And Other Things From This Time Preview

Descending

I forge a path
I forge ahead of the rest
In the end
Left in the back
I dance before I awake
Covered up for good
Yet it is all the same
Visualize in my mind
There’s not much left to hide
My soul bleeds open
As if cut or torn
My mind like one big wound
I was lost and I still am
Time doesn’t heal anything
For the damned
Time does nothing more
Than keep track of everything lost
Bleed like me and I will
Follow the trail into the dark
Bleed like me and I will
Heed your warning until the end
Too late to change anything
Here we go again but in the end
I gave up a long time ago
Before here and now
Deep in the ground

 

Do Nothing

I bleed and I scream
I dream and I leave
At the time and for me
Life is a glimpse
Of something I don’t know
I wait for a signal
Then at once I should go
The tunnel is dark
Long and without hope
The path is clear
Of hidden danger and the unknown
I bleed and I scream
I dream and I leave
I do something
But in the end I do nothing

Two more poems from my book now available on Kindle… A mixed bag of emotions beat with a small wooden bat… Broke the larger one trying to figure this all out… Desperately need bat money or a new bat… Thanks for the help and your time… Until tomorrow.. Best of luck…

Beyond The Time

In every past life, at every attempt I have failed. Every new life is nothing more than another mistake. A continued struggle that lives through me dwelling for centuries, maybe even eons. I don’t know anymore. In every reincarnation I have learned nothing new. The idea of it all seems so impossible even to me. Possible or not I am forever trapped on this plane of existence. A never-ending nightmare where only the surroundings change and not the circumstances in which I came to be. It is almost as though I don’t even exist.

Blind, the people around me are blind to their own recurring cycles. Spinning out of control together we dance in circles without the thinnest idea we have done this before. Not a day on repeat, but a lifetime of pain and suffering. From the cradle to the grave, day after day I clutch at nothing. Receiving nothing in this alleged life as yet another hand full of ash flows through my fingers. I’ve watched her die over and over again. The way may be different in each lifetime, but her eyes.

The look in her eyes never changes. They stare me down. Straight into my soul. They say, “Why?” Why haven’t you saved me? Not even once. The look in her eyes is what I fear each and every life time. I will continue this cycle unless I find my way out of this place. The surreal knowledge of all the pain I am destined to experience hangs over me like a dark cloud. It is years before I remember that I have been here before, that I have done this before, and the emotions flood in. Can we really be the only ones? Could it be possible that the others willingly participate in their own pain? When did this begin? My brain wants to explode at the thoughts. Questions I have asked before I’m sure. Questions I am still compelled to ask today.

I play my part and I do my time. Waiting for something, anything that could be seen as an answer.  There is no God in a place like this or there is nothing but God. Stabbing, digging through the life time ahead of me. Waiting for something to change other than the time. Ashes to ashes, she will rise again after I have fallen and risen once again. I will find her, we will fall in love, and then she will die once again. A love that I can not stop myself. An unbroken chain of desire. I need to fight it. Fight what compels me inside. Broken, my mind is broken from all the life times I have lived. I’ve gone by so many names I no longer know what my name once was. I have helped empires to rise only to be there when they fall. If this is hell. How long is an eternity?

Underground Parking Structure For All Eternity

I think of all the things that I have to say and all the things that I want to say. Two very different and conflicting ideas. The question is am I happy? Simple at first more complex as time goes on. Define the word happy or the feeling of happiness. No one is happy for longer than a few seconds. The feeling fades, cum and you are done, the feeling disappears into the brink of darkness. Overwhelmed by all the living done around me. I don’t remember a happy time from my childhood, but I can recall in detail every single horrible thing that I was put through.

I remember these things like most people remember fond memories of loved ones. It is that only these tortures memories were, are my only friends. Why must I always be submerged in darkness even in light? I wonder if it is just me. This is who I am. Depression is often described as though a dark cloud is always hanging overhead. Always ready to rain. The feelings never ends. Forty more years of this seems like an eternity yet the last thirty went to fast to be doing nothing at all. Choosing a path is so much harder without a trail.  So much harder in the rain from a storm that blinds my eyes. Built to be stronger than the way I portray in my life. Though maybe I am weak after all. Too weak to see the good that I still have left in me. Seems to lie with in the same region as happiness. It comes and goes, but really I’d love to be the one to destroy it all.

