Short and to the Point

Life is a struggle no one could ever dispute that, but what if you already failed? What is life then? A constant disappointment broken into insignificant sections. Living them over and over, day after day, making it harder than it has to be. A constant drain on ever lasting thoughts. Making choices that I know will end badly. It’s not that I don’t care, but really I don’t.

I don’t see a greater outcome. I don’t see a future that I change. All I see is struggle. A struggle to be this or that, to get this or that, to be the best at anything. Even when I try to push it away all I can think is, “Is this really what I want?”

Do I want fame? Do I want people to care that I have something to say? Do I even have anything really to say? Breaking down these thoughts on paper isn’t helping either. A cross between a suicide letter and a list of complaints. Maybe all or none of this matters? All I know is that I am dying either by self infliction or by those around me. Living life has become more than a struggle but a self-imposed suffering. Broken bones and torn joints. Maybe this is all I will ever be. An after thought to a broken life.

“It Doesn’t Makes Sense.”

Our whole lives are one big advertisement. Walking billboards of bull shit. We sell ourselves only to purchase free advertisement for the next asshole.  Not ashamed but I am obviously. I can’t make my own clothes so there’s your answer without a question. A non reversible trend that just makes sense. Who knew child labor could be so useful? Every fuck but you apparently.

Feeling violent today. No idea what that really means as a pacifist. With the right set of circumstances I could bash a skull in. Feel the crushing of teeth under my boot. Impossible I know, but a great visual none the less. Brewing on a horror story as of late. Not sure if it will be a better visual story or a literal master piece. Extremely hard to write a ghost story in first person narrative without sounding repetitive and I suck at conventional writing. I can’t wrap my head around the structure without sounding like an asshole about it. Sucks being a one trick pony, but if one person could do it all than why have anyone at all?

As in introvert and an asshole I’m not sure how to answer that. Paradise is not talking to anyone ever again, so there goes that. My eyes hurt from rubbing them. I guess you could call them raw. No sleep will do that. The high life is killing me. Searching for a place in this world seems to be a constant theme in the arc that is my life. I question myself every day when I show up to my shitty job, drink my shitty energy drink, and write down my pointless thoughts.

Often I think I am destined for more, but usually on a day like today I think that this is it. I was born, raised, suffered, and lived to do this. Sometimes it makes me sad and other times I think, Could be worse. But could it? What is worse than doing nothing at all? A purpose is a reason and without one. What the hell am I doing? My own self-doubt digs my own grave. I have a problem of fighting for the things I don’t want and watching the things I do pass me by.

Own worst enemy cliché bullshit going on. A constant war within myself, fueling the self-doubt that I will be anything more than this. Nothing at all. What if what I truly want is based less on luck then I think? Doubt it but then again who am I? A constant reassurance has reassured me that I am right. I want more but I’m too afraid. Not sure of what exactly. Not sure if I’m being human or being me. Sitting on the side lines of my shitty life is getting old. I am getting old. Life is not what I thought it was. What I was told it would be. Life is what you make it, but what if you don’t know how to make it?

Happy Holiday From All of Us at Chewing On Glass

The holidays have become nothing close to what they are meant to be. An excuse to gauge another dollar, down another beer, and eat one more cholesterol dripping burger. Do we need these excuses every couple of weeks? Yes, we are that miserable in our complacent lives.

Violence used to take up most of our time. Now all we have time to do is celebrate the violence of the past. Violence seems so far away until someone says something we don’t like. How special is the motherfucker that sets you off? We are so eager to die, to feel anything, because we don’t have to any more.

The wind blows against my chest. Stroking my dick for pleasure is a sin, but putting a bullet in a strangers head on foreign land is okay under the circumstances something doesn’t seem right about this. God will forgive me as I do his bidding. He forgives all that we do. The sins are nothing more than rules. Sometimes they need to be broken, but only when serving a purpose. See how it works? Good because I don’t. Sipping a tall boy waiting for the revolution. Revelations that never seem to show up.  Patience is making it through this life.


Feel as if I’ve adopted insomnia though it is more as if insomnia adopted me. Awake or asleep doesn’t matter my mind is running. A constant over saturation of ideas that are very much independent of one another. One after the other over and over with no resolve. Who have I become and what must I do to get rid of all these wasted thoughts?

Are these things really important to me anymore? Judge each other on the idea that we know anyone. Peace in the idea that we can understand something we have no idea about. Ignorance is tolerated because we are all ignorant. There is no solution to any of this. Constantly asking ourselves, myself what is it that I know to be true? We evolve in time within our minds. Not the same person I was before I died yet I feel the same as I ever have.

Chasing a shadow in the dark. Searching for whatever it is that I have become. Monster or man what is the difference this far along? At this point in time they have become one. Not sure I’m okay, but I’ll survive. Not sure I even have or had a choice. They say we do, but they also say there is a God that makes every decision for us. Conflicting conflictions right there if you ask me. The world is evolve or die. God or man the laws are the same. Simple and complex all at the same time.

Knocking Another One Back

I read a lot. It helps recharge my writing battery? That and sucking dick. Nothing like a nice long cock going into your mouth every now and then to put some perspective in your life. Ground you back into the real world. I read a lot of comic books mostly because I like them, but also because most of the writing is in the art. I have a really hard time stealing the style of a book if it is in art form. As a writer it can be challenging because it is natural to pick up on the traits of the writer you are reading heavily. So when I am in writing mode, which seems to be always right now, I don’t read any actual books. I read comics. Problem is I am currently following way too many comics right now.

