Something Different… In Your Own Words… Special Guest…

Untitled (Perspective In The Infinite…)
By: Unnamed Special Guest

I choke with every breath of air
It stands still and it tastes stale
I cringe at all the sounds of life
They shake my bones and make them frail
I find it harder everyday to keep the things
That make me care

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and very loud

Every breath a gasp and blink a weep
It feels easier to let the dark creep
Into my mind and let it drain
Into my veins so they seep

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and very loud

I think of final vitals, it wanders through my mind
It sends a lovely shiver up and into my spine
These thoughts and feelings never subside
I wish that I could have a hole
A place to hide, my last home

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and way too loud

I’ll find a way to make it end
Not by conclusion, but my own hand
Take the illusion, the one I had
Erase it all, now its not so bad

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and way too loud

I’ve been wanting to post this for awhile… the statement behind… rings very true… I didn’t write this in case you missed the by line… I did name it as it was presented to me as Untitled… I enjoy titles… Overall I enjoyed this whole poem… things that stuck out to me though… was the reference to The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath… If you have yet to read the one and only novel by Plath… I highly suggest you do… It is heart breaking and amazing… similar to how I feel about this poem…

The writer… deals with depression on a daily basis… I know a lot of us here suffer from something similar… I also know that a lot of us feel as though it is only us… it would be nice if none of us had to ever feel depression at all… but it is also nice to know we are not alone in this… That’s what I enjoyed the most about this poem… the perspective…

When There’s No More Room… Part 8…

A Pattern of Abuse

“Try again. Sound out the words,” his mother says holding back her frustration. “I know it can be difficult to read, but you have to learn.” She rubs the top of his head. The little boy looks over the page studying the images first and then the words. “The boy ex, escaped through the fa, fa,” he stops as a hand smacks him hard against his head. “Fire you dumb shit. It says fire,” his father barks. “Damn it James he was only trying to sound out the word,” his mother pleads. “Stupid doesn’t know how to read fire?” His father asks before taking another drink. “I ain’t raising no dumb illiterate asshole in this house. He ain’t going to add up to shit any way, but if he can’t read? Be even more worthless than he already is. Can’t be slow, fat, and stupid,” his father argues. “You are one to speak. You can barely,” his mother doesn’t finish the sentence as his father raises his hand. Tears begin to form in the boy’s eyes. “That’s right woman. Know your place,” his father says before finishing off his drink. The boy fights the urge to cry. He knows better than to show weakness. Fights even harder to not let his father see. “Are you crying?” His father asks. The boy tries even harder to make the emotions stop by looking down away from his father. His father grabs him by the back of the neck, “Those look like tears to me. I asked you a question. Are you crying?” Tears fall from the boy’s eyes. “No,” the boy yells. His father’s eyes light up. The spark that he needed. “James don’t. He didn’t mean it,” his mother pleads. “Bitch unless you want to be taught a lesson yourself I suggest you shut the fuck up and get me another drink.” His mother walks out of the room as the hand around his neck squeezes to the point he can barely breathe. “You don’t talk to me like that you little shit. Even got your mother acting stupid. Must be some kind of sickness going around here. Best to stomp this sickness right out before it spreads any further.”

James drags his son by the neck out of the room and down the basement stairs, “First you can’t even read. Now all of a sudden you the big man with the balls to talk to your father like that. You want to cry like a baby? We don’t cry in this family. You want to be a man? Act like one.” James throws his son against the cage across from the basement stairs. The boy’s body lands against the cage with a loud crash. Grabbing his side the boy cries harder as he lay against the dirt floor. “Get in the cage,” his father orders. Kicking the child in the back, “I said get in the cage. What are you deaf and dumb now? Don’t act like you don’t know what is happening.” The boy shakes in fear as he enters the cage. The cage door slams hard behind him as he falls to the dirty floor of the cage. Torn up bits of clothing and old rotten food surround him as he fights the pain in his side. Fights to breathe. Fight the urge to scream. He can no longer take it as he hears the familiar sound of his father picking up the old iron rod. He wails in pain and frustration as he knows what comes next.

