and Hanley had each sniffed a several lines of cocaine before they had gone into the New Haven “Jewish Home”. They were all being loud, covered in a dense layer of sweat and in Hanley’s case he had some cocaine on his nostril.

            “You got a little something there, nah right there bro,” said Ricardo pointing to Hanley’s nostril. He nodded his head, wiped his nose with his finger and shot the little particles up his nose. Ricardo rolled his eyes while Remy had his fixated on Jonathan. He had on high pants, he wore Velcro shoes and he had a comb over. His smile and voice reached beyond the limits of bizarre, and his demeanor suggested what Ricardo was saying had to be absolutely true. The drugs persuaded Remy to believe there was no other plausible explanation for this man to be working in a convalescent home. Remy wanted to take this man, whip out his gun and break his teeth with it. All this made sense when you were to that high.

            Remy kept a steady glare on Jonathan as his Grandmother finally walked in. She waved over to him as the three of them stood up. Ricardo and Hanley worked for Remy for three years and they had grown to know his grandmother Ana Marie as if she was their own. That was the way she was, especially when she was well. Remy had watched his grandmother’s health decline quickly. The timeline was fairly cohesive with the extension of his drug use.

            “Hi grandma,” said Remy walking over to greet his grandmother. She smiled and he kissed her on the cheek. He wasn’t sure if she even knew who he was at that point, over time she had started to call him Carlo. Carlo was Remy’s dead brother who had been gone for about five years. He was gunned down by rival gang members near the Methadone clinic on East Street. He never visited his grandmother, who raised Remy and Carlo after their mother overdosed. It was a bleak life, one that made it feel natural to do wrong.

            “Yes, yeah, it is that way. You know? Yeah that’s it,” muttered Ana Marie Santana looking at her grandson. She smiled a little but then looked clueless again which made Remy sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes and looked down at the ground as Ricardo and Hanley helped Ana Marie into her chair.

            “How have you been Grandma? Did they give back your teeth?” asked Remy grabbing his grandmother’s cold hand. He rubbed it with his finger as she looked up at him and smiled again. She nodded her head but stayed silent.

            “Hello Ms. Santana, how are you. Do you remember the last time we were here, we did the Irish sing a long,” said Ricardo. Ana Marie turned her head and looked at him and smiled.

            “Yes Carlo, of course. Of course, yes, of course. And that’s daddy,” said Ana Marie. Remy sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

            “Where is my husband? Get me my husband now! Send him a message, tell him I’m ready to go home!” shouted Nancy, one of the other patients. They were all in the dining room as it was six pm and they usually would eat dinner around four in the afternoon. Remy and the crew purposely avoided dinner at all costs, due to the sight of his grandmother struggling to eat. While they ate there would be arguments, fights and beeping from the various gadgets beneath the residents that would go off when they would stand up.

            It was a gloomy environment that nobody wanted to be, and it was a constant reminder to Remy that he wasn’t living up to his grandmother’s spirit. At least he didn’t believe so, he knew deep down that if she was ok she would tell him to leave her alone and live his own life. Nevertheless Remy felt obligated to take care of his grandmother, and it killed him when he realized that even if he hustled relentlessly and used all his savings he’d only be able to afford a decent place for six months. The reason he was reluctant to do that, was because it would cripple Remy for the near future and he didn’t honestly believe he could do things any faster.

            “T-t-t-the b-b-baby, where is Carlo? C-c-c-ca-can you find it?” stuttered Ana Marie as she began to shake.

            “Should we call the nurse?” asked Hanley as Remy grasped her hand and dropped his head. He winced as he watched her in pain. He remembered the day that she told him if she ever got bad and stopped being able to function normally, to take her outside and shoot her.

            “Let’s call the nurse Rem, she isn’t well man. I’ll go get her,” said Ricardo standing up. Right after Ricardo walked away there was a loud scream that came from a different room.

            “Fuck this place scares me,” said Hanley shaking his head with an expression of disbelief. As Ana Marie kept stuttering, Remy brought her even closer to him. He had her face against his chest but she kept talking. Remy looked up to see the nurse coming over.

            “She sometimes refuses to take her meds, but if you all are here it might be easier to persuade her to take them. You are Remy?” asked the nurse to Ricardo.

            “No I’m Remy, these are my friends Hanley and Ricardo,” said Remy pinching his nose and then wiping it with the back of his hand. The nurse looked at him with an odd expression as he started to sniffle, but then turned around.

            “What’s she looking at?” asked Remy shrugging his shoulders. Ana Marie started to laugh obliviously as there was another scream in the other room. A few moments passed and then the Nurse returned carrying two cups, one considerably smaller than the other one.

            “Here she comes,” muttered Hanley as the nurse came back over smiling.

            “Ok Remy, could you help me with this. She hates taking pills,” said the Nurse to Remy quietly. She then turned to Ana Marie, who was sitting next to Remy. “Ok Ana Marie, are you having a nice visit with your grandson?”

            “Yes, v-v-v-very nice, yes,” stuttered Ana Marie.

            “Grandma,” said Remy.

            “Yes!” shouted Ana Marie suddenly becoming hostile. Remy sighed and scratched his neck. He pinched his nose and sniffled as the Nurse looked at him again with a suspicious gaze.

            “Grandma you have to take these pills now, please do it for me ok?” said Remy bluntly. Ana Marie nodded her head but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

            “Here is your meds sweetheart,” said the Nurse bending down and placing a few capsules into Ana Marie’s hand. She held them and didn’t put them in her mouth, so the nurse grabbed her hand and brought it up to her mouth. “Put them in your mouth. Ana Marie, put them in your mouth.”

            “Grandma, please take your medicine. Do what the nurse says,” said Remy putting his hand on his grandmother’s knee. She nodded her head and then put the capsules into her mouth.

            “Good job,” said the Nurse bringing her the other cup. The nurse was clearly surprised that Ana Marie actually took the cup and drank the water. “Great job Ana Marie, have a nice visit with your grandson.”

            “Y-y-yes, I will. Tell da-da-daddy ok?”

            The nurse walked away, so Hanley and Ricardo pulled their seats back over. Remy looked down at the ground for some time but lifted his head up when he remembered that there was a candy bar in the car. He had noticed that he stuttering and shaking had gone done, but she was still muttering nonsensical words that nobody could understand.

            “Yo, I’ll be right back. Grandma, I’ll be right back ok? I have a surprise for you,” said Remy bending down to kiss his grandmother on the forehead. He walked away from her, Hanley and Ricardo exiting dining room from the front. He walked through their little sitting room, past the nurse and then to the door. The door was locked as this was the Harbor, also known as the dementia and Alzheimer’s ward. Remy tried to remember the code to press, but was struggling. The nurse must have noticed and came over to push the numbers in.

            Remy thanked her, opened the door and watched it close behind him to make sure that no one left behind him. After the door closed he cruised through the long hallways completely zoning out. He passed lots of people and would nod to all of them, some not looking back. As he floated through the halls his vision started to become blurry and convoluted, his skin started to feel pasty. He began to crave drugs and knew that once he got back to the car he had to do a few lines.

            Remy became sick to his stomach after he passed patients who smelled viciously of urine and feces. Remy’s stomach turned after walking by one room that really smelled foul. After he had passed through that he walked into a room that had a large gazebo in it. A few patients were sitting with family at the couches and the tables. Remy started to walk a little faster as he began to crave the cocaine more and more. He finally got to the lobby to take a right and finally leave the building.

            Their car was parked in a handicap space because Remy hadn’t been sure if they were leaving that day to go out to eat and also because he was lazy. He pressed the button to unlock his Black Nissan GT-R and then opened the car door. He slid into the front seat but didn’t close the door. He looked back to see the bag full of candy bars and brought it up to the front. After that he looked around the car trying to remember where they put the cocaine. He then realized it was in the glove compartment. So he reached over and pulled the bag out. He looked around the parking lot and then turned back to the bag. He grabbed some with two fingers and then dropped some on the back of his hand below the knuckle. He pushed one nostril closed and then shot it up the other. He sat there and put his seat back and must have dozed off for a few minutes. He then awoke and decided to do some more. Just as he poured a line on his finger and went in to shoot it up his nose her heard someone calling his name.

            He flipped out and dropped the bag into his lap.

            “Remy, you there?” asked Hanley. Remy looked over to see Hanley walking out of the front door. Remy started punching on the steering wheel and basically growling as his friend walked over. “What’s wrong man?”

            “You scared the shit out of me man! Fuck man!” yelled Remy. Hanley walked up closer and opened the passenger seat.

            “Oh you fucking jackass, you spilled all the shit man! Come on, you’ve got to watch what you are doing!” exclaimed Hanley. They both stepped out of the car and started to clean up by dabbing the cocaine and then putting it on his gums. There actually wasn’t that much on the seat, not at all but everything that was ended up back in their nose or in their mouth.

            “Why did you come out here? Where is Ricardo?” asked Remy.

            “Oh that’s right I meant to tell you,” said Hanley rubbing his hands through his long black ponytail.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         “So we were sitting there right, and then your grandmother said something. Now we heard it, but she wouldn’t say it again for us but maybe she’ll say it for you?”

            “What did she say man, come on!” howled Remy as he shot a line up his nose from his finger. The drugs made him grow more and more impatient.