Burn it all down and absorb the screams. Enjoy the end much more than the beginning. Would be hard at first to go against nature. The day-to-day things might come back to haunt me. Faded memories, but I’d forget their faces after a time. I know by the time that it was all said and done I could get over the shock and aww. We paint the devil as a villain while giving him all the traits of a hero. A liberator of man only to be tinged by the flames he wanted all along. His punishment was his goal in the end. Who really won? We fight every moment to obtain what we are trained to never achieve. We praise Jesus, but worship Satan. Doing the right thing only gets you crucified. Suffer until there is nothing left. What if the bible is real, but we have miscomprehended it since the dawn of time? What then?

If God was among us what would she really have to say? Live your life or do it my way. It’s all the same as time goes on. We make choices for no reason at all and decisions on our own time. Nothing ever lasts, but we’ll wait until the last second to figure that out. Not an issue when there is still so much time left for me to decide.

Something Different

Long Legitimate Regret

There is a war within myself
One that can not be won with blood and guts
This can’t be the end
But I fear that it must
Each day is a plague within itself
A lost cause of hopeful redemption
One that could only do better with mass amputation
A removal of myself
A separation of mind from body
I hope one day for it to all go away
Though I know less hopeful things
Will come true
If this is the end
Embrace it as  if holding an old friend
Too much has changed since the beginning
Your bull-headed stubbornness was cute
Now it is nothing more than sad and pathetic

 

Become

If I still cared
I might have tried
But I don’t so
So all be left alone
Not sure if this is a
Punishment or reward
Everything has its benefits
Disadvantages
I could care if I was still
If I was still me
But time has changed everything
I’ll become what I fear
Not sure if this is a
Punishment or reward
Disassociate myself
Isolation is key
To everything I have become

 

Unsure

So they say
That it is the age of death
So they say
A lot of things
Who are they
That you listen too
So they say
We are all murderers and thieves
So they say
To hear themselves speak
Who are they
Anyways
So they say
That the world will end today
So they say
Anything that you want to hear
Who are they
Inside your head

This is the age of death
A disease
We are the murders and thieves
A mark
The end is today
A sacrifice
Who am I anyways?
Overly lost and confused
Locked away
Left for dead

Bowl Full of Something and It Keeps On Moving

Early, I’m always early. For what I don’t know. It’s not as though anyone is standing around ready to go. Waiting on me to show my ugly face. Always in a hurry to be done with whatever it is that I’m doing. Out of time, I’m always out of time I suppose.

I’ll be early for death and in a hurry to get it over with. Yet I suffer from extreme anxiety that I will die before I am able to accomplish anything. Whatever that might be. An enigma, I am an enigma. Andrew Jackson Jihad has a song called “This is Why I’m Hot.” In it the singer states that he only has two years left with no context to why he only has this much time. Since turning twenty-eight it is as though the song and the lyrics have become my mantra. How long do we chase the ghost? Until we die? I feel as though the longer I go the more the lyrics will depress me.

Who knows though maybe one day I will never feel like this anymore?

Maybe one day I’ll be dead. I fear that death is nothing more than one long therapy session. Constantly thinking, reflecting on a life time full of bull shit and regret. Worthless excuses to why I didn’t do this, but rather did that. I often wonder what it is that I will say if this is how death is. I suppose that is why I write. Get all of this off my chest before the big day. As I stated before always early and always in a hurry.

Failed TV Pilot….

It’s the day before Halloween rest up and go have some fun… Or read this… up to you…

Episode 1

Scene 1: Takes place in a restaurant. The finer the place looks the better. Two people sitting at the table or booth. One male and one female. There are drinks on the table, but they haven’t gotten their food yet.

Layne
“I guess if I took a long dark look at myself I would have to say it is nothing more than the abyss.”