“Strip,” his father orders. “I don’t want to,” the boy expels in broken words and snot. “Sorry what was that?” His father mocks. Striking the side of the cage with the iron rod, “Don’t you make me ask twice? No use in fucking up your clothes over your stupidity, but don’t think I won’t.” His father walks over to the furnace and opens the door. The boy does as he was told. The fire burning inside lights up the room. His father places the end of the rod in the fire before asking, “Are you sorry?” Too afraid to move, too afraid to see the boy lays there. “Are you or are you not sorry?” His father asks. “Yes,” the boy shouts. “I want to hear you say it,” his father demands. The iron rod heats up. The boy sits up and grabbing the side of the cage, “I’m sorry father.” His father stands there with his back facing him. Doesn’t even bother to look him. Only stares at the end of the iron bar in the fire,” I don’t believe you.”

“So this pattern of abuse went on for years?” The doctor asks. The young man nods to the question. “Why not report it to anyone?” The doctor asks. “To who?” He asks right back. Writing some notes down the doctor studies the young man’s body language. “Tell me Steven did it feel good doing what you did? Getting your revenge? Was it worth it?” The Doctor asks. “No, not really. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t enjoy it the way that he did,” Steven says. “Odd because I don’t believe you,” the doctor smiles. Steven smiles back. “It did feel good shoving that hot iron rod right up his ass. Should have heard the way he screamed. The way he cried like a little baby until his last breathe. I didn’t enjoy the beginning but the end? It was too bad that it couldn’t have happened sooner. But we all learn a lesson in the end I suppose,” Steven rubs the scars on his side over his hospital gown.

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Right Now… And Five Minutes After… Okay Maybe Longer…

On My Desk Right Now

  1. Reciprocating Saw
  2. Mix of ash and saw dust
  3. Stacks of papers
  4. Ash Tray (Don’t smoke…)
  5. Lego building
  6. Pens and pencils
  7. Lemonade (The drink… not the person or Sprite)
  8. Speaker (Playing Feel Good Hit of the Summer by Queens of the Stone Age…)
  9. My head (Wondering… “what the fuck am I even doing?”..)

Answering a text. “Odd because so are we”… Context important only to me.

Looking over the papers. “What do I even want to do?… Write a story?… Broken Thoughts?… a poem or two?… Stare at the screen some more?… Puts head back on desk.

Daughter walks in the room. Screams at me about Ads on her knock off Minecraft game… “Fix it.” Too broke to buy the real thing… she is too young to even know how to use it… or so I think… deflects with… “I’m working”… Feeling like a shitty parent… the feeling will pass… Puts head back on desk.

Picks up lighter. (Seriously don’t smoke…) Lid catches on fire. (Too much fuel in the Zippo… Might be mentally challenged… stressing might…) Closes lid on lighter. Stares at the screen.

Thoughts in my head. I know that they are there… Big ass spider crawls across my desk. (Not Face Hugger Big… but big enough to notice…) “Do I kill it or let it live?”… try to kill it… it is too fast… lost it in the papers… no idea where it went… “Great”… Puts head back on the desk.

More texts. “Did you do what I asked?” No… feel like a shitty husband… the feeling will pass… Respond back. “I’m working”… Stares at the screen.

Instructions. Insert logo image. Insert links. Think of tags. Settle for what you already know. Schedule post. Put head back on the desk and think of something to say. Make something up if you have to.

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Sober writing is for people… who have something to say…

Let’s Keep This Party Going…

More music to shake your ass too… let’s get a little weird with this one… Same rules as last time… what comes up… comes up… : )

Queens of the Stone Age

This is about sex…. had no idea… because I’m Sick… Sick… Sick… Hack up a body and I’m like okay… talk about sex… and I’m like hold the phone… haha… yeah I’m very American… it sickens me… brings a tear… because I didn’t even grow up in America… That’s how deep these cuts lie… Crazy how much culture effects you each and every day… Oh… and I love this song…

Die Antwoord…

Speaking of… Zef all god damn day… So I don’t know if you know… but all this started and ends with music… That’s all I wanted to be… that’s what I failed at… writing is cool… I love it… but I settle for it… because the truth is… I want to be the greatest drummer of all time… that’s real… Music is my life… everything else is what it is… sadly I was born without any talent… I try… I dabble… I dream… but sadly Broken Thoughts is all I be… life if you ask me… but If I was who I wanted to be?… Fuck… I’d be the Zef American filling your head with sick ass beats… point is we all fail… embrace what is left… Broken Thoughts and all..