            “So Ricardo was talking about getting a massage, and Ana Marie says that man Jonathan could do it for him. So Ricky and I were like woah, so we asked her about it and she said that he takes her pants off,” said Hanley. Remy just starred at Hanley while shaking violently. He was so angry that his finger nails had cut through the skin on his palm. When Remy would snort cocaine he’d always get very violent and angry, it was usually part of his job, but today he was with his grandmother. He knew something bad was going to happen.

            “Are you telling the truth, swear to me that you are telling the truth man?” demanded Remy grabbing the collar of his friend’s coat.

            “Honestly I wouldn’t be lying about something like that,” said Hanley. After speaking he shot some cocaine up his nose and shook his head. “That guy in there is weird Rem. We watched him, he kissed one of the patients right smack on the lips.”

            “Are you fucking serious man, fuck!” yelled Remy slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “Where is Ricardo, I hope he is with my grandma?”

            “He is with your grandmother, should I go get him?”

            “No don’t go…wait yeah bring my grandmother to bed. I’ll come by and see her tomorrow, but just put her to bed and casually ask that fucking piece of shit when he is getting off from work. Seek a random conversation, you know what I mean? Be like, must be rough days here, when you getting off?” instructed Remy.

            “Alright, I’ll say it just like that,” said Hanley. He got up from the car and walked back into the front entrance. Remy watched Hanley nearly fuming from his ears. In a moment of unsurpassed clarity, he realized that what he was going to do was wrong. But something about Jonathan made Remy sick, he looked like a pedophile. Remy knew about that, something that only he and the uncle that molested him and Carlo knew.

            As he sat there steaming whilst snorting dangerous amounts of cocaine, he realized that he was becoming sick sitting there. He probably had done to much, as his heart rate had gone up to an insane rate and he was sweating profusely. He started to wonder if this was the end. If he started to convulse or have a severe seizure, he wondered if it would be ok. If he would have done enough in his life to where if he died at that very moment it would be ok, and he decided that he hadn’t. So Remy got out the car and lit a cigarette.

            As he smoked the cigarette and stood there, he started to become rather woozy. His eyes kept drifting closed so he flicked the cigarette to the ground and smashed it with his foot. After he stumbled back over to the car and fell asleep. It took another half hour for Ricardo and Hanley to come out, as they casually had a conversation with Jonathan. When they came out they figured that Remy was dead by the way his head was back.

            “Rem, wake up bro,” said Ricardo pushing his friends shoulder. Remy woke up abruptly and jerked his body up nearly colliding heads with Ricardo. The front door of the car was open, luckily the car was off.

            “Yeah what happened?” asked Remy looking at two old women who had walked out of the front entrance. They stared at them for a few seconds but then shifted their attention to walking to their car.

            “He should be coming out any second man, and he is done with his shift. I said that we wanted to show him something of your grandmothers,” said Ricardo. Remy nodded his head and slapped his hands together with glee.

            “Alright so get ready. Get your guns ready just in case. Let’s all stand by the trunk and be really nice, this is going to be great,” said Remy. He looked over at the front entrance and opened the glove compartment. He stuck his finger into the bag and then put it into his mouth. After he jumped out the car looking around meticulously, he adjusted his handgun which was tucked in his pants. Remy bent down and opened the trunk and then finally closed the car door which had been opened for about an hour. Remy gravitated toward the back of the car and leaned against the side.

            Multiple people were coming out of the entrance at that point, none of which were Jonathan. Remy sighed and closed her eyes for a few minutes. He opened them when he heard Ricardo howl, “Hey Jonathan, over here.”

            “Hello, I’m sorry but I’ll miss the bus if I don’t go now,” said Jonathan as he walked over to their car. His voice sent chills down Remy’s back and fear through his heart. He knew he was close to having a flashback.

            “We can give you a ride home, that’s no problem,” said Remy nodding his head.

            “That would be very nice, are you sure?”

            “Yeah we are sure, come on get it,” insisted Remy. Ricardo walked over to the passenger side and slid the seat up. As Jonathan stepped in Remy grabbed Hanley. “When we get there I pull over. We do the trunk.”

            With that Hanley stepped into the passenger side front seat and immediately closed the glove compartment which was wide open. Luckily Jonathan couldn’t see much in the dark, but they didn’t want it to spill all over the place. Ricardo and Jonathan had already been situated in the back seat. Remy started up the car without further ado and sped off.

            “So where do you live boss?” asked Remy pinching his nose and wiping his forehead.

            “I live on Mill River Street it’s not far from here. The dead end street that’s just ahead of Humphreys and behind the old Starter building,” said Jonathan. His voice once again freaked Remy out and made him angry.

            “Yeah so we appreciate how you take care of my grandmother. She is a beautiful woman right?” said Remy looking back at Jonathan as they stopped at a red light.

            “Yes she is very beautiful. She looks a lot like you. Was that your mother who always comes in?” asked Jonathan with a weary smile.

            “Come again?” asked Remy wiping his forehead.

            “Is that your mother, the woman that visits with your grandmother? She looks exactly like you.”

            “No that’s my Aunt Mina,” exclaimed Remy as they drove past the diner and turned into the Starter Building.

            “Oh no sir, my house is beyond that tunnel,” said Jonathan as Remy drove deeper into the parking lot.

            “We forgot to show you that painting of my grandma,” said Remy. Jonathan just went with the flow as he sat there holding his small lunchbox. Once they stopped, Remy and Hanley shot from their seats to the outside. Their dressy oxfords and loafers on the pavement was a welcoming sound. Jonathan slowly departed from the backseat and stood there not knowing where to go. “I apologize but the painting is in the trunk.”

            Remy went to open it while Hanley and Ricardo reached for their guns. The trunk popped open and Remy walked over to lift it open all the way. Jonathan turned his head because there was nothing there. Hanley and Ricardo expected a tense tough guy dialogue, but Remy just grabbed the back of his head and smashed it a few times against the trunk door. The cracking sound was loud and it didn’t look like Jonathan would be getting up.

            “Get him into the trunk and then grab his phone in case he wakes up,” said Remy as Ricardo and Hanley had him in their arms. They dropped him into the trunk and closed it, then looked around and saw nobody. The part of the building that faced them had no windows and there were few cars there as well. As Hanley got into the back seat, Remy turned on the car and grabbed the bag of cocaine. Ricardo slammed the door after he was in and took a deep breath.

            “Now what?”

 

 

 

The City Breaks Its Promise “The Kids of CrackTown”

 

Chapter 1

Kids of Crack Town

 

 

She would always leave now and then, but I knew that this time was different; I could tell by the way she left. It was that night that my sister departed without a trace or a note. Without a goodbye, she left with nothing. No clothes, no belongings, she just left. I didn’t want her to leave but there was nothing I could do to stop her, she always would leave but this time was different. I was scared, I sat up in my bed and looked outside my window hoping I’d see her stroll back but she never did. I stayed like that for half of the fucking night until I finally conceded that she wasn’t showing up anytime soon.

I got about three hours sleep and woke up bright and early; 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 all over my head. The anxiety and fear that coursed through my veins gave me a disgusting aftertaste, tarnished my vision with a headache and made my heart whine. 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 was her guardian; 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 a dollar into three meals for the day.

I was able to take us out of the chaos, but it was far to 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 bare knuckle boxing or 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. The violence I surrounded myself with was all an analogical way of fighting the frustration I had in my life. It was clear and obvious, 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, it hit me the hardest the day my sister left. I had hoped she would have tamed her habits; the drug use and the promiscuity are what hurt the most. I hated thinking of what my sister was actually doing, getting beaten by men, doing things for drugs and being used as a tool. I had thought for some time that maybe the world would show us mercy, but then I had a wakeup call to this atrocity exhibition, this controlled depression that surrounded my life. I didn’t understand it, nor did I ever want to. I hated what she did, and 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. However, 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 hung out around the red light district at night, during the day we would stay huddled up in our apartment. We’d hear some bitch getting beaten nearly to death almost every night and I’d hold my sister as she cried. It was a bleak life to live. When I say I took us out I meant we moved to a better part of Hunts Point, but 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.

I lived in a decent apartment in a shitty neighborhood. It wasn’t far from where we grew up, the “Crack Town”, a part of the City where the Crack Cocaine epidemic had swept so hard it felt like it was something out of a movie. There were apartments that were a sickness, terrifying and unadulterated. We lived on the top floor for some time; passing by the building still in its sullen state was difficult. Crack heads with families piled into the apartments like the fucking 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 long gone at that point, 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 in 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, and I didn’t fuck around with her. The kids of crack town didn’t play games, instead we grew up young and became more responsible than the adults.

We pickpocketed sold drugs, committed robbery, worked at chop shops, shoveling snow, walking dogs or even cleaning cars, anything to get by each day. We used to sell Snickers bars in the Subways; we’d 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. We made it our home, I made it safe for her and it meant something back then.

My Uncle Karol was my mother’s brother, he was a cold hearted son of a bitch. A lot of people said I was basically a clone of him, we both had similar tempers, mannerisms and outlooks on life. I personally didn’t think I was anything like him. He also grew up on the streets in a similar situation to mine. Uncle Karol went on to carry out hits by age thirteen, he bragged about it openly. 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 made me want to see a therapist. What I grew up around seemed like nothing to what I saw working with Uncle Karol. It was training in a lot of ways. 