Female

“So what happens when you don’t have anything to tear you down?”

Layne
In a solemn tone. “I’m never truly happy or content with anything to be honest. ”

Female

“Honesty is a good thing, but how can you say that you are never truly happy. There has to be something in your life that satisfies you in some way.

Layne

“Well of course I’m not a freak or something. I like things it’s just that focusing on them all the time doesn’t help me write when I need it to. I’m easily distracted when it comes to things like that. I mean the time that I was molested as a child is not something I like to talk about, but hey it happens.”

Female
“Okay this just got awkward especially for a first date.” Stress awkward

Layne

“Well I feel like I can be honest and open with you about anything. So sharing my inner secrets really can’t be that bad from the beginning. I realize we barely know each other, but at the same time I really feel like I know you on a deeper level.”

Female

Looks around as if she is lost. “Well that’s a lot to take in. All in one go I mean. It feels like we are moving a little fast or at least you are.” Spots Layne writing things down on his napkin. “Are you seriously writing things down on your napkin?”

Layne

“I’m feeling little taken back from your hint of rejection so when inspiration strikes.

Female

Creeped out. “That’s fine and all but the napkin is cloth. You don’t plan on keeping that do you? Because I’m pretty sure the restaurant wants those back at some point.”

Layne

“They won’t miss it trust me. I worked for a restaurant once. They factor in the cost of everything. Just like hotels and towels. Hey speaking of towels I know this guy who works at the hotel down the street. I’m pretty sure I can get him to lets us use a room for an hour or two. If I’m just being honest we should just finish our drinks and head over there now. We’ll save money in the end even if I tip big on the way out.”

Female

“He’s a bit off, a bit eccentric, but he is a good guy,” my sister said. “What the fuck was I even thinking?”

Layne

“She called me eccentric?”

Female

Gives him a weird look before packing up her stuff.

Layne

“Quick question were you going to go down on me tonight?”

Female

Makes a disgusted face.

Layne

“Got to know?” said with a smile

Female

“Oh my god are you fucking retarded?” Said at a near whisper so the other people can’t hear.

Layne

Wide eyed and waiting.

Female

“I was thinking about.” She grabs her stuff and storms out of the restaurant.

Layne

Sighs and finishes drink, “That was a yes.”

 

Title Sequence
Layne Ambrose in “I’m So Fucked.”

 

Scene 2

Layne and Gwen sitting in a darken theater with the only light lighting their faces coming off of the screen.

Gwen
“So how did that date with my little sis go the other day?”

Layne

Puzzled look. “It went well, but there wasn’t that connection.” Makes an awkward hand motion about connection.

Gwen

Nods her head as if she understands. “You are so full of shit. I still can’t believe you asked her if she was going to go down on you as she was walking out on you.

Layne

Trying to play if off like it was nothing. “She said something about that?”

Gwen

“Half the internet knows about it by now. Heard one kid was so impressed by the story that he is using it for a school project. Should be up by the end of the week.”

Layne

“Anyone we know?”

Gwen

“Sadly not, because I would have volunteered your time to be in it.”

Cuts to scene of two people at a make shift restaurant talking without words. The lady pours herself a drink before throwing it in the man’s face in disgust and walking out. All the same person. Silent Movie Style.

Layne

“You know we could go back to the restaurant and reenact it, but this time I think the girl should walk out with me in the end.”

Layne goes in for a hug and Gwen’s arms get pinned between them.

Layne

Whispers into her ear. “We could go out to the car and you could show me some of your oral skills.”

Gwen

“It’s just too bad your broke ass doesn’t have a car.” She pushes Layne off of her.

Layne

“Behind the building is fine with me.”

Gwen

“Fucking sick. Grow a Vag and then maybe I’ll lust after you enough to be your street whore.”

Layne

“Gross you are like a sister to me anyways. I couldn’t fuck my sister.”

Gwen

“Yet you tried to fuck mine.”

Gwen and Layne

“Aww”…. While pointing at one another

Stranger in the next row up

“Could you please keep it down? I paid good money to see this movie.”

