Misunderstood The Day Once Again… Something Different…

Standing Here

Tearing at the edges, pulled apart but I won’t give up
Forcing out the thoughts that have built up
The ones about life, the ones that put me here
Right or wrong still standing right here
Would I change anything if I knew
If I thought it would erase this hurt, pain, thoughts
Reading through old pages as though they are new
I don’t know
Who are we, who am I
Thoughts stacked up over time
Waiting to be washed away
Page for page, moments in time
God only gives us as much as we can handle
Volumes of dead trees about how I feel
What’s the point of all these thoughts
Drifting in the wind, tear them out
Sliding down the hill, give in already
Drowning in the lake, head above the clouds
I don’t see heaven, but I can see hell
Burning every part, scorching the skin left in place
Smoking filling the lungs, ashes left in the dark
If god knows why, why won’t they say
Left with nothing but questions and doubts
Leading up to something or nothing at all?
Tearing at the edges, trying to think of what to say
Forcing out the feelings I feel inside
The ones about life, the ones that put me here
Right or wrong watching them burn
Edge for edge, thought for thought, truth or lie
Doesn’t matter as long as it leaves me standing here
I don’t know, I guess

Layne Ambrose

I plan my days in advance… then I try to fit them into some sort of schedule… hints why there is a depressing poem about life on a holiday about being thankful… in the US of course… I wasn’t trying to be ironic… but it seems the world is serendipitous to my intentions… this cycle hits some other holidays as well… so it seems this will be a theme this year… can’t say I care very much… but I did at least notice at the last minute…

So in the spirit of the day… I thought I should share things I am grateful for… my family of course… for putting up with my bull shit on a day to day basis… if you think this website is anything… too depressing… too vulgar… to dark… haha… well this is edited… so you are welcome… if you don’t think any of those things… well you are probably a family member… and you are also welcome… : )

I also want to say thank you to everyone who has bought a book… or all of them… to anyone who has bought a shirt… a sticker… or anyone who has decided that they need a new wardrobe… to each and everyone of you who hits “Like” or leaves a comment… all these things may seem small or unimportant… but any and all of your support… means the world to me… thank you… from the bottom of my cold heart…

I couldn’t do any of this without you all… I get lost in my selfishness sometimes… but you are all still very much on my mind… front and center… So thank you to all my… family… friends… and everyone in between… Enjoy the day… holiday or not… enjoy each and every day… because we only get so many… I just want you to know… it is a pleasure spending even the tiniest of these moments with you… hope all is well…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Stickers… Shirts… So Much More…
Get The Word Out Any Way You’d Like…

Thank You…

Something Different… Once Again… Q & A…

It is once again time to play Tell It Like It Is… and for you to find out more about your favorite writer here at Chewing On Glass… it goes without saying… which means it has to be said… I also happen to be the best writer that Is That A Funeral? has on their roster… I said it… telling it like it is… enough with the lame intro… lets get into this already… (If this is your first time… basically I draw three to four random cards with questions on them and I answer them… why?… no one… including me… has the slightest clue…)

Question 1: How Do You Look When You Get Angry?

Not really sure how to answer this one… mostly because I can’t see myself… also… it would be beyond frightening… if for some reason… in my free time… I sat around staring into a mirror getting pissed off… I mean because I don’t…

I’ve been told that I look pissed off most of the time… by just about everyone that I know… which presents a whole set of problems when I actually get angry… because no one has a fucking clue… which pisses me off even more… and it is around this time the cops have me pinned to the ground… it is a whole thing… all I’m saying is that I don’t liked to be touched… or when I’m not angry… people like to tell me that I am… or are afraid of me… being afraid of me really isn’t a problem though…

Question 2: If You Had To Move And Could Take Only Three Things With You, What Would You Take?

