Broken Up Thoughts (Vulgar)

I didn’t miss this shit for a second. This can only end badly. Yet here I stand at the crossroads of 5th and shit. Give me back my time. Give me back my life, and I’ll waste it how I see fit. Laziness took hold, sunk its fangs deep, and won’t let go. I don’t care anymore even if I’m left caring. Freedom is infectious. Freedom is not an absolute. Oh, how I wish it was. Oh lord, how I wish it could be.

The blood cascades down the wall
You know you are home
When everything is comfortable
Bones line the edges of the room
You know you are home
When everything is fine
Skin drapes the furniture
You know you are home
When everything is normal

The same sad fucks show up every day. The same time. Ticking away time as though it doesn’t matter. Bull shit everyday problems progress into even more shit. Snowball effect I think it is called. Ever passing moments of life. So sick of the humdrum crap we have to deal with. Same faces populate my everyday life. Their scars scratched deep across their faces. They try to hide them but they are too obscene to stay hidden for long. Battle scorn left for dead. Left to fend for themselves in this spinning ball of shit called life. To be somewhere different, to see a whole new set of sad shit eating faces to deal with.

Tangled up in all your razor wire
Think about running
But all I know is pain
I think about what if
But all I know is disappointment
I was told everything would be fine
Now all I know has been only lies
Hold out long enough everything should be okay
Though I know on a scale from bad to worse
Everything is the same

This weeks theme I guess is bitter… I’m bitter that here in America we can’t stop lodging our heads up our asses… I write all of this a month in advance… And I feel confident that something stupid, regretful, or all around what the fuck happened this week… Am I some soothsaying witch doctor or is it only the way things are now?… A track record that is just too hard to break?… I want to be wrong… I can’t express how much I hope that I am wrong about this week… But the safe bet is that I am not… Bitter beyond belief… 

Creepy idea/thought for all the bloggers out there… As I said I write all of this in advance… Imagine if we all just disappeared…. But for the next month after the internet went on as if nothing happened… Our messages of sadness, hope, best wishes, health, beauty tips, poetry left for no one to read… creepy until you realize we do this already… So thank you for reading and/or taking the time to comment… : ) 

A Notice of Change…

It has been one crazy six months… I have been having a blast writing every month, every week, and every day for those of you have stuck with me… I will be taking the month of February off… To work on my book and to think of more exciting stories to tell you in the coming year… What that means is that I won’t be posting any new stories or blog pieces… I will be posting some of the most liked stories for the last six months, new Broken Thoughts, and Poetry though… 

This is only temporary so I can get ahead of the curve… I will still be visiting blogs, answering comments, and be around in general… So that is why I am calling it a change rather than a break… I will be back to my regular schedule for March…

Thank you so much for following, reading, commenting, and being here with me this past six months… I appreciate each and every one of you… each and every day…

Layne Ambrose
1/30/18 

 

One more thing before I go

How Ugly It Truly Is….

“Working is how life passes you by. Time itself passes you by. Relationships pass you by. It is only so long until everything passes you by and you are left with nothing or no one. There are so many aspects to this country and money seems to be the biggest one. We all have to make money no matter the culture. But what do we become when we make money our culture? We make the money match the time? Money can always be earned, but the time? Days spent unconscious as life passed by. So I can pay the bills on time, afford the drinks to keep me going, so me and mine can live the life we want to live. Which looking back was never the life we wanted to live. It wasn’t the life we dreamed about for ourselves or you. It wasn’t much of a life at all. In my opinion, life is nothing more than this ever passing time. Since as long as long as I could remember life has just been going on. Whether I was part of it or not. Whether I did the right thing or not. The amount of control and freedom you think you have is how little of both you actually have. Nothing is free. We all pay a price. Whether it is our bodies or the very soul we think we have. Listen to me rambling like the old man I have become. You didn’t come to visit me to hear the ramblings of an old man. You came here to make peace with yourself. Get right with God or whatever you kids call it these days. I’ll admit I like these visits except for your need to want to escape.”