My job was to watch over all the filthy shit that my Uncle had his hand in, 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 few bars. My official “job” was a car salesman, even though I had only sold one car and that was to a Korean drug dealer. It was all ugly and dirty with my Uncle, and if you fucked with him he’d kill you. It was just like a movie, except worse. His temper was explosive and violent, just like mine.

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 about my sister. I left the house early even though I spent at least an hour staring at the fucking 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, he 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 black tar heroin. Cardinal was my friend since fourth grade. 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, he showed respect to me and he actually cared about me.

 I was a different person when he knew me, I was in Foster Care with my sister being abused and raped every night. I was meek, timid and afraid, far more disturbed and hurt then I could have ever comprehended. My sister was going through it even worse, I was haunted by not being able to protect her. One day, I picked her up from her class and ran out the school. We stayed on the run and met up with the other kids of Hunt’s Point for a few months. That was when I returned to Crack Town and learned everything I knew.

They finally found us, but by that time my mother had overdosed and my Uncle was in town. He vied for custody of us, and eventually won. The bastard put us to work, but he never hurt us, protected us and cared about us ultimately. My aunt loved us, I was never sure about Uncle Karol though. My Aunt was the picture perfect Aunt, full of love, hugs and kisses. My Uncle, a brutal bastard was the boss outside the house but in the house my Aunt always had the final say. It wasn’t like my Aunt was oblivious to my Uncle’s activities, he would often come home covered in blood and always carried a gun. She was just alright with it.

I earned my keep and started selling drugs to people like Cardinal who were my friends. I felt guilty about that, especially since I saw what drugs did to my mother. Cardinal had an appetite, and became quite the fiend. We stayed friends, through my guilt I often gave him freebies when we spent time together. Even as a fiend, Cardinal was quite the informant and the closest thing to a functioning drug addict I had ever seen in my life. His information had never been wrong, not once.

Cardinal got his name due to his fiery red hair. He was the classic redhead with very pale skin. He was skinny and tall since I knew him back in school, and he grew to tower over me. Cardinal hadn’t gone by his real name, Donny Wrinkle, also since I knew him. His family was very religious, 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. Considering it was Hunts Point, he lived in a nice area. He lived in an apartment building that 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 give a fuck 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, all I did was feed his habit and that day I was going to walk over to his apartment anyway to sell him some dope. I wasn’t really selling it, it was below market price and he was probably paying for it with money I gave him. I was conflicted; I hated what I did in general, all the violence and the darkness, the sickness. I knew that I was in to deep at that point, or at least I thought I was.

The cold air hit me hard that morning when I left my apartment. I put my hood over my head, but I had on a thin jacket so it didn’t really matter. I realized was going to be cold that morning. It didn’t matter, as I was heated and stayed deep enough in thought where I didn’t even think about the cold. I checked my waist holster, my Mark XIX .50 Action Express Desert Eagle tucked in there. I didn’t want to be like a movie star or anything, I just liked the way it fired and my Uncle had given me it for my seventeenth birthday and for some reason I cherished it.

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 Clarissa pushing her baby carriage across the street, she was bundled up. I waved to her but she didn’t see me. She lived on the first floor of the house I lived in and had bought with earnings I made from the money Uncle Sam knew about. The house was three family, on the first floor was Clarissa, and the second floor was an Old man named Bruce. He was quiet, they both were. It was a quiet house, I spent such little time there. The only person that made noise was Sephrina, and when we argued we really caused a commotion. I felt bad thinking about it, we probably disturbed the old buzzard and the baby, but at that moment I don’t give a fuck.

I thought about her more and 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. I slipped on my sunglasses which I forgot I had for the last few minutes of the walk. I noticed there were a lot of cars out that morning; I had forgotten that it was Monday. It took me awhile waiting for the cars to pass in order to cross the street, but they finally did and I was there at the doorstep of Cardinal’s apartment building.

I swung open the door and bolted through the door, charged up the stairs and then banged on the door of the first floor. After obnoxiously slamming on the door, I took out my phone and called Cardinal. I waited for him to come and open up the fucking door, he was taking his time. I decided to bang on the door again.

“Cardinal its Spiro, let me in,” I said as the door unlocked. I swung it open and then walked through. 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 fat ass. Then I saw Cardinal waiting for me by his door, he was naked beside a pair of drawers and some socks. “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,” he said as we shook hands. “Why you around here so fucking early man?”

“Something came up last night and I need to talk to you,” I said as we went inside his filthy apartment. His apartment was very small for one thing, and there was trash almost everywhere. He had a small kitchen area in the front; 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 on it. Following the horrid kitchen was the Bedroom/living room that had a glass coffee table and a bed. That was it for the apartment, beside a fucking horrible bathroom. Considering the past, it was fairly clean in there that day.

“So what’s good man?” asked Cardinal taking a seat on the bed. I crossed my arms and leaned up against a wall. I looked at him and he must have figured out what I was there for pretty quick. “Is it Sephrina?”

“Yeah…She left last night, I wanted to know if you heard anything lately, know about anything that I don’t?” I asked.

“I heard some things but I don’t want you getting mad it my apartment, ya know you are crazy bro. You’ll start smashing shit up and punching walls and shit man, you know you will too,” said Cardinal. He was right I was equipped with a brutal temper. As I said before, my sister was promiscuous and hypersexual; meanwhile I was violent and explosive. I’d break walls, hands, televisions, floors and anything else that was around and breakable.

“I heard she is back with Jeff,” muttered Cardinal. He looked down as I shuffled around, then I smacked his wall pretty hard leaving a little dent. “Come on man!”

I kept swearing and lounging in my thoughts, I had racing intrusive thoughts that were getting the best of me. I wanted to cry but I never did in front of anyone else. I caught up with myself and then realized what I did to the wall. I looked at Cardinal who had his hands up. I knew exactly what would calm him down so I reached into my pocket and threw him a balloon full of black tar heroin that my uncle and I had got from Mexico.

“You got me that Mexican Mud bro!” exclaimed Cardinal. He stood up and shook my hand during his small celebration. He looked at the wall and waved his hand at it. “Fuck the wall man, we’ll just have to put a picture up or something.”

“Are you sure she is back with that son of a bitch?” I asked bemused by the celebration. I was to wrapped up in anger to care about anything.

“That’s what people are saying, they saw them at the bar…and well…she was high and being all loud and he was kissing all over her and shit. My man was there and I was like, yo you should have knocked that motherfucker out! That’s my nigga Spiro’s sister!” said Cardinal loudly. He looked at me, I was shaking I was so mad. His jubilance disappeared and he came over to give me a hug and pat me on the back. “You know where he lives, let’s go and pay his ass a visit?”

“You want to come?” I asked.

“Hell yeah dude, I owe you anyway but it sounds like a good time,” he said grinning. We did a handshake and then he started moseying around the room. I knew what he was looking for, Cardinal really was a fiend. “You want a rail bro?”

I shook my head as Cardinal pulled out a mirror and placed it on the bed.

“Here is my Lassie, dude I was watching this Scottish movie and there they call bitches Lassies dude, no lie I swear to god. He was like, my lassie and I was expecting to see a dog or something. I can’t believe that, so I named my wonderwall Lassie,” he said plugging one nostril and shooting the cocaine up his nose. “This…this shit; this is the gear you gave me yesterday.”

I nodded my head; I was restless and ready to go. I wanted to hurt something; I was ready to get out of that shitty apartment. I was angry; I was feeling violent and sick. I was ready to explode and bring my sister home. It felt like almost every month my emotions would implode, and then on the outside I’d explode. I’d destroy my house, break someone’s jaw, and simply do something that would be destructive enough to get my rage out. Then after I had done that I would start up again, taking shit from people, torturous pain from trauma would be building inside my body and the angst would slowly take over. It would all build until one day I’d explode. It had been about twenty days since I exploded, so I was impatiently waiting.

“Cardinal let’s get out of here, I can’t sit around here much longer,” I exclaimed. Cardinal nodded his head and reached for a shirt and a pair of pants. I stepped out of the room into the small kitchen as he started changing into the new clothes.

“Ready to make a mess bro?” asked Cardinal. I wasn’t sure what he meant and I thought about it for a few minutes, before I could answer Cardinal elaborated. “I mean, we are going to crack some skulls right?”

“I can’t keep doing this man, I’m serious I can’t keep doing this,” I grumbled crossing my arms again.

“Maybe…maybe give her some space?” said Cardinal quietly. He stepped out of the kitchen and moved back into Cardinal’s bedroom, I glared at him as I was pissed off at the suggestion. “I’m sorry bro, ya know I’m just trying to help and you know how I am. Sometimes I say some dumbass shit.”

“No, well…I think you might be right. Do you know how in movies and TV shows, the brother is giving his sister enough space. I think you might be right man, I think maybe if I tell her that and kind of do it, she might come back home. She is only eighteen, she should be home right?” I asked rhetorically.