Layne

“Dude relax it’s a Bendis flick everyone dies in the end so don’t even worry about it.”

Gwen

“You paid to see this piece of shit?

Layne

“Way to ruin the illusion of sneaking into a movie Sam.”

The stranger moves to get up.

Layne

“Time to bail.”

Layne and Gwen make towards the exit and run out of the theater.

 

Scene 3

Standing a block away from the theater both characters a breathing heavy while trying to stop laughing. They finally catch their breath and head towards the nearest diner. They walk in and take a seat in a far away booth.

Gwen

“Why do you always call me Sam when we get into those kinds of situations?”

Layne

“Works both ways.”

The waitress appears out of nowhere.

Waitress

“Well you two would make a cute couple. If you could try not to sweat all over the table that would be appreciated. “

Layne

Awkward. “We’ll take two waters to start with.”

Waitress

Under her breath but loud enough to hear. “Of course you will.” The waitress disappears into thin air.

Layne

“I like her already. To answer your question though, Gwen is to unique of a name. Sam however is plain and boring.”

Gwen

“And you questioned why I told my sister you were a little weird. I’m a girl Layne. Sam is a unique name for a girl.”

Layne

“You’re only a girl for one week out of the month. The other three you may as well adjust your nuts like the rest of us boys.”

Waitress

Says in a joking manner.“Having an interesting conversation over her?”

Layne and Gwen give off a slight shiver of awkwardness but both pretend to be amused with smiles.

Waitress

“We decide what we want besides water?”

Gwen and Layne

“Fries”…

Waitress

“Fries? Really, do you want me to buy you something to eat? Why not fuck it right we’re kids we have no money just waste time and sit for hours taking up space.”

Layne

“Whatever it is that you are doing is working right now. I want you to know that.”

Waitress

“Good, what will you be having then?”

Gwen and Layne

“Fries”..

Gwen

“But if you keep bring us water like wine I will make sure he tips you well.”

Layne

“Yeah our young metabolisms only keep working if we digest an emissive amount of shit with an ever flowing amount of water.  Strange I know but if there is one thing I know it is that you don’t fuck with science.”

The waitress huffs her way to the kitchen.

Gwen

In a serious tone.“So lets get down to business.”

Layne

“What do you mean?”

Gwen

“What have you been working on?”

Layne

Mouths the words as she says them.

Gwen

“Very cute, but really what have you been writing about?”

Layne

“Nothing.”

Gwen

“Nothing, you haven’t written anything at all?”

Layne

“Well no I have been writing about nothing.”

Gwen

“Yeah I’m sure you have. Don’t pull this shit on me Layne. Jerry got cancelled before it even got off the ground.”

Layne

Looking disappointed that she stopped his witty retort before he could even make it. “Okay gwen-gwen. What should I be writing about?”

Gwen

Annoyed. “I don’t know. You write and I draw that is how this relationship works.”

Layne

“Strange I always thought it was a P and a V that made this relationship work.”

Gwen

“How many movie and show references are you going to try and make this evening?”

Layne

Shifts in the booth trying to act cool but there is no real way to do that.

Gwen

“Hey, stop being so awkward just because you are being so lazy. Quit your pouting the waitress is coming with the food.”

Waitress

The waitress drops off the food. “You screw me over and I will eat you.”

Gwen and Layne

“Fair enough.”

The waitress stares us down before finally disappearing once again.

Layne

“Pretty sure she is a demon.”

Gwen

“Then it is best that we don’t fuck with her.”

Layne

“I agree. Hey, maybe we can write about her.

Gwen

“Well you better start writing about something before no one gives a shit about us again.”

Cut to shot of the two behind a signing table. Quick images of the stack of comics selling out really fast. Cut to scene of Layne sitting at his desk doing nothing but playing with a pen and note-book.

Narration
“A direct reference to their mildly successful indie comic finished up earlier this year. Layne hasn’t written a single word since that issue hit stands.