He looks up from his phone, “Dad that’s not how it is.” He goes back to his phone. “Bullshit, you don’t think I’ve been you? Nothing you’ve done or said is anything I haven’t already done, said, or thought. The subject has changed but the words will always stay the same. Humanity is in an endless cycle. No two ways about it. The meaning of life isn’t to live it is to keep going,” I huff. “Have you been taking you Meds?” He asks the phone. “Of course I have been taking my medication. They don’t shut my brain down. If anything they amplify my mind in this useless shell of what I once was. Keep death from knocking on my door. If anything I should stop taking them. Haven’t you been listening?” Have you ever listened? My life has been wasted on this pursuit of nothingness.” I look down upon my wheelchair. Look at my broken useless body. “Here I sit telling you the same thing I was told by my father then and he was told before as well in what could be called the cycle of life. Since the dawn of time and maybe even before then. Hell for all I know the god damn animals are telling each other the same thing,” my voice raises. “Calm down. What’s the point of this speech Dad?”

“The point, the point is to not waste time. To not look back and regret the time wasted on needless things. If you are going to do something, anything, do it because you want to. Don’t do it because you are told too.” He looks up from his phone once again, “That’s not how the world works.” He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you again in a couple of weeks. Let me know if you need anything.” He hugs me as he leaves.  It bothers me to know that he does it because he is expected to. Not because he could give a damn, but it is my fault in the end. Never was there always had something. Time is a beautiful thing until you realize just how ugly it truly is.

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Staying Down

My mind is going a mile a minute
A minute a mile and I have to remember
This is only a symptom
Of something that I have created
I wish I could forget or maybe remember
Not everything has to have a reason
Heavy-handed and light-headed
I miss the days where none of this mattered
Picking my words wisely, won’t know
Which ones will be my last
Though I kind of figured
The way things are, the way they are going
It might be sooner than expected

Thoughts in My Head

When the world ends
There won’t be anything left to say we were here
But I’m sure somehow, some way
I’ll be staring at your face for all eternity
Your demon-like eyes and your poisonous thighs
Will all, but warm me by the fire
So cold I will still be, that none of this
Will ever seem like it truly exists
Trapped in a wake
Trapped in an illusion
It doesn’t need a name but
Most people call it hell
I can feel your newly developed spines
Piercing the skin, digging deeper
Your cold dead fingers latch onto my soul
I know now that you will never let go
I told myself it was okay at first
But now I wish I could cut and run
Trapped in my mind
Trapped in my head
Most people call it a nightmare
I’m left calling it home

 

You Are Cordially Invited to the Holy Union of Bailey Bigsby and Archie Spellman

A man dressed in a once crisp tuxedo is now covered in cake and blood. His rental is far from returnable which only adds to his horrible experience tonight. He stands next to a police detective that is taken down his every word about what happened this evening.  He tells the detective about how beautiful the ceremony had been. He tells him about how much fun they were having. He tells him all about how quickly it was all came to an end. Two police cars over an older lady dressed in her Sunday’s best is saying the same thing. On the other side of the parking lot, a group of friends replay the same story over and over. Some of the people are in tears and some of them are so shocked that they have resorted to the not saying a single word.

The family of the deceased is nowhere to be found hidden away from the other guests. They are the only suspects the police even have and they have nothing to do with the events today, but if the police dug lightly at the surface they would surely find plenty of motive. The police would only have to ask the father of Archie Spellman to find what it is they are looking for. Mr. Spellman wanted nothing to do with this event, to begin with, even before it became a murder scene, which is really sad because the grandkids would have truly been beautiful. But no worries for Mr. and Mrs. Spellman they have two other sons to replace the one they lost today. The same could be said of about Mr. and Mrs. Bigsby, but they lost their only daughter today not a son. To say the families were at war would be stretching it since neither family was better than middle class. Even though they are the only suspects in a crime with no real suspects they would be better suited to be seen as victims of a horrible mistake.