“Yeah bro…but you also can’t give her to much space, she shouldn’t be getting used and beat, that’s not right,” said Cardinal putting on his sweatshirt and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He had a lot of guts to say that, maybe it was the cocaine. I appreciated him telling the truth though; I just hated hearing what happened to her. I knew all to well though, I cleaned up the mess each time. Deep down I hoped that I’d make such a sideshow out of one of one of her boyfriend’s that they’d all know about me. She was attracted to any man who said something nice to her; often they knew she was easy and that she would do anything they wanted. She was beyond insecure and thought of herself as a piece of trash. She’d get beaten, so high she’d be taken advantage of and she would sell herself for money for her dope. In an act of true desperation I would try to give her drugs but she had an expensive habit. Her arm took in thousands of dollars a month.

As Cardinal and I walked out of the house I thought about the real bad times, I wasn’t sure if a tear rolled down my cheek but I casually wiped something away. My sister had been gang raped numerous times, when I would find her I’d be so angry that I’d hyperventilate until I’d pass out or I’d cut myself before I started breaking things. I was loose a cannon, completely out of control. I had absolutely no control over anything in my life. Without my sister I wasn’t sure what I would do, and I knew that I couldn’t beat or kill every man that hit her. That fact paralyzed me, theoretically I could but it really wasn’t possible. She was used so much; I just wish she would learn that she was so amazing. That she was so beautiful and I loved her so much. But she kept running back to bad situations; I was tired of cleaning up these awful messes. I’d wake up every morning with a jolt, sick to my stomach, barely able to breath and with tremors like an alcoholic without the drink.

We walked out of the apartment building and I stepped into Cardinal’s car, a 1988 Lincoln Town Car that looked like World War 3. He had it for ten years as a birthday present from his mother. I had been in it four times when it broke down, once when we were in the middle of nowhere. Cardinal was more than a customer; he was one of my only friends.

“Remember that Mexican bitch Luisa?” asked Cardinal after he started the engine. I hated the word bitch, and he should have known that by now.

“Don’t use that word alright, I hate that word and you know that. Just don’t use it,” I hissed very annoyed.

“Hey man this is my car!” exclaimed Cardinal playfully.

“It might be mine in a second, ill pull out my gun and knock your scrawny ass onto the pavement if you keep it up,” I said laughing. “Just please don’t use that word, you can tell your dumbass story if you keep that out.”

“If you knew her bro, you’d know she is a bitch. Real talk I’m serious, she is big trouble,” said Cardinal. Then he nodded his head and looked at me. “Alright, well…remember that young lady Luisa, the one with the ten kids?”

“Yeah I remember her,” I said. I knew Luisa all to well. One of the products of degradation and New York City, Luisa was a crack head and the mother of ten children, each by men she prostituted with. The reason I knew her so well, was she was also one of the people I sold to. She would sell or do anything for drugs, I stayed away as much as possible but my uncle made me sell to her. He had me convinced that it was ok.

“She is pregnant again, I saw her walking around with a huge belly, a Popsicle, meanwhile wearing what looked like a wedding dress. She looked like she was from Gunsmoke,” said Cardinal laughing. “It’s a shame.”

“You know what, it really is a shame,” I agreed.

“Where does this guy live?” interjected Cardinal taking a turn.

“He lives a few minutes away, in the Point.”

“Now I remember,” said Cardinal taking a right turn. He drove for the rest of the way in complete silence, Cardinal turned on the radio softly to a pop station. That weren’t playing much that I knew or anything that I thought was very good. It all just sounded generic, I got tired of it quick but it helped the time pass.

We drove through the Red Light District during the day, but we saw the whores lined up waiting for sunset. I guess there was probably was business to do in this barren area. There were alleyways, abandoned buildings covered in graffiti, condemned apartments and a lot of garages and storage spaces. The streets were wet; it was especially unattractive when the sky was gray. It was a sad part of town to drive through; it was the epitome of decrepit. We drove a little longer until we got to the apartment that correctly stood between a small Spanish grocery store and the liquor store.

Cardinal drove up fairly close, but he had the right idea to move fast and get going before my sister could escape. The front door to the apartment was unlocked and weary, the hallway was foul. It smelled like urine, it didn’t look that bad but you could tell you didn’t want to live there. It reminded me of my old apartment. We hiked up two flights of stairs, took a left into a hallway of doors and stopped a 205.

 So there I was wielding my weapon, my shoulder touching the door ready to pounce and break it open. I took two deep breaths, stepped back and then lunged forward. I had my Desert Eagle out aiming forward. I rushed into the apartment to find Jeff with his hands up. He had been watching television evidently. He had dropped his bowl of cereal and looked at me with a stunned expression.

“What the fuck! Hey, What the fuck are you two doing here…oh shit,” said Jeff with his hands up. He was wearing a Yankee shirt, and a pair of shorts sitting in a lounge chair with the television on.

“That’s right oh shit, Cardinal go check the house thoroughly,” I ordered. Cardinal dashed away to look through the small apartment as I walked over to Jeff. “Where is my sister?”

“Man, I ain’t seen your fucking sister, since the last time you told me to stay away from her, I listened to you I swear to god I listened to you,” he exclaimed closing his eyes.

“We will see,” I said quietly.

“Listen man…I understand I did wrong ok, but you can’t keep coming in her destroying my house and shit, especially if I didn’t do anything wrong. I listened to you, so–”

“Smack him Spiro, he is lying, I told you my boy saw him kissing all over your sister!” exclaimed Cardinal. I smacked him with the barrel of the gun, and then kicked him off his chair. He whimpered and cried, but I stomped him once in the head before crouching down to his level.

“Is that true?” I growled.

“Well…listen she was there and we were all high man, listen please–”

I kicked him in his face three times as hard as I could, then picked him up by his shirt and threw him against his chair.

“Nothing here bro!” called out Cardinal. I looked at him and nodded my head. I turned my attention back to Jeff who was crying with a bloody face.

“You can’t say I beat you for no reason, you lied to me man. I have a very good reason, a very good fucking reason,” I said blasting my foot against his face one last time. “Now I expect you will tell me the truth right now, I expect that much of you. So tell me, do you know where my sister is.”

“Hold on, Hold on don’t hit me again!” he exclaimed rolling over clutching his nose. He sat up still crying. “I didn’t do anything with her, I kissed her once and it was a mistake, it won’t happen again I swear. But, listen to me for one second…I know that she talked to Razak a lot that night. Razak, do you know…Razak, you know him?”

“Yeah I know Razak, when was this, the night you kissed her. When did all this happen?” I asked peering down at Jeff.

“It was two…two nights ago, there was a party. There were a ton of people there, I talked to her for a few minutes but mainly she hung out around Razak and I’m not lying,” said Jeff.

“You do know what happens if you lie to me, it won’t be me putting you in an oven, it will be Uncle Karol. Do you understand me? He doesn’t have as much mercy and doesn’t honor any type of humanity,” I said. He nodded his head flipping blood everywhere.

“Because you definitely have tons of mercy,” muttered Cardinal laughing. I almost told him to shut the fuck up, but I started laughing. I laughed at the moment we were in, it was so ridiculous and Jeff was funny when I beat him up.

“Ok Jeff, so I’m taking your word that Razak might know something, I apologize for coming into your house and causing all this trouble,” I grumbled taking out a money clip from my pocket. I noticed Jeff looking at the money, as he wasn’t exactly the most righteous guy you’d ever meet. “Why don’t you get a new door, get that nose taken care of and…well maybe you can get a new television, c’mon it’s the digital era, everyone is living it up and you’ve got this old hunk of shit.”

I threw the money clip on the ground and Jeff nodded his head. “Thank you Spiro, and I’m sorry about everything.”
            “Don’t make me mad again Jeff, please don’t.”

Cardinal left the apartment first and then I followed behind, I didn’t put my back to Jeff even though I didn’t expect him to pull out a hand canon and blast us both away. I’d heard of stranger, so I kept watch. I could tell by his facial expression that he was satisfied, he was happy with his money.

With that we left, when we got back into the car I had to catch my breath. I felt sick, like I was going to throw up. Cardinal started the car but I wasn’t ready for it to get moving.

“Hold up, give me a minute,” I grumbled.

“Ok,” said Cardinal. He reclined my seat and grabbed a tissue to blow his nose with. I moved away from him as he did so, he thought it was funny but I already was feeling nauseous. “By the way, how much did you give Jeff back there?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbled. I knew Cardinal to well, he wanted to get paid. “Listen you know I’ll take care of you, but don’t piss me off asking me. You don’t need to worry about that, you respect me and I respect you and you should know that I’d pay you for today. But don’t start with me, we still have to go over and see Razak.”

“Razak…We going over there, well I need to be strapped. Cardinal popped his glove compartment open and pulled out a handgun. He tucked it into his waist and put the car into drive. We started moving but I kept my eyes closed, I was angry and the rage was building up. I knew I was bound to explode, I had rage like crying spells, a fit came every now and then and I’d destroy the house, hurt someone or hurt myself. I knew a bad one was coming, and I worried about when.

If I exploded on Razak I could start a small war. Razak was a Eastern European scum bag who often “hooked up” with my sister, he was part of a street gang in Hunt’s Point. I had my confrontations with him quite a few times, but his people always backed down against my Uncle. Almost everything I did, my Uncle had my back on. No matter how violent or crazy, because we thought alike.

“Where does Razak chill, you know?” asked Cardinal glancing over at me as we stopped at a red light.

“I don’t know, I figure he would stay around the only part that’s theirs. Go around Morris Heights, it’s still early we might be able to catch him before he leaves.”