This question would have been way harder a few years ago… I am assuming when they say move… they mean move from one place around the house to the other… in that case… I need my laptop… my writing folder… and a pen… but my head is not that far up my ass… so the three things I would need if I was moving…

Thing 1… My laptop with my writing folder and a pen strapped to it… (I could have said my writing bag… too late to change the answer now…)

Thing 2… My wife with our child strapped to her back and a change of clothes… (I could have said my family… but I suck at thinking on my feet… (Not really… I’m mostly lazy… and don’t want to press backspace…))

Thing 3… My blanket… because I have some weird unresolved issues from moving way too much as a child… and lets face it I am a little broken… (No side comment for this one… though I guess I could have made my wife carry that as well… not a big enough asshole for that… (then again… I do have my laptop in my hands as well… so maybe I should have her carry it?…))

Question 3: Share A Big Let-Down In Your Life.

Not actually a question game… but feel free to click on any previous post I have written… kindle and paperback editions of my let-downs are also available on Amazon… can’t give them all away for free…

Question 4: What Color Do You Think Of When You Think Of Happiness?

Easy ass day for me… Black… that is the color I think of for happiness… I mean it goes with everything… all my clothes are black… my wife only wears black… (my daughter likes blue… we aren’t really sure she is ours…) my pens are black… my laptop… my file folders… my switch… Umbreon is black… my dogs… if I had a cat… I’m sure most if not all of my soul… trying to think of all the things that make me happy… I should get some black candles… what would that even smell like?… I should make my own candles… and this is how my brain works… brought to you by Tell It Like It Is

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Is That A Funeral? Shop Is Always Open…

Huffing Glass 101… Something Different…

I’m not qualified to teach anyone anything… to be fair though this isn’t really me teaching anything… honestly this just seemed like a fun idea… I have done it in the past… kind of… so I thought I would give it a try again in a more formal setting… this won’t become a set thing… because again I am not qualified at all… but I thought it could be fun to learn a little bit about the process… Welcome to Huffing Glass 101… today’s lesson will be about Broken Thoughts… where they come from… how it works… and why it doesn’t… lets talk about writing…

Huffing Glass 101

The first part of the process is pretty basic… write some shit down… have some thoughts kicking around in your head… nothing special about this first part… for me though… a thought can be either a poem… a story… or in this case a Broken Thought…

Broken Thoughts was born out of necessity… based on time and place… I tend to have a lot of thoughts kicking in my head during work… right before… on the drive too and from… sitting around… I’m a thinker… I can’t shut the shit off… even when I want too or need too… nothing special about that either… often I find myself with only a few minutes here or there to write something down…

Before I started using my cellphone to capture these moments… I was all about pen and paper… I had a lot less poems in my bag of tricks then… because well… looking for a pen or a piece of paper when you are stocking shelves is rather difficult… also your pockets can only hold so much cardboard before you start to make everything real awkward… people ask a lot of questions when you have pockets full of cardboard and zero intentions of throwing them away… Switching to using my phone has really saved me a lot of time… effort… and overall comfort in my pants… that sounds weird…

But what to do with these tiny moments… sentences that fly by so quick that I barely have enough time to remember where or how they came to me… you could save them… gather them together… and do something with them later… if you are like me though… my writing is a time and place type of process… I often can’t expand on something if the moment has passed… it is no longer raw… and I don’t look at it the same… so my process is an all or nothing approach to writing… it leaves me with a lot of thoughts all broken up… pages upon pages…

Which leads us to how it works for me… I started this website three years ago… I started off with poems… stories… you probably already know this… well I ran out pretty quick… had a lot of cardboard laying around though… not all of it good… great… or in some case anything I am willing to share… Broken Thoughts was born out of again… necessity… after a while I found that I enjoyed it more than just doing poems… or writing out a story… there is something to the basics of it…

I don’t want to compare my Broken Thoughts to a haiku… because they are not anywhere close to the art of such things… but they are very similar in theory and idea… I don’t have any actual rules to my Broken Thoughts… I don’t have any set out intentions of writing any either… I try to just get the thought out… each and everyone of them so I don’t forget…

