I was listening to whiskey lullaby and realized it was about a women cheating on her man… and how he died. And that she regretted it and joins him in death. It’s a romantic thought but false. The woman would go on looking for the next Chad.

Alpha beta sigma omega …. What the fuck ever label people come up with here is some horsehit my sons… we are men, deeply emotional, deeply accountable …. Without us boys grow up without mentors and girls grow up without hero’s. We, the male of our species, are the difference between drugs, whorish behavior, and a life of fulfillment.

My sons I grow old now in my senior days. I am far closer to the grave than the cradle. You are my sons in whom I am proud. I raised three boys and cast them into the universe with the lessons I could teach them. And now you my son are in need….

You might think you are less than. You are not. You are my son. No matter your race, your financial status … you are my son.

Put the bottle down. Put the gun down my son. I once embraced both myself and now I pause and tell you, you must be… you must live my son… if not for yourself then be for me… hold on because I need you to hold on for me…. Hold on… I love you my son… hold on

Survive my son…. Today put it down. And make me proud by breathing …. Your life alone is enough. Your life my son is precious to me. My son in whom I am well pleased.

You just being, you just existing, gives me value….

My son just be. Just… Be. My son.