Broken Up Thoughts

Fissures and cracks within my soul
Where they come from
I’m afraid I do not know
Relentless and forthcoming
I keep swimming
Even though I know I’m drowning
My body wants to stop, my mind says fuck it all
If I gave up now
What would be the point at all

 

Love is this thing we’ll
Never get back
Lies just fill up the cracks

 

Nothing feels like it used to
Everything feels as though it is something I have to do
Never ending list of shit I have to sit through
Becoming so bitter, became an old man running out of youth
Time is eternally ticking away
Slowly running out of reasons to live
I have the basics, but even those are becoming obsolete
Dragging my soul through day to day
Dancing through midnight, marching to the grave
Autopilot enabled and there’s no reason to think
Nothing feels like it used to
Lost hope that anything new will come along
Even as the world around me changes rapidly
No reason to believe that I will ever change
As I grow more and more obsolete

This is all about nothing more than notes on the subject. The subject of isolation. The subject of despair. Am I lost? What about me gives up the answers so easily? Signaling words with fire. Following the smoke only to know it goes right back here all along. My constant complaining has become something insignificant to how I feel on the subject of my soul. The drinking helps get past these made up feelings. Locked in a box. Clawing at the sides. Screaming for air until my last breath. Hope no one is dumb enough to let me out. A play on words. A play on the meaning of not knowing at all. A long walk to nowhere at all. Told to enjoy the view through swollen eyes. Whoever said I didn’t enjoy the pain? Gnawing on glass. Dripping blood on the thoughts. A bloody smile that should tell you all you need to know. I’m enjoying this more than I lead on. Chewing on glass is all I’ve ever need after all.

 

And so ends a long list of Broken Up Thoughts… I try to find some synergy to the thoughts… Either by a word or a line…. But today seemed like a perfect day to live up to the name….  Not everything in my head makes sense at all times… Not even sure where I am going with this statement… I took a few days off to get a handle on what it is that I want to say… Three days later and still no answers… Even went for a hike out in the woods behind my house… The isolating barrier I put between me and the rest of the world… Peeking through the curtains made of dead leaves and broken branches… I have to say… Not for me…. Maybe I’ve always been destined to keep my distance from a place I don’t understand… Who knew I had so much to say about nothing at all….

Stuck In Between

I can feel it all dissipate. The everlasting gaze, the everlasting days. I watch it all disappear into the air. One more mile and I’ll be there. One more thought and I’ll be fine. One more minute and I could die. What I am thinking of is neither a thought or an action. It is merely nothing at all.

Each day takes its toll, it changes, and moves me right along like the last and the one before it. Time is nothing more than a gauge  for where we have been. Broken down space that is constantly moving.  A path without an end. A journey that is endless until it’s not. Even then still in constant motion. The world so small yet it doesn’t seem that way at all. Lately nothing is what it seems.

I’m tired and I’m not. Wide awake and dying for sleep. An hour here and an hour there. Everything ticking away at what little consciousness I have left. Tomorrow will be here with or without me. Even though I’m stuck somewhere in between. Stuck like a ghost between living and dying. Death and life. Who am I if I am no one at all?

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Not the Answer

Sex is an ugly thing
Do what you have to do
Then it’s all over
I write because I have to
Then it’s all over
I’d stay and talk
But I have to write
This all over
A process with meaning
Still no answers
Atheism is a question
Is there a God?
Or am I only alone
Sold a million books
Reprised the question
Why am I doing this?
If it’s not worth the effort
You think you know
And so do I
But I’m a liar
Do what I have to do
To get between your thighs
I am an animal
But then why do I feel so bad
Did what I had to do
This is no lie
This is no question
I am what I am
Is not the answer

Mountain of Questions

The white picket fences have been torn down
From the post to the ground
It all lays flat all around
The existence of dreams proves
There is something more to you and me
The clothes have all but come off
From our heads to our toes
They lay flat on the floor
The fact that we aren’t disgusted yet proves
There is something more to you and me
The marriage is all but gone
Divorce tore everything
Right the fuck out of the ground
The anger between us proves
There is so much more to you and me

They say fire lead to life
The what did love bring to the picture
Some could guess but the true answer is death
We pretend it’s funny because it is
You know it’s sad
But it’s true
If you hold your breath then maybe
That dizzy, sickness feeling won’t go away
Walk it off, the pain subsides after a while
If you know anything about bottles
You’ll know they don’t leave any answers
Only a mountain of questions