Sometimes a Broken Thought becomes a poem… or even a story… sometimes it just is what it is… I try not to shy away from anything… because we never know what it will become… losing track here… so I gather them all together… separate them by months… and then move on…

That’s where the website comes in… I print out my Broken Thoughts… come up with a title for the heading… and then I start the dig… as I stated before… I can’t seem to remember or grasp the same head space as before… so the website helps me rewrite them because as I do… I think of new lines… fix old ones… basically I edit until I actually have something… this sometimes changes the point… outcome… or thought all together… here is an example…

Original Thought

Destroying everything was never difficult
Cutting out pieces of me
Every goddamn day
How much of me is even left
Repetition is the key
Replaying these thoughts in my head
Scream them enough and they
Will become true
Enjoy the logic but the theory
Is too goddamn much
Dragging my soul through each day
Swinging at an invisible enemy
Drowning myself with nothing to gain

(Perfectly fine Broken Thought…)

Rewritten Broken Thought

Destroying everything was never difficult
Cutting out pieces of me
Every goddamn day
How much of me is even left
Repetition is the key
Repetition is all I need (new line)
Replaying these thoughts in my head
Scream them enough and they in silence
They will become true
Enjoy the logic but the theory
Is too goddamn much
For one soul to take (new line)
Dragging my soul self through each day
Swinging at an invisible enemy
Drowning myself with nothing to gain
Fucking hero and villain
No longer see the difference

This one ended up being longer… sometimes they are this long and then I cut them down to a whole lot less… this one could have even been a poem if I thought of more lines… but I wasn’t feeling any more lines.. it is a feeling thing for me… I think that is how I am able to separate the dark thoughts from my life… the “darkness”… depression… doesn’t last forever… it comes in waves… so I’m not always down in it…

Which leads to why it doesn’t work… I’m not always depressed… it comes and goes… so sometimes when I am editing… working with… Broken Thoughts… even I am thinking God damn… but that is where the fiction and the truth of my thoughts rub against each other… I thought it at one point… I felt it at some point… but do I feel it now?… maybe… that can be frustrating because instead of having a poem… I have four lines… that I can’t get in the head space of…

The process also doesn’t work because… I have often have a lot of the same lines floating around… the same themes… so I have days of the same concepts written out… I try to condense them to one single post… or spread them out during a cycle… some I have to save for another time… or the books… because I don’t want to dwell on the same things all damn day… nothing special there either…

That’s the process from thought… to cardboard… to the website… and every where in between… if you take anything from this… it would repetition is key… don’t throw anything away… look at it again at another day… and remember nothing worth anything doesn’t come without work… even the most simplest things… come with a lot of steps to get there… keep your head high and follow your dreams… you will get somewhere someday… just remember to enjoy the journey…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Next month we will take a look at how I pull my head out of my own ass… just kidding it never leaves… we might do something on titles… stories… or who the hell knows…

New Stories… Never Before Seen…
New Thoughts… Not Enjoyed…
New Poems… Well to Read…
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Chewing On Glass Presents… Fact or Fiction…

