The blood tasted fresh at first A sickening feeling in my heart Hands around your throat If this is love then I hate the taste The way you make me feel Dying inside, scratching at the casket The earth tasted fresh at first A sickening feeling in my head Broken neck syndrome If this is love then I hate the taste The only way it could have been Only way any of this ever ends
Killing off, cutting off the dead limbs…
So much pain Digging down, buried within Took everything to get here My soul, all the blood Still so far to go Getting up seems to be The hardest part Crawling out of the grave all along A home, a thought I created myself Blame those around me Forever lying to myself The thoughts come to me In a dying song my heart can’t stop Singing
So you think any of this matters…
Hollowed out soul Give me all of your shit Addicted to you Gun stuck in my throat Give me more I’d live but it is not Everything I thought it would be Hung over, burnt out All I wanted was to escape Came back running Too afraid of who I could be Without you next to me
I promises this isn’t becoming a thing… but let’s talk about that last one… It could easily be about a person… might even read that way to you… could easily have been about cigarettes for me… would fit right into how I felt when I tried to quit… but for me it was about alcohol… I didn’t get full blown addicted to alcohol… which is why I was able to write something so clearly… When I tried to write during the time I tried to quit smoking… it was dark… unclear… and I buried it all deep away… when I say it was dark… you know I’m not fucking around…
Addiction can be… is something… that a lot of us can’t escape… I wasn’t even that far along in my alcohol downward spiral… and I still think about it nearly every day… I think for me I was still in that “searching for a feeling phase”… not in “this is me phase” that I am in with cigarettes… point is I was able to get out from under alcohol… I can’t get out from the cigarettes… yes I am aware that is an excuse… I’ve made peace with it… addiction is different for everyone… some addictions are worse than others…
When I hear about people addicted to heroin… it breaks my heart… especially when it is people younger than me… it is a death sentence… not a matter of if… but a matter of when… I can’t judge… we all do what we have to do to see the end of the day… but heroin… pain killers… I’ve never heard… read… or seen any happy stories that end well with heroin… the sooner you seek help the better… never taking them is even better… I can imagine how coming off that shit must feel… and I know I wouldn’t even come close to how it really feels…
I get trying something… I get finding out for yourself… but there are just somethings in this world you shouldn’t fuck with it… I’m no fucking saint… no role model for the next generation… but staying away… seeking help… is all that I can say…
“I think I lost it,” he exhales. “Lost
what?” She asks without facing him. “The ability to write. The
ability to say anything of actual meaning,” he stares into the nothing
that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?” She asks as if she
doesn’t care. “Because I let it rot itself out. I let it go to shit for no
reason. Now it festers there with everything that I try to say. Every idea,
every thought slowly rotting away at me with nothing to say,” he tries to
explain. “Well can’t you get it back if it is right there. Allow yourself
time to heal so to speak?” She asks almost robotically, almost of she is
on rails with her lack of concern. “No, I can’t because in its absence
life got in the way. My brain got in the way. Spread the infection deeper and
deeper. Everything, what little I once had is now gone. I am lost in my own
empathy with nowhere to go. It is as though my life has become one of my
stories. It has become a nightmare,” he rationalizes starring deeper into
the nothing. She turns to him breaking his concentration, “The answer is
simple then.” He stares into her eyes. Where have I seen those eyes
before? “Oh really and what’s that?” He asks while he wonders about
something else. She doesn’t break eye contact as she speaks. “Why don’t
you simply wake up?” She asks in the most serious of tones.
“Jesus Alan, what’s with the screaming?” A woman he
has never seen shouts at him. The words woke him without ever feeling asleep.
Confused on how or what is happening he looks around him. “Right here
asshole. You’ve only been in a coma for three weeks it’s not like it was a
lifetime,” she barks at him. They are sitting in what he assumes is her
office. She is dressed in a business suit as she moves papers around on her
desk. The room fills very high up and the sun is pouring through the windows.
Is this my editor? He wonders. She snaps her fingers breaking his
concentration. Where have I seen those eyes before? He wonders. There is a
glass of water on the desk. He reaches for the glass but he doesn’t understand
why. Everything feels played out. Almost rehearsed. He watches his arm move in
slow motion to pick up the glass. The glass feels almost unreal in his hand.