“He lives in that fuckin neighborhood?” asked Cardinal looking shocked.

“Yeah, why what’s so fascinating about that?”

“Nothing,” muttered Cardinal. We sat there in silence for a little while, Cardinal kept opening and then closing his mouth to say something.

“What?”

“What the fuck is Razak?” asked Cardinal as we stopped at yet another red light.

“He is West Indian or African, something like that. His name is Thierry Razak, like the soccer player. You know Thierry Henry,” I said as Cardinal looked at me with a blank stare. “Oh I forgot you are retarded, you never heard of Thierry Henry.”

“I don’t want soccer, it’s gay.”

“And what’s not gay, football? Yeah, straddling over men isn’t gay that’s right,” I said sarcastically.

“You don’t straddle, you tackle. Fuck that, Football is a man’s support. The bitches love when we ball down at the park, I told you about the bitch Marie, she was fine and she was loving me scoring the touchdowns,” said Cardinal laughing.

“I’m sure, playing catch in the park is impressive. And about the word bitch, if you say it one more time I’m going to strike you very hard,” I growled. Cardinal nodded his head and for the rest of the ride stayed silent. The word Bitch brought back memories for me. My mind was always laced with traumatic memories, and there were certain memories that I desperately tried to erase.

I didn’t have much time to think about it then, as we entered Morris Heights, we passed the low income shit holes and the guys hanging out smoking and drinking. I held my Desert Eagle tight in my hand, I knew we may had put ourselves in danger going through those parts.

“This doesn’t look good, why the fuck are we here bro?” asked Cardinal. We took a turn and then Cardinal pulled over at Clifford’s place. We sat there looking up at the step streets. I noticed a few guys coming over towards us but I tried to ignore it. At the same time however I clutched my gun religiously

“Ay yo, what’s good can I help you with somethin?” asked one of the guys. They both wore windbreakers, one was red and the other was black. They had hoods over their heads as well as fitted caps, I recognized them as part of the street gang Razak was in. The red and black were the colors, and even if theirs were makeshift and I could have been wrong I took it seriously. However, being a hothead I bolted out of the car brandishing my gun and charged up to them.

“Yeah you can help me with something, where is Razak?” I hissed. They actually put their hands up, one more than the other. They looked at each other and then at Cardinal who pointed his handgun at them as well.

“We don’t know no Razak, the fuck is Razak?” said one of them.

“If you think I won’t fucking shoot both of you and leave you here to rot, your brains sprayed on the pavement floating into the sewer. I will, I will shoot you. Just tell me where the fuck Razak is, Thierry Razak!” I shouted. We were drawing attention rapidly and I heard Cardinal say something but it was to late as a mob was rushing us. Instead of just heading to the car I pistol whipped one of them first.

I got to the car right in time as Cardinal sped off, we kept our heads down in case they shot but nothing was fired. We looked at each other and laughed.

“Yo, better luck next time man, we’re lucky we didn’t get tagged,” said Cardinal laughing hard. I looked at him laughing, I may have giggled but nothing near as hard as he laughed. I had pistol whipped the kid so that the message would get to Razak, because my gut feeling told me he knew where my sister was. I worried that he might hurt her then, in that moment I acted like I didn’t care because she got herself into that situation. But then the nervous stomach kicked in and I got scared, I thought about her getting hit and it made me sick. I was clinging on to hope that I would find her sooner rather than later.

 

 

Cardinal dropped me off near my Uncle’s Deli, I waved him goodbye and then there I was alone in the middle of the street. I walked far enough so that I could see the big sign for Karol’s World Famous Deli. Karol’s Deli was only known throughout New York and back in our native Germany, but beside that there wasn’t much acclaim for the Deli and its sandwiches. My Uncle just decided to put that on the label so that he could attract the few customers we got.

As I walked I noticed George Glazer causally walking up to me. Glazer looked good, and I doubted her had anything to do with Sephrina. She just loved talking about him; his Narcotics Anonymous group was one of the only ones she felt comfortable in.

“Spiro how are you,” he said shaking my hand with both of his. He had a warm smile, and was about the nicest guy you ever could meet. He was great, and someone I looked up to.

“I’m not good today George, shit is bad again.”

“What shit is bad? I came over here looking for you,” said George. He surprised me when he said that, I wondered if he knew anything about Sephrina.

“Sephrina is gone,” I said. George sighed and put his hands on his hips, he had a look of absolute dread. “Why were you here?”

“To tell you that your sister hadn’t been attending meetings like we had talked about, sporadically she’d be there but nothing solid. She would show up every other day, maybe a little less than that,” said George.

“Did she look like she was using?” I asked quietly. George shook his head and sighed once more.

“Not really, she was detached but I don’t think she was using. At least it didn’t seem like she was high during the meetings, and she did share once that she had met somebody. I never saw them and knew nothing about them, it’s just what I heard her say,” said George.

            We shared a look of dread, if anything George was my partner when it came to cleaning up Sephrina’s messes. He knew all to well the consequences, and he looked bad that day. I felt the same, I felt like the wind was knocked out me. I just wish she’d pop up in front of my eyes; it would end all the tension and release the stress. I wouldn’t have to worry that much for the rest of the day.

            Instead there was only a gloomy forecast; both George and I had energy sucked from out expressions. I walked over to give him a quick hug, he patted my back and then pulled back to look at me. “She is going to kill you one day Spiro; I just wish it would be easier to figure these damn problems out. But that’s why they are called problems, we have to solve them. We’ve got to solve this one before we are buried next to each other.”

            I laughed but what he said was true, this was no fucking joke.

            “You are right George, right now I’m a nervous wreck,” I said quietly.

            “Meditate, read some literature and keep your mind occupied. I know how angry you get, I’ve seen it and it’s not good for you. You have to focus on you, and stop letting the other things in life get in the way of that. First you have to learn to love yourself,” said George looking at me with solemn eyes. He came close and touched my chest. “I know that you don’t, but I want you to know that we all do. And you can’t probably help your sister if you don’t even love yourself.”

As George walked away after a handshake, I wondered what this life would bring to me to next. I found out early, the waiting room of my Uncle’s Deli. George’s words lingered with me as I took a seat in one of the booths playing with my phone.

I waited at the Deli for two hours before my uncle showed up. He had an ice pack pressed up against his right cheek. It turns out he had gone to the dentist, my uncle’s least favorite activity. He was mad, and he usually had a pretty foul temper. I had never really been the victim of my uncle’s wrath; instead I stayed clear as much as possible.

            “How ya doing kid, I missed you today. You know I had to go to the dentist, but this dumb fuck over here scheduled the appointment with the wrong dentist. I like Dr. Chung, but he scheduled to appointment with that other son of a bitch. Almost got me killed,” said Uncle Karol. He walked over and slapped Stevie, one of Uncle Karol’s new guys.

            “I had a situation today, I’m sorry Uncle Karol,” I said quietly.

            “No worries kid, no worries at all. But I tell you something, that guy was a fuckin amateur. He almost destroyed my tooth; I wanted to rip his fuckin balls off. I’m tempted to have a talk with him, ya know what I mean?” said Uncle Karol keeping the ice to his face. He showed me over to a table near the door, we both sat down and he sighed and groaned.

            “Was it Doctor Stone, the guy with the heavy beard? He can be kind of rough.”

            “He was brutal. I tell you what he’s got some balls, and this dumb fuck didn’t do a thing when he was torturing me. Stevie, Stevie! The least you could have done would have been to tell him to lighten up, right?” shouted Uncle Karol.

            “He is an asshole,” I muttered.

            “A guy like me, ya know a guy like me, you fuck with his teeth and that could be it for you, ya know what I mean?” said Uncle Karol posturing at the table.

            “I’ll call up and file a complaint,” I said smiling. My uncle looked at me and laughed.

            “You do that kid,” he said still laughing. “Your uncle is to much of a dickhead to ever consider something like that. I do it the old street way, right to the neck.”

            I nodded my head still smiling and then looked down at the table playing with my fingers. I started feeling dread, a sick feeling through my body. I started feeling lonely thinking about missing my sister. My Uncle must have noticed my sorrow and picked up on it pretty quickly. “She left again?”

            “Yeah she did.”

            “What did she do, just ditch the apartment in the middle of the night or something?” asked my Uncle. I had always wished that my Uncle take these things with a little more sensitivity and care, instead of being his usual hard ass self when it came to all aspects of life. He was hard to be around for long, he knew it though and sometimes he tried his hardest.

            “Yeah, I think I heard her leave but it was to late. I just don’t understand what the fuck she is doing anymore,” I complained and rubbed my forehead.

            “Listen to me; you are my favorite nephew, honestly the rest of the family I can’t take in large doses if you know what I mean. I support you in whatever you feel is right, but she drags you along and is killing you. Look at your face, you look fucking tired!” exclaimed Uncle Karol. He paused for a second and then grabbed my wrist, so I looked up at him. “You’ve got to let her go.”

            “But Uncle, if somebody knocked around your sister, Aunt Doris. What would you do?” I asked crossing my arms.

            “I’d fucking kill them, but I don’t count I am a horrible person for Christ sake!” yelled Uncle Karol as him and his posse surrounding our table burst into laughter.