“I know your life is a never ending nightmare full of horror and deceit. I know you are often at odds with yourself and this horrid thing called life. Every morning is filled with contempt as you have this endless debate on whether or not you should kill yourself in your shower or while your K-cup brews or in your car that is neither new nor old but works just fine. These things I know because I’m sitting right next to you. These things I know because I’m looking at the same things you are. These things I know because we share the same eco-friendly renewable water source in the same god damn forsaken city on the banks of some form of water. I know all these things, I think all these things because I too live a life of perfect balanced, zero struggle life know as modern society. Chances are we think the same exact way but out of pure boredom let’s say I don’t. Because we have to be different in this world. We have to be special when it comes to things like this in life. Odds are against us though. Dictated by our most basic thoughts. Experiences we believe to be different, unique in and of themselves. We went to the same school, learned from the same books, ate the same shitty food, and lived near perfect replicas of the same life. Let me guess you played doctor? Let me guess you owned a copy of GTA 3? Let me guess you couldn’t catch’em all on paper or digitized? Let me guess you thought you were special? Well you’re not, you and I are more alike than you and I might think. We are so close you and I that we could be one in the same. Chances are we are in fact the same robotic, institutionalized, modern guilt individuals walking side by side right now. We could say hello to one another but we won’t. We could relate our dream suicide scenario but we won’t. We could discuss just how much we actually hate each other but we won’t. Because what’s the point? Why tell you everything you already know? Why bother letting you in on our little secrets? We all have secrets, guilty pleasures, they are all the same but we have them. We imagine that they are the little things that make us different. That the tidbits of information we hold dear separate us from fact and fiction. When really there is no such thing separating us at all. We live a life of fact and fiction. We live a life of knowing we are the same, fact. We live a life thinking in some way we are different, fiction. We live lives that are exactly the same. We fuck women and men who are exactly the same. We blindly follow the dumbest of our kind because we know that they are the same. We read books and stories, watch movies and shows on people or about people who are exactly the same. Like you I will do nothing to change this. Like you I will be proud of what I have become. Like you I will ride this life into the ground hoping for something better but being served up the exact same thing. There is no difference between animal and man we were put here to do the exact same thing, suffer until our last dying breathe.”

“What an interesting report Timothy,” the teacher calls out from behind her desk. “Not quite “A” material but informative all the same in its own way. Go ahead and take your seat with the rest of the class.” She shuffles some papers. Disheveled herself, “Umm, if we could have Stephanie, Stephanie Keaton come up next.” Stephanie gets up from her seat and takes her place at the head of the class. “Now Stephanie why don’t you tell us something fun you’ve learned this summer.”

At least Timothy knows what the hell is going on… this twist was a last minute addition… one added without thought… the best kinds… been a while since I wrote this… but I’m sure this was meant to be some big speech… some epic quest to prove to myself… prove to everyone… the shallow pool we inhabit… I think it worked… even if Tim Tim has a long way to drag his corpse… I think there is something inherently interesting behind the idea of a child rattling off dark thoughts…

Something hidden beyond the surface of innocence… maybe because at times I feel like a child trapped in an adults body… screaming… this is fucked up… and being greeted with deaf ears… No one cares about anything until it starts happening to them… until it is too late… and then… well then it doesn’t really matter does it?… by then it has become the new normal… something to add to the shit pile… and something to embrace… to accept as part of life… well that wasn’t at all fun Stephanie…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Get Ready For Winter and Show Off Your Love of Cats… or Glass… Whatever You Are Into Is Fine With Me…

Until we meet again… I hope all is well… Thank you to all of those that read their way through my mind… thank you for all the support… big or small… Take care of yourself… keeping working towards your dream… and I’ll see you back here once again…

Ambrose

Not Everything Is A Joke… But Maybe It Is… Broken Thoughts…

Just have to close your eyes and wait to die
A never ending nightmare laced with
A never ending existence contracted at birth
Digging through the past of it all
Built to last even if the mind doesn’t believe
The spirit locked someplace else in time
Just have to close your eyes and believe everything is alright
A never ending day laced with
A never ending need to die
Shuffling through all the times feeling like this
Made it through even when the mind didn’t believe
The soul is so much bigger than our immediate problems

There’s a woman who sleeps in my bed… I often wonder if she is alive or dead…

Stop searching for meaning
Sold my soul to a broken thought
Too long ago I gave away everything
These thoughts are all I left
Worthless sense of existence
You could never hate as much as I could
Distract myself but it always comes back
The feelings aren’t how I feel
Who I am
Acceptance they say is the first step
I give in, now what’s next
The silence is deadly inside my head
Broken put back together with glue
The cracks never go away
Waiting to fall once again
Always waiting for it all to fall apart
The only way I know how to live