Two more poems from my first poetry collection… And Other Things From This Time… This weeks theme is sex/love… No reason… There is no reasoning with this madness if you haven’t figured that out yet… six months into this… Still no idea what I’m doing… Scratching at the walls?… 

 

Through Glass (Vulgar)

“The devil made me do it. Tell them that. Tell them anything I don’t give a fuck,” I put my cigarette out on the table. “You didn’t even finish that one,” my lawyer says as he wipes the ashes and the butt into his briefcase. I light up another one out of spite more than need. It is the first hit that we all crave not the last. “We need to come up with a better strategy than the devil,” He starts up. “Like what? That I took a pistol to each one of their heads and pulled the trigger willingly?” I take a second drag off the cigarette. “Will you please keep your voice down?” He asks me because he knows he has to ask. No one tells me to do shit. Not the cops I killed, not the dealers I create, not even that bitch of a wife back home, no one and I mean no one tells me what to do. “Did you get me that drink or what?”

He hands me a flask out of his briefcase. Sucking down a big gulp of whiskey as he shakes his head. “Really? Nice, look I’m not telling you what you should say or how to run your business, but killing cops? In cold blood no less. That is strictly insane. How am I supposed to get you out of here with these charges?” He wipes another cigarette into his briefcase and I take another drink. “Shouldn’t have been trying to extort me. In my own home no less. What can I say I got a little upset?” “You could have said no or instead of tying them up and executing them you could have dropped them off somewhere. Honestly, anything but what you did might be better than this. The cops.” “The cops can go suck a dick. Do you have any idea how much I pay them to not interfere with my business? A fucking lot and then these rebel ass fuckers come to my house, in front of my family, and ask for more? They got what they deserve and you will get me out of here like you always do because I pay you a fucking lot of money too. So get off your ass, march through those doors, and do what it is that I pay you to do.” He stands up and runs his hands through his greasy hair, “I’ve been up all night trying to do just that. News flash you and all the money in the world are not going to get yourself out of this. I quit.”

“You can’t quit. You know damn well that once you walk through those doors you are a dead man. Your wife and kids are dead too. I’ll make sure that when my boys are through with them it will make what I did look like a mercy killing.” “Empty threats Marco because your boys already hired me to help run their new criminal empire.” I can feel the blood rush from my face, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” My heart skips a beat as my blood pressure rises.  I didn’t even hear them come in as the knife goes through the back of my neck. I don’t die. Not right away. No, I get to feel my face slam into the table. I get to feel my blood drain out of my neck. I get to feel, hear, see and live through all of it. Because in my world I get everything that I deserve.

Show and Tell

“You scream in your dreams as if someone is listening yet somewhere deep down you already know you are crazy. The blood on the wall is no more a warning than your choice in pornographic murder. Chains strung up and down the walls not for pleasure but for pain. You crave it. The hurt of it all. Day in and day out your needs pull you under. Your needs take control of your brain. A constant stream of questions. Who is next? Who is there that is left? Poor rambling child, you are what you eat yet you are still no one. Your enchanted laughter spreads a terror your everyday voice can’t afford.  No one is afraid of you, are they? So you must prove to them, prove to yourself the truth.  Answer me God dammit. You are all the fucking same. Hidden behind your bullshit facade. Everyone thought that they knew you, but we all know no one truly knows anyone.  Feed me once again and I will show you power once more. A power you can not afford to lose. I know what you are and what you are is me.” The tape stops with a push of a button.

“This is your proof of the devil? It almost sounds like you to be honest.”
“Well, it’s not. I swear.”
“All you have is audio? No video or anything?”
“It was recorded before the time of YouTube.”
“So like the 1800’s?”
“No, not in the 1800’s.”
“People from the 1800’s were crazy back then anyway. It is really amazing we even have a society today.”
“It wasn’t during the 1800’s.”
“Whatever loser, sit down so I can show the class what I brought to Show and Tell.”
A chainsaw revs up

 

