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Snippet #2703747

located in Brooklyn, New York, a part of Dirt & Opulence, one of the many universes on RPG.

Brooklyn, New York

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bel Z. Character Portrait: Gunner Bates Character Portrait: Senna Z. Character Portrait: Dominic Bates Character Portrait: Daisy A.
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THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF A HAUNTED HOME
Image


est. December 19, 2007
Eighteen Years of Age
"Brew and bad luck lock their fingers in my territory only to bend backwards, crack, and deal."






Estoy tan casado, I can feel the fuckinā€™ bricks inbound ā€˜round my head and thereā€™s nobody that got shit to say or offer that can give me peace. Havenā€™t slept in days. Babyā€™s not supposed to leave my sight but she disappears and I donā€™t got the energy to chase her anymore. Boils my blood when she comes home smelling like daisies, but itā€™s better than her slipping locks at the back gate of the estate that blisters a name I hate most. Iā€™d fight it, but sheā€™s safe. Even when sheā€™s with that train wreck of a blanca. Por la ama. And so does god damn Daisy.

My best friend ainā€™t been my amigo but he pretended and we bruised our bones in sync like this for the entirety of our lives. What a show. But now heā€™s got all that I donā€™t and heā€™s actinā€™ so fucking strange, he ainā€™t looking familiar. Shit, after we mixed and my father was officially a closed case nothing came out. Would have expected an answer from my brother from another mother, but he kept a tight jaw. Some friend.

La familia.

The puzzle pieces are somewhere we arenā€™t thinking of to look, just like Pops, but I gottaā€™ keep it together for better or for worse ā€˜cause Iā€™m the only one the can. And I feel empty with the flackery of my impairments, nobody to scrape the streets with and tape some feet of adhesive tight to procure the dirty riches that made our small city a kingdom.

Heā€™s probably lit up. If I know anything about old Gun itā€™s that he pits himself against himself rather than anybody else ā€˜cause even in the best of times, heā€™s his own worst enemy. Wonder if heā€™s thinking like I am. How he lost more than blood and canā€™t figure out which one hurts more. Jodidamente loco, brother, Iā€™m thrown and youā€™re throwed and we ainā€™t got nothing to discuss with each other.

We ainā€™t gonnaā€™ return to the sidewalks or reefs or stash houses together. Just gonnaā€™ divide and break. Like what you done to us.

Iā€™m sittinā€™ with the curiosity of which gauge is more emphatic of my rage and if the ricochet will sound any differently than fatality. ā€˜Cause what I need it to say is te odio mĆ”s de lo que te amo, and that the only fuckinā€™ way I can forgive you is through the crucification of only the retribution I see fit.

Table it. Iā€™ll sleep. We got time, and I need a lot of it to lead my family home.