Grinding out the days between then and now…

Chain smoking in the parking lot
You’ve probably past me
More times than you know
Keep going, there’s no saving
What’s already been gone
A mind destroyed
A soul let go
Think this is warning
Only the facts leaking out
Keep your distance
Pushed away and now everyone wants to know
Is everything okay
What do you think
On the edge
Pushing towards a ledge
Can I save you
Can I help throw you away

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Not everything is a joke inside my head… hard to separate what is what though… I have a dark sense of humor… and I never laugh at the right time… before I take on a mountain of shit… first thought break is about my daughter… felt to creepy to say there is a girl who sleeps in my bed… and if you are a parent… that line will make more sense… or if you are crazy like me it will make more sense… it is basically this thought… fear… that your child isn’t breathing…

I can face most things in this world… but I’m not sure I could face that one… I can bullshit all day about how this is all for me… for my wife… for the world… but all of this and every day is about that little creature I call my daughter… so that is where that line comes from…

That last thought probably sounds like a call for help… but it is more of a reaction to my writing… and how people treat each other in person… there is a fine line between invasive and caring… we often don’t know if anything or everything is okay until it is too late… so there is that feeling flowing through that… slammed shut by the last line… we may miss signs that we should have or could have helped… but the big thing that we miss is actually how we treat others… the context is missing here…

I’m aware that I look like a monster… something to fear… but I can’t help the way that I was born… I didn’t choose this face and until this book career takes off… I’m stuck looking like this… but without any reason… people fear me and refuse to talk to me… even when I offer help… I get watched in stores… even though I’ve never stole anything and think the idea behind stealing anything would be worthless… but my beliefs aren’t tattooed to my skin… I’ve grown a thick skin… I understand why people react the way that they do… I’ve made peace with it since I was a child… but that last line… “Can I help throw you away.” stems from the fact that I am still human… I can still feel your dislike for me without any context… you didn’t even give me a change… we pass judgement with no thought at all… won’t change… the way we are… but it still hurts…

Those feelings are what I am talking about… they build up… you try to not let them… but I know they do… which brings me to the point that we only care until it is too late… we fail to see that our reactions… words… treatment of others… is what started this cycle… can’t say I’m not guilty of such actions… despite my past dealing with such feelings… I still go out of my way to make sure I treat everyone with respect… and yes… some people are just assholes…

A fun game I like to play is to be extra nice to those people… nothing hurts more than when you realize you are being an asshole for no reason… that look on their face is priceless… I like to do this to Cops… TSA agents… and customers… people with “Authority” because at the end of the day we are all just human… at the end of the day we are just trying to get to point A to B… no reason I have found that we can’t be decent about it…

With that… don’t forget to check out my books… drop a review… tell me I suck… that I am good… I know I’m not great… but every review helps… If you could help throw myself away… that would be awesome… haha…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass Presents… I Awake with Bruised Eyes and Hollowed Out Lies

I look at the world, seven minutes cold, flashes of life, and passed out drunk. I awake with burning, stinging, sleepless eyes. I awake with a sense of belonging and at the same time a longing. Awaken but yet I must still be dreaming. Dreaming for something better or something worse. I awake with my dick still standing. Standing at full attention looking for any attention. Ready to release one more load or another gallon of piss. The decision is not on the brain, but in a gateway smaller than I can imagine. Made of flesh and blood as is the rest of me. This is every morning. This is a constant. These are the things I think about and I do not know why.

The bad taste that has slipped into my mouth overnight doesn’t go away even after I try to brush it out or smoke in a replacement taste. My teeth hurt like they have been grinding away layer by layer all night. It’s the little stresses that kill you not the big stuff. It is the little stuff that slowly eats you alive. Taking this and taking that but in the end they take everything anyways. If you are one of the lucky ones you won’t even notice the discomfort. I notice every little instants and yet I let it happen. Hell I join in on the pleasure every now and then. Daily. I smoke another with the taste still very much intact. I didn’t need another one, but at this point what is one more? One more nail, one more stake in the heart. Tiny needles pressing against my chest cavity heading for my soul. It wasn’t the taste or even my dick that woke me up today earlier than death or even the sound of a crying baby. No, it was a dream, a light version of a nightmare that is my life.

My dream, nightmare, inner vision was about my grandmother. A devil of a woman whom without I wouldn’t be standing here today. Allegedly there is no scientific facts to back up these claims. I hate my grandmother. She was a bitch. Therapy could help me describe my true inner feelings better, but she’d still be a bitch. In the dream she pretends to be a sleep as my grandfather rattles off a list of shit she would like for dinner. She has exact instructions on what she wants and how she wants it to be. Treated like a slave in life and in my dreams I feel bad for my grandfather. It was no wonder he went a little crazy. It was no wonder they found him in possession of a trunk full of dead cats and a collection of women underwear. Luckily it didn’t go any further than that or you might have heard of him. He lives in a cozy little place far removed from society now. Better put he is basically dead.

“This but not that. Make sure you get it right or else,” she says in my mind and my dream. Or what the fat bitch is going to get her lazy ass out of bed and kick your ass? She hasn’t left that bed by choice in maybe a year. Conversations with myself always seem one-sided. I can see her while she fakes being asleep. Patiently listening to make sure he plays his part as always. He says one more thing before I awoke, “We know all about your past experience with food, but we also know you always screw up.” What do you think that the dream meant? I hope it means that she is or will be dying, but she is already dead. Not a loss or a gain just more of the nothing that fills this world. Shouldn’t waste my time on people who don’t matter, didn’t matter, or don’t care. The brain doesn’t work like that though.

They still find their way through though don’t they? Slip through the cracks no one knew were even there. Tear the wall down and leave you with nothing but rubble. Drinking could be the reason, life could be the other, and living without a purpose could be the answer I’m looking for. How am I to live with so many distractions? A gun fight erupts outside, a flood down the street drowns hundreds, and yet I sit staring at a screen looking for answers.Ignoring everything that is going on around me. Her little eyes scream for attention and the sound to follow. The present is only for a moment but the past is a life time.

This is a fiction story… I guess that goes without saying… Some of it is real… I did have a dream that woke me up… and a lot of it is false…My grandmother is still alive… still an asshole… I should be more empathetic to my grandmother… many of us have lost theirs already… but then again you were probably loved by yours…

I’m not bitter… even as I try to not come off as such… Life is life… enjoy it while you can and with the ones you love… don’t waste time spending it with people who don’t give you back everything you put in… We are all worth more than that…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Say It With Your Chest…

Shuffle The Deck… Q & A…

Getting to know me a can be quite the chore… believe it or not I’m a pretty quiet person… so unless provoked… I’m not going to say a whole lot… So lets shuffle the deck and learn more about me in three to four questions… Because no one asked… The Ungame has begun…

Question 1: What Do You Think About When You Can’t Fall Asleep?

This question is rather strange to me… I know that it is asking what do I think about if I actually laid down in a bed to fall asleep and couldn’t?.. but I work overnights so… I tend to pass out rather than go… hey I think I am tired… maybe I should lie down and get some good solid sleep… Which makes my broken brain think the question is… When you can’t fall asleep because you need to stay awake… What do you think about… So in the spirit of all of this I will answer both I guess…

What do I think about that puts me to sleep?

This kind of screws me over a lot… some of my best lines… stories… ideas… have been written right as I fall asleep… sometimes I able to snap out of it and try to write the best line that I can remember down… but it still isn’t the same… super excited for brain implants that can record your thoughts… or maybe I shouldn’t be?.. whatever worth the jail time if I could just remember the damn words inside my head… To combat this feeling of lose every night… I tell myself the same story every time I am actively trying to fall asleep…

Which is super private… did you think I was going to tell you my top secret story?.. Honestly it is pretty boring and stupid… It always starts out with the first line… “Some nights were colder than others, but in the dead of winter all nights seems to be the coldest they will ever be.”… Then I just go off from there… about how I live in isolation and need to find a way tomorrow to survive the end of the world by zombie apocalypse… the reason I start off with that line though is that I like to be cold when I sleep… set the tone and drift off to sleep…

What I think about to not fall asleep at work?