See their children died for no greater reason than revenge, a revenge that had nothing to do with them. No the silenced bullet that came across the other side of the cove in which they were holding the reception party was never supposed to find its way into Archie’s skull. The bullet in question was meant for an even more important man, a man whose death would have meant something. The same goes for the two shots that enter into Bailey’s neck and chest, spraying blood all over the beautifully arranged flowers and decorative tablecloths the kind with the frilly shit no one really cares about, were never hers to except either. Till death do us apart was a vow they were able to keep even if they only made it less than a few hour ago. It is rather ironic, poetic if you will considering that over half of the guests had bets on whether or not they would even make it a year. No, the bullets and the death, the blood and the pain weren’t meant for them. They were meant for the canceled wedding party. Who was lucky enough to avoid their very own deaths. After a fight, they had earlier in the week led them to cancel their very own holy union. The reception that was supposed to have taken place today was for Alexis Fife and Joseph Ashburn, and who is Joseph Ashburn?

Well, Joseph Ashburn is the only child of Detective Ashburn. The same Detective Ashburn that is currently grilling the families of the deceased when all of this has more to do with him than anyone else. See if he hadn’t tried to extort some money out of the local mafia the hit would have never been called, and none of this would have ever happened.  It is funny how life is made up of nothing but chances. Little opportunities to change everything around us. Even the ones we don’t know.  Had the couple not chosen to fill the empty spot left behind by Fife and Ashburn they could be enjoying their new life rather than the inside of a body bag. Life is funny.

All We Have Are Lies

Lately, I have been feeling as though everything is escaping me. As though life itself is nothing more than a silly, meaningless game that I have to play. Win or lose, rich or poor, but unlike a game, I can’t start over or walk away. I hate this feeling. This looming feeling of waiting to die because I have nothing else better to do. It is a waste and worst of all I know it is. Though I do nothing to change or fix the odds in my favor. If this was a game by now I would have found a way to cheat.

I’d find a way to make it all seem easier or seem more fun. In reality, though it doesn’t get better and all the fun is long gone. I’m an adult now. Any new experience is only one I’ve felt before taken to some new extreme. Any thought is only one I have repeated to myself one more damn time. All that I need to know to survive is known to me to some degree or another. I would like to think that life still has some surprise left for me, but in my heart, I know it really doesn’t. Life is what it is, and what it is, is pretty shitty.

The world is left with broken dreams and heartache. Bleak, I know. The truth often is. The truth is often the worst thing about life. It is the lies that we truly enjoy. It is lies that move us in our minds and in our lives. We would like to think that it is the opposite the other way around, but it has never been that way. Our past is made up of lies and so is our future. I’ll lie and say that isn’t all right, that isn’t the way it should be. But in truth it is alright and that is the way it is. If it wasn’t for lies most if not all of us would be dead, dying, or in the ground.

I think, I know that is why we follow a religion, false prophets, science or any other bullshit we drug ourselves with. These false promises of something better made out of lies. These things are not better. They are only the same with different surroundings. Heaven is no way to live just a lie we tell ourselves to keep going. A dream to push us to that next level, but every level is the same. Play any game it is the same. The outcome and the process, are the same.

If you want to get to where I am. Start ripping out the stitches made of lies. Pull the skin apart and realize we were all we ever needed to survive.

Broken Up Thoughts – Child Like

Things have changed. I have changed yet I am still stuck between child and adult. Gridlocked between wanting to be my own person and doing what I’m told. I’m so depressed I just feel like giving up. Child like thoughts still laced within my mind. The thoughts, the train of thought too hard to shake. The ideas burning through my mind. What’s the point in fighting if you can’t win? My life is descending into a lost cause. A hopeless excuses to wake up every morning. The slope gets steeper and steeper each day as more and more shit piles up at the top. If only I could Hide under a rock and never come out. A grave of despair. Disappear in a way that I’m still alive, but no one would even know I’m here. If only I could, I would. So sick of this and so sick of that. An endless wave of adolescent thoughts in an adult body. Need to grow up, but when and how?