The water doesn’t move as he lifts up the glass. It doesn’t sweat. It doesn’t
feel like anything. It is almost as if the glass is empty and full at the same
time. The stranger slaps his hand and the glass falls to the floor. The glass
doesn’t shatter and it doesn’t spill. “Don’t drink that your body isn’t
ready. As for who I am and how you got here. Well that’s simple,” she
smiles. “It is?” He asks confused. She snaps again. “You want
the longer version or the short version? She asks. He thinks over what she is
asking. Watching the glass sit perfectly still on its side. “Long I guess.
There’s something wrong with your,” he tries to get out but she cuts him
off. She speaks in rapid tones of noises and what seem like made up words. He
watches as her face mouths the words and the light in the room goes from day to
night and back to day when she stops suddenly. She exhales a long breath.
“Basically you tried to kill yourself and I’m you only
I’m the female you and even then I’m just made up pieces of all the females you
have wanted or dreamed of being with,” she sums up. “All the women?
Where the hell am I?” He asks as layer upon layer of confusion sets in.
“Check it out. Two different people,” she says ignoring his
questioning of this reality. She leans her body over the desk so he can get a
better look of her face. “Two different people,” she moves her head
side to side. “Well really more like twenty, but face wise two. Pretty
cool huh?” She asks without asking. He sits there silently studying her
face. Two very different people he thinks. “Well I think it is cool. I can
tell you have no idea what is happening, but do we really have to be stuck in
this office all day? We can really go anywhere we want and yet we are
here?” She asks. “I don’t understand what is going on,” is all
he can say. She snaps her fingers and the room changes in a blink of an eye.
They are on a beach. Endless sand, but no water. Only the sound of the waves
crashing around them. Their clothes have changed and she notices him staring at
her. “Yeah this breast situation isn’t ideal. To be honest it is a tad bit
awkward,” she moves her chest closer so he can see in an innocently
suggestive manner. One breast is very much bigger than the other one. “One
double D and the other an A. Yeah you are seeing that in real time. Do you have
an idea how difficult it is to find a bra in these dimensions? Let alone what
it is like on a date? Well it is a lot like it is now,” she sighs.
“No, I’m sorry but I created you?” He seems to be questioning himself
more than asking. She looks side to side as if to make sure no one is around.
Only adding to his confusion. “Yeah, you did. Do you see anyone else
around?” She asks. “How could I have done this?” He asks.
“What? Create everything around us or mess up my breasts? Flip of the coin
really,” she says sarcastically. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m
having a really hard time processing all of this,” he states. “I know
I can feel it,” she says in a worried tone. “You need to calm down.
Close your eyes and think of something else. Whatever you want.” He does
as he is told. Closing his eyes and trying to relax. Relax in the darkness of
his mind. “Sweet you fixed my breasts. Thank you, thank you,” she
exclaims with glee. He opens his eyes and the bright sun blinds him at first.
He winces and has he does clouds begin to form in the sky. Bringing down the
intensity of the light until he is comfortable. “Is this heaven?” He
asks with a smile. “This? No, fuck no. What made you think this was
heaven?” She asks. “Well I control everything seems to be the obvious
answer,” he states. She sighs, “Well first off I don’t know much more
than anything than you know as I am you. But last we knew or you knew or
whatever. God controls heaven and you aren’t God so, one could easily assume
based on what you do and don’t know that this is in fact not heaven. Make
sense?” She asks. He shakes his head, “No, not even a little
bit.” She shrugs her shoulders. “That’s it? That’s your answer?”
He asks. “Pretty much,” she states openly. “So I’m not in
heaven. I’m just in a shoulder shrug. Awesome makes sense,” he says.
“You are focusing way too much on things that don’t matter. This is
literally nothing. Physically it is nothing. It feels like something, the sand,
but it is all nothing,” she states. He turns to look around him. Watching
as he changes his surroundings in an instant with only a thought. Watches as
towering trees take over the sky. The sound of the waves still crashing in the
“Why am I here instead of someplace else?” He asks
her. “Because from what I know you were kind of an asshole and even you
have admit a tad bit selfish,” she answers her voice coming from behind
him. “I’m not an asshole and I’m definitely not selfish,” he snaps back.