True Loves

This one… I find out who they were after I saw a Modest Mouse concert… (My favorite band…) to be honest I am not familiar with them at all… but I like this song… I saw some of the members open for Mouse…. It wasn’t bad… better than I could do… but not for me… I liked this though…

Machine Gun Kelly

Haha… I hated this song… but… in the end I became hooked for dumb ass reasons… MGK... isn’t my kind of shit… but I shit you not… he looks like my brother in law… He is homeless but he chose that for himself… so don’t feel bad… I don’t… asshole is living better than most people… but I still had to be like is that him?… haha… because that’s the dice life would roll for him… American all day… throw up in my mouth… still doesn’t explain everything going on over here… Capitalism details so many things that I don’t understand… basically I got hooked on this song… that’s it…

Die Antwoord….

Full circle… I ran out of songs… My daughter requested this song… that’s how much they have taken over my life… even my daughter knows what is up… This song is crazy… and long… My daughter is dancing to this song right now… between tapping out the beat… Life is crazy here… best line… pick one… this song has many… I may not have been the greatest drummer… but there is still hope for her… pushing music on to her… like I am to you… I am a dad after all… : )

Well… I had fun… hopefully you did too… music is life…

By The Way… You’ve Been Invited…

Yet to Begin

Broken hearted, lost in thought, a dreamer
This world is not what I thought it was
Seeing through the mystery
Searching through the fog that surrounds me
Dark cloud, casted shadow, shallow grave
Three feet in and all ready to begin
Working my way deeper
The abyss was never staring back at me
Always surrounding me
The walls of my prison
The home I’ve always known
Where to escape when there is nowhere to go
Questioning your line of questioning
Scratching at the walls, tearing flesh from bone, hand of broken nails
Heard it all before
Stolen ideas taken as my own
Programmable program, humanity spreads like a virus
No longer do I want to be part of your hived mind bull shit
Fitting in is nothing I ever wanted
So why does it feel, feel as though I failed
When we all know I have yet to begin

Pressure Rising

The images play out in my head
A vision of something better
This could all be
So much better
This could all be
So much more
Ignorance inherit
Value stupidity
Gave up so I could let you in
Hate myself but I blame them
This could all be
So much better
This could be
So much more
My thoughts inherit
Value selfishness
Allergic reaction to everything you are
A nightly ritual passed down
This could all be
So much better
This could all be
So much more
Harder on myself than I could ever be on you
A confession of honesty
I miss the days where I could say
These things to your face
Lonely and it’s crazy
Because this could all be
So much better
This could always have been
So much more

A return to poems… I have been saving a lot of them for submissions… hints the over abundance of Broken Thoughts… though to be fair to myself… I have a lot more Broken Thoughts… Than poems… These two were actually written last year… Last summer… Yeah I sat them for a minute… I decided to group these two together because they have an off kilter approach to the idea presented… basically they start off as one thing and end as another… pretty much where I was last year…

Were they my best ever?… probably not… at least I hope not… no matter how great something is… I want to get better… I think that is important to every day life… I accept compliments very poorly… because I want to be better… negativity hurts… feels like shit honestly… but they have always driven me to want more… hit too many times with a shovel?… maybe… or maybe it is just human nature… no one vividly remembers the time they one that award… or got that A… but you remember that time some asshole told you would be nothing… getting that F… the fear of explaining your failure to someone else…

Of course I do too… and there is only so much abuse that we can take… but if anything was “special” about me… and we are stressing special beyond its meaning here… is my ability to take all the shit thrown at me and use it to fire up my engines… yeah I’m a machine in this scenario… an old ass model… but it still works the same for the most part… haha… anyway what I mean is… people are going to give you shit… you will fail… but embrace it… fear it… but know that it is the only way to get better… don’t let it get you down… if you really want it… then it is all worth fighting for…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