Finish up with scenes of them eating fries and laughing. A shot of them paying the bill and leaving a hundred-dollar tip. The waitress smiles and glows in the background as they stand outside discussing something. They hug and each go their own separate ways. We follow Layne as he walks home from the diner. (Layne voice over on the last shot) “The whole walk home all I could think about was how I am so fucked…..”

Yeah That Happened. It Started out as a comic. Might still be a comic. But some of the stuff I have for it is really dated now. Also I can’t draw so that’s a whole thing. I know I’m digging deep at this point. I’ll have better stuff next time. Maybe.. I don’t make promises… I promise….

The Death Bringer

I drag her body to the back forty of our property. It has rained hard for the last three days. Tonight though, the sky is clear as I drag her body. Her attempts at screaming fill the autumn air, and warn the neighbors that something is wrong. I brought a shovel and a pickaxe with us tonight. They will do most of the work tonight, but only with my help. I drop her leg and toss the shovel to my left make sure she can’t reach it. I take the pickaxe into both of my hand and raise it high above my head. She lets out a whimper afraid I will use it on her. Not yet sweetie. I bring the pickaxe down with everything I’ve got over and over, loosening the ground even more in to a sunken hole. That I will dig out soon with the shovel. She’s still breathing, but she is in no condition to get up and start running. Broken bones will do that. The ground makes a strange noise as I pull the pickaxe out of it. She begins to moan with every hammering thud of the pickaxe. I only imagine what it is she is thinking.

It should come as no surprise that I’m digging her grave tonight. She tries to roll over, but it’s hard with broken ribs. She grips the grass digging her nails into the dirt as she tries to pull away from her new home in the ground. Her attempts are useless she’s only hurting herself on her own now. She uses all her strength to scream again. With each one of her screams I can hear her pain and I like it. I take the shovel now and dig out the loosened ground piling it next to her. I throw chunks of earth on her face to give her a taste of her new home and to give her whining a rest even if it is only for a moment. She tries to spit the mud out of her mouth. She can’t get it all. The outline of the hole isn’t rather large, but I don’t need it to be I can fit her body anyway I need. After what seems like a life time of building up her final resting place it is big enough to fit her broken body. I pick her up and she tries to bite my neck and scratch my shirtless back. The mud on her nails doesn’t allow her the pleasure of hurting me. She slams on to her back as I throw her into her grave. “What do you know a perfect fit,” I spit into her face. She cries out, but it only hurts to cry at this point. She musters up the strength to say, “You’ll never get away with this you piece of shit.” I slam the pickaxe down one last time silencing her one last attempt to piss me off. “I know, but that’s all right,” I tell her dying body.

I leave the pickaxe sitting in her forehead and pick up the shovel. The removed earth splashes against her dead face. Falling into her open mouth and covering her opened eyes. It would look beautiful, but my mind is in another place. “Your world is dead to me. Your laws mean nothing,” I scream at her dead body as I fill her grave. The cops will arrive in the morning thanks to the concerned neighbors, but it’s too late and it doesn’t matter. No one will be a hero for taking me in. Someone will try to become one though. They will write a shitty book about their heroic actions at the scene, made up lies told in attempt to make a dollar off my actions tonight. They will give me some catchy name like Pickaxe Murderer or the Death Bringer or something fake and stupid. All the while I rotten in some jail cell waiting to die, but I’m already dead inside.

They will try to retire off my name and become a legend, but what they don’t realize is that they will only make my legend grow in the mindless sheep of the world. I finish burying her body and smooth over the dirt on top. The handle of the pickax is still sticking out of the dirt pointing to the house. I figure this is a good enough grave maker if any. Wonder how long it will take to “find” me I think as I walk back to the house. I open the side door and walk to the recliner next to the sofa. I pull the lever to release the leg rest and lean back. It’s going to be a long day, so I better rest up.

I don’t like to comment on stories and there is no reason for that, but… This one is actually part of a series of stories… The story actually doesn’t follow one character, but several in an attempt to explore the evolution of murder…. I think that this story and each part can hold up on its own, but if you’d like to read the others they are available in my book Drinking Bleach….