“Oh really? You’ve been here maybe, well you’ve been here a long time, but
you’ve only been here in this part of nothing for five minutes, and when you
decided to fix my breasts you went with two D’s rather than two A’s. Hell you
could have made me a man, but you didn’t. You chose to keep me as a woman.
Asshole in my book,” she tells him. “I’m not an asshole okay?”
He turns to face her only to find her completely naked and starring back at
him. “I guess you aren’t selfish either?” She asks as though nothing
has changed. “You tried to kill yourself and left everyone behind to shift
through the mountain of shit you left behind. No one asked for that. No one
wanted that, and yet here we are,” she states. She sits down on the newly
formed grass that has appeared before them, “I’m going to let you think about
that for a moment.” She sits with herself exposed pulling the blades of
grass by her feet one by one as he watches her. In an instant she is fully
clothed, “I’m not an asshole and you can’t talk to me like that.” She
doesn’t even bother to look up at him. “Like a broken record this one. At
least you haven’t tried to touch me this time,” she says under her breath.
“And if you aren’t then why do you think you have been here so long?”
She confronts him holding up the blades of grass in the form of a crown.
“You are in control of this and all of this, and still you have no idea
what is going on?” She stands up and all the blades of grass scatter
across the ground. “I don’t know,” he shouts in frustration. “I
wake up in an office, then I’m on a beach, and now I’m in a massive forest with
you every step of the way. I don’t know what is going on,” he screams as
the world around him shakes. “They said, well you said, well they
mentioned,” she says as though she can not think. “They said that you
were like a TV constantly flipping between channels,” she finally gets
out. “Do you honestly believe that made any sense or somehow answered a
single question in my head?” He snaps back. “Yep I do because like I
said I am you so, if I think it or say it, it is because you already believe
it. None of this is new. We’ve had this conversation a hundred, a hundred and
fifty times, but it ends the same every time. Think about what you were
thinking about before you woke up,” she touches his face gently tracing
“I think I lost it,” he says to her. “Lost what?” She asks from behind a desk. “The ability to write. The ability to say anything of actual meaning.” He stares into the nothing that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?”
I hope you enjoyed this story… The first one of this cycle… tried to come out strong… never know how anything will turn out until it posts… Chewing On Glass will be presenting a wide variety of stories this cycle… trying to express the wide spectrum of emotions that I am made of… also trying a few things out… trying to get better at all of this… Want to get better at third person perspective… not my go to style… As with trying anything new… there is a lot of trepidation… but don’t worry… things will always be dark… it is where I live after all… can shed your skin over and over… but you can never shed where you are from…
So what the fuck was this even about?… with the dark theme of suicide… trippy ass locations that don’t make any sense… (If you liked this aspect of the story… wait until I release my next short story book… there is a story in there that takes this theme to the max…)… This story was actually not about any of those things… well it was on the surface… the real theme and inspiration for this story was writers block…
This story was about the annoyance of trying to write something over and over for it to only turn out to be shit… the ups and down of how our brains work… feeling trapped yet knowing you have all the tools to escape… wanting to smash your head into a wall to get the ideas out… only to know that it would do nothing in the end… it was a tricky story to write without giving away all the cards… so in the absence of thought and the frustration of writing nothing of actual meaning… I came up with this story…
As usual my favorite character is the woman… I love her care free… give no fucks… this is how it is attitude… writing bad ass… strong women are my favorite characters to write… I love the idea that in this story… for me at least… that there is this duality of her… she is the one in control… yet has no control at all… a pawn and the ruler of the kingdom… a guide and the true representation of it all… “Hell you could have made me a man, but you didn’t”… That line to me… was a turning point in the story where the main character begins to really question everything beyond the surface… there are moments about questioning everything really because that is what the story is all about… questioning ones thoughts and trying to find actual meaning behind nothing at all…
A child I have one I still am Feel everything A mistake I am one Stuck in the past tense I still feel everything A reason Still feel lost In the same place Going nowhere Maybe I should A child I’ve always been Still feeling every feeling An anger I can’t get rid of A hurt I can’t help but be in A mistake Resting inside my head
Hurts like hell