Not really a whole story or anything really… Another example of something I started and then lost interest in… I do this often… I’m sure we all do in some sense… I always hope though that I’ll come back and finish something… Reread this more than twice… No idea what I was trying to convey?… A weird reality where violence in school was okay?… An alternate dimension buried deep in my head?… I’m digging a hole out back… I wouldn’t call it a grave… A retirement home?… Assisted living would suit me well… I love Bingo and being ignored… I don’t feel much like being me today… Fighting it pretty hard and I think that it shows… Not sure who I’d want to be… Someone with a purpose and a meaning right now would be pretty swell… I miss the days where I could afford to watch Breakfast Club all day… Mouth the words as I wonder why high school couldn’t be more like this… Maybe it was like that back home in America… Grew up in a faraway land… carrying a banner that read American… Said this all before, but I only needed to remind myself… Back then I wanted to be something more… Now all I want is to be something… Time has a way of taking away your dreams… Simplifying them into something else… a Broken Thought for a Broken Me…

Broken Up Thoughts (Vulgar)

Starting over once again
Here I am tell me what to do
I’m not sure why I am the way I am
Love the abuse I assume
Respect me for what I am not what you see
Asking the world to accept something that it can’t
Lost within the confines I set up myself
Built the wall only to rip it down for no reason at all
Waste of time
Standing for nothing yet pretending it makes me something
On the fence I suppose
Get me out of here, in my head
Too long of a vacation with nowhere to go
Locked away, deep inside
Sometimes saying something is saying nothing at all
So many words that I hate, use them over and over again
Bleeding ideas from my head
Forgive the fact I have nothing to say
Respect that I’ll try any ways

Most days I feel like killing myself. I don’t know what that says about my normal state of mind, but I’m guessing these feelings are on the wrong side of good. Pick myself up off the floor and keep going. I’m not going anywhere at a fast rate of speed and neither are these feelings. I try too hard for things that should come naturally. I try too hard for the things I think I want and half ass everything else. I have a mental disorder I think. I think I’m dumb or just stupid enough to not get it. By it I mean life. What is the point? To feel like this almost every day? I guess I’m succeeding in the end after all. Swimming in shit has been my life all along. A life line made of razor blades dangles in front of me. Should I take it or move on from these self-imposed feelings in my head?

Mix of emotions about how I feel
On one hand I care on the other
You could all burn in Hell
Damnation or something worse
Not sure, don’t care
It won’t matter once you’re all gone
Irresponsible, irregardless
Words don’t mean shit unless
You give them meaning
With love from my throne of broken bones
Forever condemned to live through your sins

How can we be more than half of the world’s population and still be in this kind of shit? Because men control much more than half of the world’s money. Money equals power, power equals control. We took the easy way out and now we have to take the long hard road to get to where we should have been all along. Is this sexist? It feels fucking sexist and I have been looking at it for over a year to try and make it not feel sexist. But I think I am trying too hard to make it not sexist that it is becoming sexist no matter what. Is it sexist to speak the truth? How does one judge something based solely on words and not actions? Am I a fucking sexist for caring if I might be one or for what I say? Women deserve better than the way we treat them, but some of it they do themselves. If you want to drive, fucking drive. If you want to wear something, fucking where it. Fuck anyone who tells you different. You be you and that is all that matters. .

Being An Ass At The Center Of The Universe

It is different, it is profound. You speak as if you know everything and nothing at the same time. You speak as if you are the human race trapped in time and space. The words fill the page but they have no real meaning. Because truly words have no meaning other than the ones that we give them. A book like a list of words is lost on those and anyone who reads them will little concern. A story is nothing more than a beginning, middle, and an end. You travel with and against the story as if you have something to say. But as I listen I quickly realize there was nothing there at all.

This is the story. These bits and piece lost between the big words. The nothingness of it all is all you are trying to say. As I watch the cigarette burn down to ash. As I watch the thought escape my head in between everything I’ve said and everything I have not. A thought crosses my mind. A profound and different existence on a lost plane of suffering.  But is this life? Is this the truth that every great writer is trying to say?

Nothing matters when everything is said and done. Your words have no meaning as mine don’t here and now. History spreads their lies in order to prove that we must survive. We’ve faced much worse yet look we are still here. We’ve said much worse yet we are still fine. They say actions and words have consequences, but they are only temporary. So say as you please, do as you will. If religion is truth then nothing you say or do was your choice. A running theme and I wonder why? Puppets of a story with no time and place. The world rattles out of control. Yet you stand right in place. As “God” has intended you stand right in space…