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As our house burned to the ground, I can recall my mother running around in a panic. She tried to gather my sister and I as the flames raced toward the furniture. Dark, think smoke filled the room as the burning items were engulfed in flames. You could hear the sounds of sirens from afar. My mother held us tight in her arms as tears rolled down her face. We stood outside of the apartment building as the flames grew thinker and larger...... So many memories flow in and out of my mind like short movie clips as I lie here, in this hollow grave.

Annie was my mother by definitions; she lacked the gift of parental guidance and motherly affection. She was known in the streets as Queen. She ran drugs for all the b-boys in the neighborhood. She had a gift for hustling, and they knew she would do anything to feed her habit

Hank was the gangster love of my life. He was bold, arrogant and confident. He took what he wanted, from whoever he wanted, including me. My relationships with Hank and Annie can best described as a journey through hell and back, twice