It’s going to hurt either way It will hurt more with you than without The end of everything that I knew The pain feels real even as I feel nothing Catching lightning bugs in a jar Watching the light burn out Bodies left for the others to know their fate A burning corpse on the side of the road All the thoughts left except for one This idea of hurt is all you’ve left me
I’ve been living on borrowed time
Sit down and shut up Flowers on a grave Nothing left to say Honor the dead and let it go away No way could any of this shit ever change
Written from the darkness of my mind… lets talk about that last thought… and break it down…
Sit down and shut up
We have this problem in America… maybe the world… where we get really pissed off about something for… I don’t know… well now it’s over… it is a tool and tactic used by our government and media… be mad but also be mad at this… gets to a point where we are all just mad about everything… and we never address the issue that actually made us mad… caused the problem… so nothing ever changes… people become divided… we war at each other until the next problem shows up… put the issue on the back burner… and crank up the next one… Examples… Gun Control… Abortion… Immigration… (Wrote this one based on gun control in the United States… )
Flowers on a grave Nothing left to say
So we go through this whole I’m pissed and do nothing at all cycle… or do very little… slapping Band Aids on a gushing… rotting… open wound… and in the end this is where we stand on the issue at hand… an impasse.. where we wait for the next one… if you pay attention long enough it becomes a comedy of errors… or if you are an asshole like me… you just laugh and move on with your day… wait did he just said he laughs at the death of others???… yeah… I’m not proud… but…
Honor the dead and let it go away No way could any of this shit ever change
There comes a time where just remembering those we lost and doing nothing at all to prevent future incidences… is pretty funny… the whole cycle leaves you with a lack of empathy for the next set of victims… Honestly how many time are we going to be sad or shocked that someone… anyone… died by being attacked with assault rifles… when we just keep letting assault rifles be sold in the US… How much do we really care about those that we lost?… when we continue on with the same thoughts and behaviors from before… we don’t care…
So yeah I am the asshole for moving on… but put up a fucking mirror… look into the cold eyes staring back at you and wonder what did you do to stop this from ever happening again?… yeah… the point is it doesn’t matter… conditioned by the very people we put our faith in to make this go away… it doesn’t matter… because if did… we would have changed it already…
No one really cares until it happens to them… sad fact of life… and I hope… I pray… I wish… it never happens to any of you… any one at all… because it doesn’t need to happen… Gun Control shouldn’t be a party issue… it should be a life issue that we all should come together to end… because I don’t bleed Democrat or Republican or Independent… no… I bleed blood just like you…
Writing from my humid, fart smelling, and spider infested desk has to be the pinnacle of everything in my life right now. Hammering nails into wood would seem almost more productive at this point. Year fucking zero on a life that has yet to begin. I wonder how many more Ghost reference I can push through my brain for no reason at all. Bored with all the time in the word. Sitting still seems like the only thing to do, but I have a mountain of shit I have to do for free. I guess we all bide our time doing something. Broken part of my brain won’t let me just enjoy life. No I have to be working towards something at a glaciers pace on a budget of zero. Maybe today will be the day I drink enough energy drinks and smoke enough cigarettes to kill myself. Unlikely, but maybe the alcohol will slip me into a comma that I don’t give a fuck about what other people think. It won’t, but I need to submit my thoughts none the less. Don’t get me wrong I love to write, but I could do without all the pressure of being liked. I have yet to find any audience that wants to hold me high above their shoulders and chant my name. Nope instead I am sweating my ass off in my garage plotting away a life time’s worth of work.
It’s hard out here
for a pimp. Working away at nothing is exhausting. I know what I would do with
all of the attention and it isn’t pretty. But to be honest I fear it all the
same. I don’t want to be the center of attention. That is how I have always
been. I don’t want to be someone’s hero. I like being the villain and I just
want to write. I love it. It is all I do and everything else is something I do
to pass the time in between thoughts. Get in line right? Well I already am in
line. Been there for a while waiting for my number to be called. Gone through
all the stages and been left behind. I can feel my heart growing even more
bitter with every day. I’m not there yet, but I can feel it coming around the
corner. Digging out the hole in my heart. The more it hurts the closer you get
right? Being sober is a long walk to the same exact spot. The more I say the
more I want, could use a drink. The depression takes a hold and all I can think
is maybe tomorrow. All the time in the world and I don’t want to do anything,
but ramble on. Ramble on about my failures in a game that makes no sense.