            “You’ve got to understand I’m in a horrible spot, she is my sister. Not just some girlfriend or friend, she is my little sister. And you know how I took care of her, not one thing was wrong. She had everything she needed and even stuff that she wanted. I made sure there was food on the table every night, you get what I’m trying to say?”

            “Yeah I do,” answered Uncle Karol.

            “I just can’t stop and do nothing,” I mumbled looking back down at the table.

            “You’ve got no fucking life kid, at your age you should be drinking, partying, getting your dick sucked. You have no life!” exclaimed Uncle Karol.

            “I have a life!” I responded.

            “No you don’t, you don’t. We’ve been trying to set you up with that brunette who lives across the street but you are never interested.”

“I don’t have time for it,” I said fidgeting in my chair. “Anyway what the fuck do you do Uncle Karol; you sit there in front of that television watching re-runs of the Seinfeld all fucking day. So don’t–”
            “Fuck you!” shouted Uncle Karol giggling a little bit. Everyone at the bar fell out in laughter; they were taking an opportunity to laugh at their boss who was usually a very dangerous and volatile man. “It’s a funny show alright, and I’m a happily married man. Marriage is fuckin boring, wait until you get married you’ll find out.”

“I’ll at least pick a better show,” I said smiling, I knew that was enough before I would get beaten to death with a blunt object. My Uncle was less of a tyrant and more of a criminal with a bad temper, nothing more. We weren’t dealing in millions in our little group, sure we were worth five or six million but that was as a whole. We owned three clubs, had monopolized the red light district and had a decent share in the drug game. We sold a lot of Black Tar and some coke. I put my life in jeopardy everyday even working with my uncle, but it didn’t worry me to much. I almost wanted to lose my life, because I really didn’t care about myself. Not at all actually, it was always Survival and Sephrina on my mind. I had been through so much I felt like an old man.

“Listen I got to tell you something, I got a job for you kid,” said Uncle Karol after all the laughter and joy had ceased. I knew it was something big, I could just tell by his facial expression. “I want you go and visit that kid, Mason to help him move some crates. The weight has been heavy for some time and I think it’s about time that we gave him a quick hand.”

My uncle was using code, what he really said was go fucking kill Mason. Mason one of my Uncles Dealers; he had suspected for the longest time that he had been lying about getting robbed on the way to pay up. My Uncle was old school, basically if you crossed him and cheated him out of a somewhat significant sum of money you bet your life. Back in the day he’d personally kill you, but he was getting much older.

I nodded my head and he patted my shoulder. “I’ll head out in a couple of hours, but do me a favor Uncle.”

“Anything for my favorite Nephew!” he exclaimed smiling. He must have been really pleased that I actually accepted the job.

“Get some guys looking out for Sephrina; ask some of the right questions to the right people. Maybe even put some money on the street, the fiends will give her up quick. Ya know I’d pay you back and all that.”

“Done, you don’t even have to worry kid, I know you will because she is your sister for Christ sake but her wellbeing is in good hands. I’ll put my best guys on it,” he said shaking my hand and patting my shoulder. My Uncle always kept his word no matter what. When I left the Deli, my fear had switched from not finding my sister to going back to where it all started.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Color Red

Submission Poems

Take a Minute

The solemn aggression and pain of lonely nights, the darkness and disputes shine upon city lights

I sway in the wind as the feeling of doom creeps in despite all the advantages of a perpetuating preconceived desires and barren roads that seem to never end

They say I’m kidding but it’s a fact, it’s a stereotype of the prejudice that’s built to react

My past influences the way I act

The messages from society shield wondrous dreams, and I’m beginning to waste away it seems, and if you don’t help me now ill fade away in the misery Day in Day out

Misery finds a home it always does, a problem evolves from me to us, and if looks could kill I’d bury your trust

I’d always had my heart in hand, I always said if the tide rose I’d stand, maybe I’m just not god’s man

As times passes so quick, in motion my life makes me sick, and you remind me of all the things that were ever said by knowing me when my face was plastered red

Controlling each impulse and feeling with empty meds, and the tribulation of being hungry and having yet to be fed no, because sometimes I feel like I’m going to just drop dead

It’s the nights I loathe and the daylight I dread, I’m wasting away in bed, the feeling is beginning to spread and I’m fading, I’m fading Day In, Day Out, Day In, Day Out

Smash the window resulting in bloody knees, disgusting fiends waiting for the itch to cease

The moments of day when I struggle to breath, delaying celebrations because I’m trying to prove to myself that I still even believe

And, I remember so clearly the days I slit my wrist, I remember so clearly all the risks I took to exist

To abort an idea and watch it wheeze, set fire to the world, hopes and bars

My mind is becoming an exhibition that transcends dimensions for tradition, just so I can have faster cars, sometimes I think there is a moon man and I’m living on mars

And no I’m not gonna shot for the stars again, fall from the sky and die breathing in air I used to rely in

Day in, Day Out, the reality never speaks it shouts, Day in, Day Out, Day In Out, but I don’t want to fade away, I don’t want to leave this world today

There is a memory so stand still, Take a Minute prior to pulling the trigger because now I’ve got a view to a kill

I was promised good things that end, and I always knew they would

I tried to conquer this world, and even as I falter I know I still could

So many perfect shapes, how do I compete? Truth is what you perceive but depending on how much you believe will raise the limits on all that you receive.

I’m looking at the quiet sky again, and I’m looking at a close up of the past on New Year’s Eve, the silence holds aggression that builds belief, like blasphemy and grace creating a new me yeah

Day creeps and night tends, I’ve got the devil inside yet I ascend, and I blend animosity like it’s a trend, nutrition for a theory fueling hypocrisy, with hate so far the eye can’t see

And it’s the times of the night that remind, that if it wasn’t for the hate I couldn’t be me, the evil entity

Have you been able to pontificate about dark days and bright nights that we’ve got, making magic out of the illusions of the people in which we are not

I can’t think straight, the pain must stop, because if I stay to off balance I’ll drop These are the days when a father is needed by his son

I need someone to pick up the pieces instead of turning around to run, I need a clearer vision of the sun, because some days I feel like a big mistake, and then others like the chosen one, these are the days when I’m reminded how I was born by the knife and will live by a gun

This teenage minacity is less innocent then a stroll on the city, or the brutality of the town without pity, revenge and repent, tragedy of the years of doves and mud, and the present terror of the past blood

Stuck in my mind, its Day in Day out, stuck in design, the fear, the terror I can’t speak much clearer

Because the chills become sincerer, its Day in Day Out, the place more lights to shine on my drought

I don’t want to drown or burn away, I want to rise above and howl what I’ve got to say, without delay I want all of hell to pay before I fade away. It’s the glimpse of hope, misery of gleams, Day In Day Out its not what it seems

 

 

 

Spread Your Wings

Free fall to the top just to spread my wings at the peak of the Earth

I throw my head to the roof; I plaster the image of the past with everything I’ve got

Born closest to the edge, I’d tear through gravity before letting go of this ledge

I tear through my shirt, with each and every breath

I’m blessed to be driven, to set fire to the misconception that celebrity can be given

Turn your head but don’t look back forgiving

This and that, whether they are triggers that are living or the epitome of synonyms for personal business Turned down for the gates of heaven, the fallen angels cowered to the future I stared upon collecting knives at eleven

Free fall to the top just to spread my wings at the top of the Earth

They chant my name tonight, it’s been so many years and I’m going to grab life by the throat and make things right

A sickness is spreading so let’s hold hands and prepare to fight the good fight, we will always do it for serenity, light and I’ll always love you until this world ends, way before the time frame bent and a signal had been sent

I want the clock to begin, I want to see winter freeze and hear my Honeybee sing

If the city doesn’t like it then why do they bounce around to the combination of carving scriptures and bending sounds?

I ascend to Earth, navigating my way since the day of birth

Free falling with a smile all the way to the top

Surrounded by cheap gifts and absence dressed up just to burn and rot

I can still love, I love a lot

It’s calming to know, that through chilling winters a pattern can still flow

Silent moments for cracked motion, an excuse to burn temples and force the life stream into crazed commotion

I stare into the fire, and then looked into the secret in their eyes

Nobody could hear it, but I heard the cries

I was fed the lies

I tried, but he screamed because he was to human to live like that, so now I live like this and I found out that its peace that’s bliss

To stun the world with the spread of your wings, is more important the scars on your wrist

So we free fall in art,

Questioning, does an end have a start?

The answer to all questions is to believe in a heart, and spread your wings and fly so far because you’re strong

It’s easier to show you’re right then prove that you’re wrong

I dedicate and wrote a song, to rewrite the fall and blossom before them all

 

Isolation

Isolation, Isolation, Isolation

Oh, I wish you see all this beauty, i wish this tear painted a picture of light, I wish i knew who i am, I wish i was alright

Haunted by Self-Reservation, Curious beyond all the lies, someone go help that poor baby, i cant take listening to him cry, without love he surely will die

I grew plants in Isolation, I taught it everything it knows, confused by its transformation, its hideous beyond its wildest imagination, it regains power quicker then I

I picked skin in Isolation, to balance my sick mind. I dreamed of blue lakes and the sky, but i loathed all of mankind

If I prayed to loud they would beat me, so it was hard to remember my lines

These walls were made out of memories, so many i couldnt recall. So I began to rewrite the bible, Revelations didnt match an inevitable fal

I thought about all my friends all throughout the world, to balance my lonely thoughts

I wanted to go and see them, but if I did id surely be caught

Isolation was the uglist cell, but view wasnt really to bad. They teased me with laughter and games, to keep us so damn sad

The walls whispered of a riot, i believed on true, If I met my maker, i’d beat him until he was blue, but the chaos in isolation, came when the moon was blue

The spirits howled and screamed, as my sentence came to an end. My body was so weak that i could barely stand

I hugged the walls like my mother, i wanted to conquer the land

They hit me until i moved, but i stood where i would stand…

 

Trauma and Poetry
I always questioned the authenticity of the world’s philosophy, my poetics earned praise for the way I kept spitting these, so will this be my 21st century Iliad or carefully constructed animosity?

I’m dying to live, living until I die, so you wont take my life without a fight

I used to mar myself, it was lighter at night then during the day, people always asked how I was, I remained clueless as to what to say

I passed the pens, twisted reality into fantasy, got on my good foot to grab my keys

Started the ignition, I’ll keep pushing the limit until I get recognition. My flag was burnt, and as the world turned I leaned to the side, conventional art had an apparent suicide

I want to rise with my lucid glide, and smile before flexing resilience to a violent tide

Together, I’ll fly to the gray sky, but I’m to young to just…fly away

I’ll find the place where the past takes its star making role in history, forget about the trauma and its painful melody

I’m going to listen to what my heart says to me, to believe in every accomplishment, and discontinue the chapter in my psychological biography about everything in the world I hate

Keep the pace, and personify the significance of a perfect stance, kill them with kindness, so I threw my enemies a ice cream cone, extra sweet

This is when my potential and my pride meet, I realized I cant escape life so its time to evolve, so how do you like me now?

Positive over negative, I flipped the script, wrote my story backwards, non-descript words, fly through the air with fluidity like blue birds

One day I can forgive my dad for what he did to me, for now I decipher the pain, trauma and wounds into poetry, so I can show this world what it all means to me.

It’s the best therapy, and I whisper each line with crystal crisp clarity, so maybe there will be days I can go to sleep without fear in me, I’ll donate my story to charity

 

 

Rebel

My ascension will provoke anxiety but I have a shrink, chaos in the horizon but I refuse to blink, refuse to think, how I came alive after each disaster, I stay safe because my dreams preach just like a pastor

They insisted on calling me MC Socrates, for the rawest flow of the philosophy, drip dropping these and spitting so harshly that the atmosphere is due for apologies. Ophthalmology, my rhymes are college bound destined to major in astrology

I say, kill the noise I’m trying to read, about these information age gladiators conversing with me, as if I would seize the opportunity, as they mistaken the nights silence for some sort of hypocrisy, but politics had no play, no diplomatic immunity today

Just News to say, bypass the outlets and fools, fill up on vegetables especially the peas, mastered any pattern that’s in between A and Z, god locked me in my chamber but I had already stolen the key. This battle is Jr. King vs. Mini Me, do you think happiness is the antonym to my strife, I’ll die for what I believe then live a fake life

Should I climax to create the calamity, or the let everyone else balance modern laws in this world’s insanity. They set a spotlight to our flaws

They wouldn’t stop at our information so they broke our jaws

Without speech there is the greatest language, strongest cause is created out of anguish

Rhyming patterns are the infrastructure in bulk

The Rebel, through devastating storms I base my life upon with the portraits and statues I sculpt

With desperation, I wonder if I missed daylight and the birds had sung

The taste of fear, on my tongue

So I left for the area where the sky was blue, deceived them enough to believe I was from the Metro area of Timbuktu

My holy grail was a picture of something inappropriate I drew

People acted like I spoke in tongues, they feared my scars, frowned as I put smoke in my lungs

I felt like I wanted to declare war on the young

Wondering if this is why the politicians need so many guns! Pleaded with a plot, I observed my life all day

I had epic conservations with big words, because I had nothing to say

The music was the same old melody and even that wouldn’t play

How can I live defeated by my own constitution, I blamed my problems on the new pollution

I wanted to grow wings, and be part of a spiritual revolution

I hate people who wear their sun glasses because they think they are so bright

Never understand censoring the violence when every day I live it

I acted tough, tried to try, each day was another reason to die

Still judged as an outcast of my family, my mind was no longer parallel to my sanity

I entertained therapists with my calamity

Spat volatile and unnecessary amounts of profanity

Depression tried to kill me, not with one assassin, but the whole fleet

When I lost, it wasn’t the defeat but the purpose; I had an army and all of its analogies at my feet

I never paused, I’d never retreat

How should I end this, put my life on repeat?

Fast forward the nonsense, and find something to keep

 

 

As I Crepitate

Why do you need actions, when you’ve got words, the business calls for messenger birds so the volume of my talent will be turned up loud to be heard.

I built a kingdom out of my emotion, empire from platinum devotion, the horizon is clear, but dont show support to the transcendent, I have a gold bracelet that hangs near the slit on my wrist, the pen in my hand is my pendent. So when i took out my enemy, i put on my mask. Sip rage from a old rusty flask, are you offended when im indecent, or when i cause promiscuous syllables to connect. They used protection for sex, but never for their neck.

Diamonds arent forever, neither is ability, god is a sheep to my new facility, Time will tell whether my book will kill me, commit the act, slit my wrist, ill sterilize the wound with my piss. I wouldnt want my name to be infected, Jr. King will probably die before im twenty, the endeavor of my suicide note will be good and plenty, kind of funny, bestseller, tear jerker like ol’ yeller. Hopefully you wont have to see, the gruesome end that may become of me. I carved constellations on my arm as a giddy sign, i was supposed to wait my learn as the hypocrite snorted up the line

My hand keeps shaking, my house is godforsaken, burning and i contemplated life as the doom is concerning. Light switched, my hand twitched, as i watched a wrestling match. Masculinity, i matched it with a mild obscenity, you say my skill is just ok then i invite you to my world, come and see. I vomit potential, shit brilliance, everybody i talk to lives in the delusional world where everyday there will be an opportunity thats new, I destroy paper and trace back the Sesame Street Reject that you blew. I had an emotional coup, regret of a drunken tattoo, i keep repeating do or die, but i cant decide what to do!

The damned rage you never heard me spew, the constant fear always grew, as i look at the very perfection of you. Im hateful, im very raw, set fire to anything positive, This is War. I picked the wrong door, but my masterpiece has the class of Roger Moore. But im a bum, nobody joined my event, because im a bum. If i could get more, id bend over, eat leftovers, do a striptease, if it would warrant change, id bake a cake a say pretty please. I could open my stomach, do a dog trick, watch a Ron Howard Flick, Im so hurt, im so sick

Ill harmonize with hell, mean Nasty, dastardly, my interpretation of william tell would never sell. I climbed so high to overcome, now to see im still a bum. Schizophrenic whispers into my ear drum, im not mentally ill its just these pills, im not a sadist, but this words will kill. Writing obscenities into poems because i lost my dignity, I harm myself almost every night…because i lost my my identity, I dug myself a grave at the Red Cross, to signify that I gave. The world play of that boy Anthony Day, began with Daddy’s Gone, then it evolved to a lovelorn plea for somebody to baby me. My mom and Dad argue, it makes me laugh, Im doing a Musical of Cannibal holucast, so ill open my mouth and you can insert the staff, I want to shoot for the moon, but im sure its to soon, ill get lost. Ill damage a house, then have to figure out how much it will cost. I burn their house, bricks to toss, go to Jail, my cellmate and I will play Who’s the Boss! I want to Finally finish my masterpiece to Crepitate, graffiti and symbols are signs of the jungle, ill stay nimble. Decimate, Destroy, Let me to prove to you that ill never find joy, ill live and die as this cold hearted bitchy Boy

Lovely Lady
I ghost wrote in solitude, between the lines of the cruel melody, to simplify all the strange sounds and the compassion that some assholes lack. You are my Lovely Lady i bought the sun and stars together, but it wasnt brighter then your smile, im in love but i held in emotions as I drowned in the river of denile.

My lovely lady, my crown jewel, my everlasting baby. When i uttered your name, my heart floated with the birds and the bees in harmony. There are foreign languages, road blocks, if there are predators, Im the fox. The past is whirlwind that decimates us so fast, and i cry, then im struck with the revelation that in you i can rely.

I held her hand, this lovely girl, i had searched high and low, now there is a future to sew, I found a pearl. A sweet reminder that there is love in the world. Ill never lose you, so hold my hand, when fear commands the end, hold my hand, as tribulation gives a demand, hold my hand. Ill hold so tight, your lovely hand in mine, to take you away would be a hell of a fight

Lovely Lady, this beautiful young lady has the strength to bring light upon the shady. I cried when i wrote this ode, to a crystal ball, the future, a blooming flower, Seconds turn into hours.

HEART

The City is a symphony, the flows in perfect symmetry

Towers over a modern commonwealth, I wander in my dreams

About instrumental lifestyle in our life stream

The Clouds applaud as birds chirp, and my ideas scream

I dreamt so far away, rain poured but I felt the light of Day

I hold on, as my fingers grace the sky

The mist and fantasy was a nurturing lie

Angst tends to my head; I only hear what was said in the past

Trees grow as the time flows fast

Shooting stars emulate a surprise, gorgeous like my Love’s eyes

I cry so hard my chest is numb, but my dreams are becoming reality

My Day will come, winds whistles, sea shells hum

We are architects of our environment, marching to a war drum

These are times of peace, so let me ease into the vibes that are meaningful to me

If I hurt you I’m sorry, if you hurt me then I forgive

Tears grace my cheek because I’m ready to live

If I’m a star, you were always the moon

The party has been on; my mind inflates to the tune of a balloon

It might pop, maybe soon?

Divided by the dark, silenced by the light

Only I know my might, and the feeling I head at the dead of the night

She set my World on Fire, and put out the flame

Damn it, I am not Afraid, I will rise again

I have the propensity, of authentic dream and wonder

Soft horizons and furious thunder

In the middle of the morning, I realized I was looking for you all night

When you believe, you have that feeling that can’t fade

Life for me is more than getting paid, laid, and customized

Life,

Tore me apart

Left me in the Cold

Withering away in frost

Day after Day, Night after Night, I recover pieces of what I lost

Day after Day, Night after Night

The Statement

We are the products of an conglomerate that fight and bicker, success is an percentage that we’re left to go figure. I did thousands of curls over the years to feel bigger, while i have disease and animosity flowing through my liver. Im dying, i want to die quicker but i cant because my future assures top shelf liquor

I found diamonds and colors to decorate these lies, nobody is listening so why should I cry. This world is bleak, ive grown tired of it but it wont let me sleep. He’s got bullets in his stomach to save and keep, while his lover whines with her small sheep. This poem is the product of a hateful boy’s sigh, a mere proclamation before the genocide, I wanted to die but god is going to make suffer through years of suicide. I swerve on and off a straight line, as the morals i once held so high, decline. They say at least you tried, as i sprinkled my carelessness with diamonds from aparthied. This the statement, do or die.

People can smoke weed and plant their seed, im intoxicated on the roadkill that they leave. Have a romantic dinner with a stipulation, or stay tipsy with low confidence on the festive nights of New Years Eve. I tried to rearrange the stars, life was sweet because i relied on candy bars, starstruck by flashy cars, aspirations to be a writer were polluted by a dream to big, that there would be a time where i could be a kid. This is a blase production, hey my name is Anthony! This is my introduction. I threw my life into a dirty hole that went on forever, grueling like a glimpse of my endeavor, arteries of actuality severed. The offspring of an eclipse, im a little bitch, uploading a picture on facebook as i shake my hips. Im not Gladys, im still the pips. This is the way it goes down, after i spit in their face there is a piano solo, followed by a clown. Ill probably be killed but you wont her a sound, because ive been praying for plagues througout the night in a black gown. The sweaty palms revealed my anxious qualms, but like any preaching zealot i read the passage like it was the Nagasaki bomb. Place my insecurities into a line from psalms, god screwed me so hard i adjusted my lip balm. But remain calm, reality is the underwear of the underling crawling beneath my wing, ive only got one more paragraph of blasphemy to sing.

I painted a thesis, co-wrote the same symphony, but this time i let my dark half take the wheel to avoid the road or a epiphany. I’d prefer a crash, then the poetic lash of a slavemasters slash. Id like to get happy memories but all i have is cash. 45 magnum pencil, im hardcore, they reposessed my life but i promise im not poor. We fled the scene I had created, the doctor gave me pills that left my mercy sedated, so we will find your god and make sure your expiration date isnt outdated, we wouldnt you to be relocated. HoneyBunny, i love you so, you will always be in my heart, transcending friend or foe. But yo, ive got no melody like All Time Low, been brought down to Deaths Valley by an Average Joe, dont tell the Board of Education, but im fastidious not slow, my ego altered by a corporations low blow. Ive guess ive got Glory to sew…

 

Do or Die

I teemed with Inspirations, Jr. King created the Team of Leaders. Our words are decidant in wife beaters, while the bar us set so high, these days the monsters half step while the new generation calls in the bets. The captains feel the crunch, the business is out to lunch, our craft was created straight from the roots of the milieu with enough persistance to kill you while staying calm, i leaned over to light my passion ftom the flames of an H-Bomb

The old takes from the new, thats why their verbatim sounds like something we grew. There is nothing redeeming about these youth, they dont need sauce to eat your face, and when the law persists they stay silent with style and grace. This is monoply, we role the dice just to keep going, my ma was robbed in a vicious way. Should I wear a suit and tie, to cover my scars as the ignorance starts to multiply. The misconception is when you do something wrong you die, is that why my race is haunted by Trayvons cry? Or when our dividend falls short again and again, should we riot or discuss the weather with a politician, because i see storm clouds and im struck, because there is no god, just luck

The man on the moon yelled Do or Die, but Im still to sick with skill to listen, ive been over the hill and oh lord im ill, suffering from symptoms of my philosophy, and I still vomit when surrounded by mediocrity. Sing to the Truth, Sing to a cry, because i cant take it anymore. Jr. King’s a savage, but these arent times of war. We celebrate peace, however our insecurities endorsed and advertised, like we are the undesirable beast. Its end of the lies, we can come together and fight. There isnt anything to occupy, but there is light to shine, so lets shine it bright. Its positive over negative, right?

 

This Misery

Ive got time to kill, dollar bills, try to get rid of a mountain that clings to the hills
Cheap thrills when the coincidence builds, try to sustain the mind with over the counter pills
Burning buildings, boiling points, chaos
Loud voices, heated exchange, beginning to believe in these payoffs

Misery for the degenerate, more love in the pain if your going to hurt me let me feel it
Let me rise in front of ruby eyes, patronize my endeavors with diamond lies
Break my knuckles to blow off steam, I’m seeing to much red to believe in me
Long nights, bloody fights, paint a picture of the chaos
Clinched fists, death list and that corner in shame and blame city
Pure mourning, Pure misery
Ive got to many wounds to believe in your serendipity

I need a light to ignite my flame
A reason for this world to remember my name
I said I’d play the game, but never fairly
I carry myself to enlightenment with people staring
Shoot for the moon, couldnt leave the ground
I shot further when else was around, defying sound
I did it
Nothing changed, I was livid
Blank spaces, peculiar cases, Its all in my periphery
I shot for the stars but didnt escape the misery

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Bottom of Form 1

Actions speak loud, but words can be amplified

 

We expected some kind of night today, rats in the alley won’t integrate

Pleasure of the night locked away, worship an epoch ignore reality

Wont serenade

Watching the night catch fire with a pair of new shades

It’s the bombs of the past that make us pontificate

Its corporate skylines and sealed doors that keep us in place

Ticking time bomb, time to start the race

 

I’ll tell you about rats in the alley to calculate

Placebo is the isle as sunset waits, for the world to adjust to oversized cities

Actions speak loud, but words can be amplified

I fell into the mud but at least I tired, the moon is revealing the time and I can’t breath

There are a thousand great things coming this way, but society really messed up today

 

Blasphemy is painted on the pictures of life, integrity is being held down by a knife

Rats in the alley won’t leave and they’re desperate

Holding onto the problem like a surrogate, process the information and we won’t chase it down

They can’t control what we say, as they turn into protesting vibrant sounds

Burning towns, wishing that the echo wasn’t around

Howling trees, a gust of wind whispering to me

The racing rats march as they flee

The highway is full and they stare like enemies

The walls are building with a propensity

They are imposters, this isn’t the world’s entity

The rats are running with divinity

 

The beaches are covered with regret and lost hope

Delve deep into the bright city to find treasure and elegant lights

Breakdown to cope, but the skyscrapers suggest rebuilding

The buildings prove there is no god, so we just go on believing in luck

This is a bleak existence as the city approaches a black hole

They made the gun, but we made the goal

We’d do anything to see the sun

 

 

 

 

Just to Live

 

I think you’ve got the big picture

I’ve got no real future

This is a house of cards and a world of whores

I lost myself before I could begin and its killing me

 

I’ve been trying to find my way uptown but I realized Life is a sadistic game, nothing more

I became part of a statistic, as society cleaned up the mess of the boy who went ballistic

Wrap your arms around me, this is an open relationship

And we live under the sun

And below the blue moon

But we can’t run yet

What do we live for when our lives come crumbling down

Subliminal pleasure and deafening sounds

But you’ve got the picture, I’ve got no future

 

When she knocked me over, I restarted my verse

She sprouted chauvinistic

So what do I say first?

I love you please so adopt my emotions and help me fight the curse

To be Alive, to Scream

 

I don’t want to lose myself twice so take me to the enemy so demise can end tragically

I lived my life, emphatically

Where you in the glee inside my hearse

Your lashing was the worse
I was satisfied but focused on being better than everyone else, wanting to discover the distance between you and me

Patiently waiting for this to be a joke because my life was being lived inside you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Please don’t kill the hype because I already murdered the vibe

I’m red dead and sick of the dark, so let’s brighten up the night but don’t make it to violent

Let’s kill the whole lot and disturb the silence

Painted Red, let’s paint it red and let’s burn down the trees

Spray down the ground with blood but not guts

We keep it red dead in the center between hate and hell

Between William and Tell, between masters

I can’t even describe the smell

The floor is sticky littered to flip the lid

My rights are relevant from jealousy from a higher bid

My sky is ugly and if you see it you should run

I am the product of a sword or a gun