In memory of Joey…
So I once wrote a piece called “fourteen”
Some of you read it
About the death of my friend
When I was young
And how it changed everything for me early on
I’ve been thinking of him today
And.. I was reminded of this story
It was 1988
Me
Joey
And Chris
We had our entire lives in front of us
But who really cared about that crap right now
We were too busy being country boys
Hunting
Fishing
Shooting guns
Listening to music
Playing football and baseball
Laughing and pranking each other
Sneaking in and out of the neighborhood girls’ bedroom windows late at night
While the oblivious moms and dads slept quiet.. and cold… back to back…
Raiding the liquor cabinet of my friend April’s dad
Filling the bottles back up with tea or water
Or whatever the hell we could find
Life was sweet
Alive…………………………………………………..`.°~
Intoxicating
Feels so long ago
And now it’s just these words
One day.. the three of us decided to buy some Indian ink from the local drug store
And give each other tattoos
We were great at many things
However
Drawing with a dipped sewing needle was not one of them.. haha
We secured the ink and the needle
Yes…
One needle…
For all three of us…
We didn’t care about disease back then
We were blood brothers anyway
So we ventured way back into the woods along a creek we frequented
There was a huge fallen oak tree across the water
Forming a natural bridge
This was our favorite hangout spot
We also fished the creek often
Mostly after school and on the weekends
Those woods…
We knew them well
The three of us spent a lot of our lives there
So we sat together on that tree bridge
Joey was first up for the ink
He was the brave one
The cool one
The leader
After all
It was his idea
He picked me to be the one to permanently eff his skin up for life…
I was nervous
I didn’t really want to do it
Stop being a pussy Bryan
Ok…
I got this
Give me the ink and the needle and stfu
Watch and learn fellas
So I proceeded
I put the needle to his back
And gave him his initials… J. T.
He also wanted a cross
And so I did…
And I have to say
It looked pretty badass
For what I had to work with
Not bad at all
What a relief…
But when my turn came
I don’t know what the hell came over me
I became afraid
Not only of the pain
But of the forever of it
If this is going to be on me for life
Then I want it to look good
Not some black chicken-scratch bullshit.. I have to stare at forever
The fear got me
And I didn’t go through with it
So we wrapped up the ink and the needle
Placed it in a little wooden box
And hid it inside a hollowed-out dead tree
Then we went home
And I caught hell from them the whole way back…
For chickening out…
And I did feel bad
Like I broke our bro code
Like I let my crew down
That was one of the last times I ever saw Joey alive…
The next time
Was when I stood over his casket at the funeral
A few months went by…
One night I was in my room playing my guitar late…
And I caught his spirit…
I felt his presence…
I don’t really have words for it
But I was so moved by it…
That I grabbed a flashlight
Climbed quietly out my bedroom window
So I wouldn’t wake anyone
Went into the woods
Retrieved the wooden box with the ink and the needle
Made it back to my room
Sat on my bed
And gave myself a small cross tattoo on my arm…
In memory of my friend…
Late that night… the ink finally meant something…
…….↑≠◇→~✿✿~→✖→✖→✖’
Fragments of Loia 