Nothing handed to you is worth anything at all. Anything worth anything won’t just be found. Stumbled upon maybe, but odds are that it won’t. Digging a four foot grave because six feet seems like too much work. An analogy for my whole life. If only I could change something in my brain. Flip a switch and set all this shit to off. Wake me up when any of it matters and yet I know I’d never flip that switch. All this pain, all this effort, all this waiting has to be worth something. Even if it is worth nothing at all in the scheme of things. Life isn’t about anything other than living, but living is the boring part. The day to day drag of nothing at all. The best moments in life are the ones you don’t know you are living until they have already gone by. Remind myself that this isn’t over, but I know I want more. Feel it in my bones. Rattling around in my head to keep going for a dream that makes no sense. Who the fuck cares what anyone has to say when we don’t? Let alone pay for it? Print is nearly dead and I cling to its dying corpse in hopes that it will pay off. Seems very much like something I would do. Get it from my mother. This optimism that everything will work out if you work hard enough. Where the fuck I get this bitterness I do not know.
Threading the line between optimist and pessimist becomes exhausting over time. A fucking wave of emotions that crashes against the rocks of my brain. Will I or won’t I actually give a shit today? And even if I do will I even do anything with it or just sit and suffer? Living life stuck in between everything else is exhausting. Word of the day. Exhausted and bored with every thought. I could, but why should I? Stuck in between here and there and I just want to be there already. Though I have no idea where there is. Happy? Unlikely. Content? Stop trying to fit yourself into a box. Comfortable? In this skin? Highly unlikely. Fighting for something and swinging at nothing. A circle jerk with no pay off. Lost and lonely, and that is where I am today. Doing nothing at all.
If you click the links maybe some Amazon book magic will happen without you having to buy anything… I don’t know I am stupid and desperate… but if you have a Twitter account… you can click that link… and tell me how much life sucks… or how much I suck… I’m open to interpretation… don’t forget to use the hash tag… #BrokenThought….
Words locked inside my head Feeling as if I’ve always been dead Looking for a past I can remember A future without any limits Parts of me left unknown Without anything to show Digging away at the wall A dark place where I learned to fall The shattered pieces never add up If I figured it out would I even know What I am looking for in all of this
You can’t buy time.You can pay for it but you can’t buy it.
No one understands anything they say Death in the family same as before What is the difference between feeling and felt What is a question with too many answers I know at some point I must leave Dreading the day this doesn’t make sense Waiting for my time A reason to become who I am
Killers are the same as you.
Rebuilding myself from nothing Dead inside Lost and lonely That’s been every day for years Somehow this time feels different Some ways it feels like the first time Little deaths didn’t prepare me For anything like this An empty feeling inside my chest
What does that mean for the rest of us?