We give it up
We give it all up in blood
Until we are nothing
Never enough for some or no one at all
We turn it over
We turn it over with our souls
Until we have nothing left
Never enough for most or anyone at all
We work it all
We work it all with our lives
Until it is all we are
Never enough so we come back for more

I was forced into a room full of strangers. Eight hours straight of waiting in line, on a plane, and yet another chair. Only to be placed in a place I did not know with people I don’t know. I was so lost I didn’t know what to do. Disappeared into the air. It didn’t take long before I started drinking like there was no tomorrow, and many nights I wished for the words to be true. I didn’t know what to do. I was done. Felt like a child in this adult body. Parents are entrusting in the idea that you will always be their child. They will always want you to act as one no matter what your age. I think it has to do with a self-conscious need to also feel young. To feel as though yes I am an adult, but my children are still kids so I’m not that old. Farthest from the truth. At some point the child too has to become an adult. An equal to both his or her parents and their peers. With adult needs and adult demands, and yes it is hard to let go. But is has to be done. My mother refuses to as I imagine most mothers do. It creates a conflict of interests for my generation and the last. Trapped between nothing and something. Act like an adult, but you are still a child. A sense of identity is hard to accomplish under the watch full eyes of our parents. A problem propelled by the increase of age. Life expectancy is tearing down the fabric of our society. As a child of this generation and a human being I can’t say whether I’m for or against it. I can’t lie and say I don’t need the help. At the same time I don’t want it. Feel trapped within my own skin. Ungrateful for not wanting to give in.

Wearing myself thin, dead skin mask
Stretched so tight, who am I supposed to be
If I can’t be you
Envision myself to be better
Lies I tell myself to get by
Broken boned and everything I despise
Two more days and I’ll be okay
Keep telling myself the same old shit
Hasn’t worked yet, what’s the meaning of insanity
Beating my head against the wall
Soon all the thoughts will flow out
Soon all that is wrong will be right again
Long drawn out thoughts
With no meaning at all

 

Good Times In My Head (Vulgar)

I can’t stand being here any longer. I can’t stand the control you think you have over me because you are in “charge.” Every day spent here is a waste of my time. I just want to scream in his face, but “insubordination leads to termination” or whatever the stupid ass saying is at this shit hole. The asshole in question is a ponytail wearing prick who thinks he has some form of hold over me because he is the lead. A worthless fucking title that basically means he has failed harder than me. Of course, I want the title too. If you are going to fail at least burn that mother fucker into the ground go for management. All he has over me is a need to not want to be homeless or in jail. They don’t tell you that when you are young. Follow your dreams, follow this, but don’t worry about the reality that is life. “It’s to work or it’s to jail.” All Hail by The Devil Makes Three. (That’s a real song. Check it out sometime.)

We choke down these broken ideas of a future that can’t be for everyone. If everyone got to do what they wanted why would we have war? If all it took was hard work why would anyone ever give up? Lies, jokes splashed into our young faces in hopes to grow a few flowers out of the bull shit. Reality is that most of us will only get buried in the ground. Fighting for sunlight and hoping for a chance at something. A root deeply rooted into the ground. All I know is that he is lucky.

Lucky I still drink the water or his ponytail wearing ass would be on the floor. Three hits is all it would take. One hit to the face, another for his ponytail to whip around, and him hitting the floor. If only I had enough venom to stand up to his abuse. I’d do it and laugh my ass off out of the building. Strip my clothes off and run around carrying a lighter screaming, “I am the one true God. The fire inside us all.” Turn this assault into a real show of insanity. The perception of which all of this really is. Here I am a grown man about to ask if I can go to the restroom like a fucking child. Whoever came before him must have been some twisted fuck or maybe his parents did a number on him. Either way, I don’t care if he was beaten daily as a child or made to do every horrible thing at this fucking place. At some point, you’ve got to make a stand and say enough is an enough. I’m not them and they are not me.

“Excuse me, Mr. Goodwin.” He stops stocking for a moment. “Yes,” he says in his smug fucking tone. “May I use the restroom?” I ask as calmly as a man burning alive from the inside can. “It will count as one of your breaks.” I only get two of these fucking things I think. “If you really want to waste one of your breaks on using the restroom then, by all means, go ahead.” I want to waste one of them mopping up his blood, a thought I keep to myself. The warmth of my piss takes a hold of my shorts before he can open his dumb fucking mouth again. I look him dead in the eyes, “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.” He glances at my urine-soaked crotch. He wants a child than a child he shall get. “Did you just piss yourself?” I look down at my crotch, “Looks like it.” His face is full of disgust. I don’t laugh and I don’t smile before turning away. Going back to work all I can think is I’m just grateful I didn’t have to shit.