Lets count them out. I am currently reading in some form or another Black Monday Murders (Great Fucking Book), Motor Crush, Kill or Be Killed (GFB), Saga (GFB), Wicked + Divine, Deadman Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love, The Fade Out, Deadly Class, Monster Musume, Prison School, Deadpool vs Punisher, Daredevil, Bullseye, Kingpin, Punisher, Invincible, Wayward, C.O.W.L., Criminal, Redneck, Black Cloud, Horizon, The Few(GFB), Eclipse, Moon Knight, Venom, Plastic, Clean Room, Unholy, Grave Lilies, The Unbelievable Gwenpool, Spider Gwen (Side note. I’m really, like really into all this Gwen Stacy stuff and I have no reason why. I can’t recommend you read it but I know that I am not stopping anytime soon. If anything they need a whole Gwen line of comics or something. Back to the list.), El Diablo, Pretty Deadly, Love in Hell: Death Life, Rumble, Hack/Slash, Beauty, Trees, Paper Girls, and those are the ones I like.

Not going to shit on the ones I don’t like or at least not today Batman. What the fuck though with the Rebirth? Tell me DC should I trust you not to stick a rusted out pipe up my ass again like you did with the New 52? Because I don’t. With that said Red Hood for life. Oh and because I hate myself I started reading a book despite what I said about not reading a book.

Keeping My Eyes Closed and My Mouth Wide Open

The twisted knife of the world is dug deep within my back. The world isn’t black or white but a giant fucking rainbow of gray. The issues we have to face go deeper than skin color, emotions, or common sense. Most if not all of the world’s problem is our very selves. Who is to blame, what is to blame? What does it matter? They don’t argue with me and? My mind hurts trying to see how any of this even matters.

I don’t understand all this hate coming from all these holier than thou ass hats. Why the fuck do you waste your time going to church every Sunday if you are going to shit on the bible every time you open your mouth? Not only that, but in what contexts does the bible or any book even mention you will get into heaven? I can not fathom for even a second that God is letting anyone into its kingdom. The promise of religion doesn’t even make any sense to me at all. Why the fuck would someone put us on a planet to fend for ourselves with guidelines that we must follow to the letter to just get into a place that they could have put us in, in the first place? Here and now. Your actions define here and now. Not to get preachy, but religion wasn’t made to destroy one another. It was developed to unite each other in a time before laws. In a time before society existed. The farther we get from religious inception the crazier we seem to get.

5,000 or however many years ago people knew and believed that we go into the ground. Today people hope and they pray that their action however intended will get them to the front of the line. Moses, Jesus, Mohamed, Buddha, and all the others weren’t preaching about a world outside of this one. They were all speaking of the world we live in. Follow their paths to make this life better for all. Did they ever say anything about perfect? No they weren’t dumb ignorant assholes looking to destroy the world in hopes that they could have a place at the throne. To them it wasn’t about the after but the now. How could anyone take the story of Jesus turning water into wine not believe he was about having a good time? What the fuck else could you believe from that? That he was worried about anti-oxidant levels of early man.

The lord giveth the lord can take a way. The lord is an asshole that doesn’t exist. Understand that for fucks sake. Sadly even with how I feel I get it why people need religion. People need faith and that’s great. I will never say having faith is a bad thing. I’m happy for them even, but stop fucking killing, torturing, putting down people in the name of who gives a fuck. For the love of God process your sacrifice, your shame, and your hate for yourself. Stop dragging religion through the mud because you need justification. That’s not what it is here for. That is not why it needs to stick around.

Even if you are right, there is a God in the sky that is deciding every single thing on this planet. You have to see that you are wrong in your actions. This age-old question of which religion is right or wrong is getting real fucking old. It is not the God that defines the religion it is the people. We can’t keep using religion as a weapon when we are the problem all along.

A Little Too Real

Do you ever feeling like there is no place for you in the world or that you think you know your place, but maybe that really isn’t your place? My cousin recently graduated from the Marines. Horrible pick for employment given the current leader. The point is though that for as long as I can remember anything about him he wanted to be a solider.

From a young age, the last time I happen to even see him, he knew his place in the world. Good or bad choice aside he wanted that and he got it. I don’t have any feelings for him. No sense of lost memories. We could pass each other on the street tomorrow and I’d keep walking, but I feel so happy for him right now. I am happy he has found a place and a place he wants to be. I’m about to turn thirty and I have no place. So sense of purpose in this world. I want to be writer, but I have my doubts.

Growing up all I ever wanted to do was do something in music. Having no talent, no friends to piggy back on, and no aptitude to even learn an instrument I dove into the part I was good at. Writing lyrics became writing poems. Writing poems became telling stories. It took a long time, but that is where I am now. Trying to write stories to find my purpose. At this moment in time I have published nothing, sold nothing, and with every passing day doubt myself and any talent I might have. I don’t even know another writer. Part of the reason I wanted to be a writer is that I could do it on my own. Which is becoming less and less true as time goes on. It takes a village or so I hear, but what does it take if you don’t have one? What am I fighting for if there is no hope of winning?

I have everything I want, well need, I want a lot of shit I don’t need, but writing didn’t get me the things that I wanted. The people around me did. My mom, my wife, my daughter, and the guy who hired me at my current job provided me the opportunities to be where I am today. Lost, but still here. I hope writing pans out. I hope it is my place in this world. Not really sure I have enough time to find another and start working towards that from the ground up. Maybe I am thinking about it too much? My cousin was only a kid when he said he wanted to be a solider and technically he is three months in to his place in life. Five years from now he might not even want to be a solider. I’m fifteen years into mine and all I want to be is a writer. Well a good father, a good husband, and a good son. Sometimes it may feel like we have no place in the world, but all that means is that we aren’t done fighting yet.