A constant drag on my soul The need to let go is overwhelming Never have I, never will I Hating has become something more Consuming my burning soul A truth I can’t ignore Imagine myself as someone else Same archetype every time Do onto others as they do onto me The scars burned across my skin There is no escaping what I am No balance in the world Even if I believe it to be
Let’s talk about that last one… hate is so strong… filled with insecurities… filled with so much shit… I don’t see the point… if you really hate something… you care about it more than anyone… anything else… if you really didn’t care… you’d ignore it… be like fuck it… doesn’t matter… I try to not let hate consume me… not because it is bad… we were born to fear and hate… it comes so natural it disgusts me… I try to not hate because I don’t want to care…
For instance… I hate my father… I don’t want to… I don’t even want to think about him… but I can’t stop no matter how much I tell myself to just quit thinking about him… I forget about him from time to time… and then something stupid happens… then it is all I can think about… What I would say if I saw him again… How I would act… all the hate I’d lay down on him… all the things I could say to destroy him… It is a nice fantasy I live from time to time… What I really hope though… that if it ever happens… if I ever see that fat faded fuck face… is that I just walk away…
As much hate as I carry… as much hate that consumes my thoughts… I hope I am man enough to just walk away… he deserves no part of me… no part of my life… in so many ways I wish I could just throw him away like he did to me… but life never works out that way… “No balance in the world… Even If I believe it to be”… That’s when we have to just walk away…
So what does any of that have to do with that last Broken Thought?… There comes a time in racism… in hate… where you just have to let go… fine they don’t like me because…. of my skin… of where I’m from… of how much money I have… of what the fuck ever… Then they aren’t good enough to know who I am… their loss not mine… You should always stand up for yourself… for others… but there are times where walking away… doing your own thing… does more than any other action could… Don’t let the hate consume you…
Hope you missed me because I’m back… Year 3… begins today… the format will be different… after last years ass kicker of a schedule… things are changing all around really… still working on my novel… still writing… think I have just been sitting around?… who the fuck do you think I am?… I always have a plate of glass ready to go… hungry as fuck… don’t believe me?…
That my friends… is the stack… the stack of stuff I have been working on… working through… and the crazy part is that… that isn’t even all of it… I have files on my phone… on my computer… that I still have to print out… I’ve got plans for this year… ideas I want to get out… and unlike last year… I know that I will… little by little I will get it done…
First step in not repeating last year… I changed the schedule to reduce burn out and pressure… besides my whole life going to shit… that was the biggest thing I struggled with last year… burn out plus depression do not mix… because I will just do nothing… and pile on that pressure… not a good combination… for me… or anyone really… so to take that out of the equation and to provide better content in general… I went down to two days of the week… Monday and Thursday… we all have lives that we need to live… I get that now after two years…
I also have decided to do what we just experienced… a break from time to time… there is a reason that your favorite show doesn’t play a new episode every day… or every week… so every three months there will be a two month break… I know I just showed you a stack of shit I have waiting to be read… I know two months seems like forever… but we made it through this last few months… hopefully… so it will be okay…
Which brings me to the next topic I want to rant about… some of that work in the picture is actually my novel and a few other books I have been sitting on for years… don’t expect a flood of shit from me… but I do have some plans coming up… stay tuned for more information… so that is a big reason for the new format… I want to focus more energy on that… or those… or whatever… Because I have decided to give up on finding a publisher…
I’ve been sitting far too long on ideas… books… stories…and thoughts that I want to share… in hopes that one day I will get picked up by a publisher… for better or worse… fuck it… I’m not getting any younger… I don’t want to sit here and hope anymore that doing it the “right” way will lead to something… my heroes… your heroes… didn’t just sit there hoping… they made it happen… that is why they are our heroes… so… if I have to do it all myself… then so be it… worse case they won’t buy any of the books that I published on my own… they aren’t buying them now… getting to a point in my life where win/lose is no longer how it is… it is all just lose from here…
So that is where you come in… well you have always been here… but that is where I need you… buying books… t-shirts… anything is… thank you… but if you really want to help me.. big picture help me… follow me on twitter… leave reviews… tell others… click links…(Working on a few other things as well…) any amount of extra traffic helps… it may seem pointless and useless… but it really does help… and I thank you very much for all the help that you bring to this website… to me…
I know that shit got weird last year… I wanted so much more out of last year… I failed at a lot of things I wanted to accomplish… professionally and personally… it was a hard year… one that I hope I never have to live again… but I thank you for sticking around… for liking… for commenting… for believing in me… it is easy to get caught up in everything… life is a shit storm of events… situations… thoughts… feelings… and I want you to know that I appreciate every second that you have taken out of your busy lives to visit this website… I know I go on selfish rants about my thoughts… feelings… but I think about all of you and all that you do… every day… even if I don’t say it… even when I get caught up in my own shit… I think a lot about each and everyone of you… Thank you…
Welcome to year three…
(Block editing or whatever WordPress is calling this shit still sucks…)
Thanks for stopping by… out on vacation for a few weeks or months… check below for actual posts… first time visiting the website?… there are tabs for older stuff… poems… stories… previews for the books available… not sure if it is enough material to subside you until I return… but something is always better than nothing…