Razorblade Tears

by S.A. Cosby

didn’t seem fair for a man to mourn someone abundantly that he had loved so miserly.

“I ain’t trying make no excuses, but when you grow up around people—your aunts and uncles, your grandparents, your brothers and sisters, your friends—all of them saying things that you don’t even think about being wrong or right, you don’t put that title on yourself.

And I used to laugh at that joke because it was my granddaddy saying it. I never thought, I never had to think how somebody like you would feel about that joke. Then when I got older I stopped thinking about it, because if that joke was fucked up, then what did that say about my granddaddy? What did that say about me that I laughed at it?”

“Get that what’s normal ain’t up to me. That it don’t fucking matter who he wanted to wake up next to as long as he was waking up,”

“But good times or bad, I ain’t never lied about who I was. I ain’t never pretended to be anything but a hell-raising, whiskey-drinking, hard-loving redneck son of a bitch. Most nights I sleep like a baby. I ain’t ashamed of who I am.

Folks like to talk about revenge like it’s a righteous thing but it’s just hate in a nicer suit,” Ike said.