When There’s No More Room… Part 7…

I noticed the way she looks at me again today. The look of a blank stare, but it is not a blank stare. It is as if she is trying to tell me something that words could never really say. I see it in her eyes. Those cold green eyes. They appear almost gray as though something is hidden in them. Ten years I have stared into these eyes. Ten years I have study this girls eyes. I have watched as she has gone from child to woman and it is as though nothing has ever changed. Ten years of failure. Ten years of silence. I’ve run every test possible. Everything in the book just to hear her speak. Electroshock therapy, two electrodes attached to her head and enough electricity to shock anyone awake. Not a god damn peep. If it wasn’t for her pulse and her eyes I would rule her dead. I fought tooth and nail to keep her after she turned eighteen. The state told me she had served her time. I argued that she still needs to server more, but like this? Was it worth it?

Her crimes though not as extensive as the others leave a lot to the imagine nation as to why. Why a child would commit such a crime? A silent hour every week for ten years and I am not any closer to finding out the answer. Her eyes dance as if she is trying to tell me something. Maybe it is a neurological condition? No, I’ve tested that and came up with nothing. She chooses not to say anything at all. Ten years and I have never heard her voice. Witness, the neighbors claim to have heard her scream awakening them from a dead sleep. A scream like a siren only to stop. Replaced with silence. Imagine my jealousy to these complete strangers. Her eyes tease me like a loaded gun. Her eyes so innocent, so green, could they really have comprehended what she had done? Could anyone?

Could anyone understand fully the act of killing their parents? Witness testified that she was often beaten. Appeared to have bruises, black eyes, cuts all over her body. Never enough to raise alarm, but enough to noticed. The scars though faint are still there. What all her parents have done is lost in her eyes, but what she did has been well documented. The simplest of them all murder. The more complex. The ones I want to know, to understand? Hidden behind those eyes. How does a child carefully remove the skin of a person? Let alone their own parents? I know surgeons.  Doctors paid to be precise every day and every time. Even they do not understand how a child could be so methodic. A pile of skin laid on the floor as she began the real work she had set out to do. As one police officer stated in their report, “The organs were laid out. Laid out on display like we had to do in basic training for our rifles. Laid there ready to be put back in if need be.”

No, a child could not understand what they have done? Or could they? The answers sit before me waiting to be discovered. No evil in sight only a blank stare. Yet she sits before me. A child capable of tearing apart her whole family. A child who shaped the bones of her parents to that of some kind of monster. A child who took the skin of her mother from the floor and wore it like a costume until the police arrived. What kind of evil truly lives behind those green eyes?  

Sorry for the late post… internet has been down… the real horror of this story if you ask me… up an running… hopefully I won’t be late on the next one…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter...

Broken Thoughts… Living Until… We Lie…

I’m fat, I’m ugly
Cutting out all the things
That make me, me
What am I  without the flaws?
I’m stupid, I’m useless
Tearing out all the things
That I believe to be
Who have I been all this time?
I’m weak, I’m disgusting
Ripping out all the things
That I allow myself to be
How could I ever justify going on?
Just do
Cutting, tearing, ripping, destroying
The very things that make me, me
Why would I ever cave?
When the demons live inside
This very skin
Where do they live, where do I begin?

It was a nervous breakdown not a redemption

Did you ever really love me
A thought I hold deep down inside
A lie you’ve told time after time
The answer has always been lost in your eyes
Tip of your tongue, between your thighs
Guilty thought I’d never let die
I will ask one more time
I need the truth
So lie to me
Did you ever really love me

“It’s not as though I’m going to cut open your asshole and stick my head in. But I might.”

You’re so quiet
The words must be behind it all
Tearing out my eyes
Don’t care if I live
Only want to die
Kisses from beneath the ground
Hugs, I’ve always been
Everything you’ve despised
The only thing that makes any sense
Is that I am the end of everything
Smiling and I will destroy
My life for your ill will
Eating your heart
Because you already took mine

All over the place today… turning in my own grave… thoughts are endless… stay in the house because if we are all afraid… then it will never go away…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter