My baby is not going to come to full term.
As was the case with the black man eating ice cream on his couch, my baby is about to receive a parabellum from a white police lady. But I don’t need you to apply pressure to the wound. I just need a hug and a Bible.
As was the case with the white lady who fell in love with a black football star, my baby is about to get its throat cut. The real killers are still out there.
As was the case of the son of man who descended upon the earth to take a crossing for the masses, this blog will bleed and die.
Exsanguinated. Good till the last drop.
I am sorry it has to end this way, but blogging about the parasite that plagues this earth is no longer any good for my soul. If you were smart enough to decipher Vague Talk, you would already know the toll it has taken.
Right now I need to drop this bad habit and find a way to do right by my family before I end up in it. The shit. The bottomless pit.