This varies quite a bit… I think of how to solve problems at work… I think about how some people at work are total fucking assholes… I think of how to solve a world problem or local problem such as hunger, poverty, or something I have zero control over… but if I could… I also think a lot about the things I will get done when I get home… dinner… and on more occasions than I would like… how sad and worthless I am in this world for not being able to do anything about the things I can’t control and the things I can… how I won’t get any writing done… that all my dreams are bullshit and ten years from now I will be doing the same thing over and over again… because hell is a place on earth… you know fun stuff to keep the mind sharp… these Broken Thoughts basically write themselves at a certain point…

Question 2: What Is Your Favorite Room In Your House? Why?

As always I have two… but it wasn’t always that way… My favorite room is my garage because that is where I write so I spend a lot of time in here… though really I can and do write everywhere… really I just put it together here… which gives it a positive and negative vibe… positive because I’m getting work done… finishing stories and ideas that I have been thinking about for weeks and months… sometimes years… negative because as much as I like writing… trying to be a professional writer really takes the piss out of the enjoyment of writing… now it is work… and I’m lazy… one pass is good enough for me… so what if it doesn’t make any sense?.. haha…

Which leads me to my new favorite room in the house… recently my wife got new outdoor furniture for the sun room… so I like to just sit out there and read for hours… think about life… and wonder why we didn’t do this sooner… so I like that room because there is no pressure to do anything… there is nothing on the walls… there is no TV… and all that I can hear is the squirrels trying to bang one another… pretty peaceful… helps mellow out my chaotic mind… something I never thought I would say I enjoy…

Question 3: If You Could Take Only 3 People With You On a Trip Around The World, Who Would You Take?

Finally an easy question… My wife… my daughter… and my mom… would be the most relaxing trip ever…….

Question 4: What Part Of A Big Parade Would You Like To Be?

Depends on the parade I guess… is a funeral a parade?… what kind of parade would I even be featured in?… this question raises too many other questions to be properly answered at this time… short answer I would not want to be part of any parade and fear that is a parade for my own execution… in which case… front of the god damn line… lets get this over with already…

Layne Amborse
Is
Chewing On Glass

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Broken Thoughts Vol. 1 Between Me and You…

Chewing On Glass Presents… Much To Discover…

    So, as you can see I have clearly lost my mind. Oh, wait please forgive me. I forgot that I took your eyes. You can’t see anything so, allow me to describe the horrors you are about to feel and most certainly taste. Hey, have you tasted blood before? Nothing? No Answer? How rude of me you have no tongue which to speak. How silly of me to keep forgetting the things I have already done to prepare for this evening. If by now you don’t think I’m crazy you really should start. That warm iron taste, the one that reminds you of childhood, picking off old scabs, and licking away the blood is from the parts of your tongue that just won’t heal. It should taste sick at first, but by the end of all of this it will become comforting as you hold on to what memories you have left. My apologies regardless, but you have been more than difficult during all of this. I envy you none the less, you know? No one has ever treated me this way despite my demands. I’d pay good money for an experience such as this. It’s always too sick or too wrong. That’s how this all started. Worthless sex workers. I didn’t want it to go this far. Do you believe me? What difference does it matter? They set me free from all my pain. Hopefully I can do for you what others were too afraid to do for me. Excuse my laughter I was remembering the screams and inevitable reminders of past mistakes. The memories like to bounce back in place while I work. Well enough of this talking let’s begin the fun. Never. Never shake your head no at me you sniveling cunt. I’ll cut your dick off and ram it down your throat. Is that clear? Sorry, that was unfair. You didn’t deserve that outburst. It’s just. It is hard being on this side of the veil you know? We’re good right? Your hair is so soft it calms the nerves. Good take a deep breath, first things first we must maintain the sharpness of the blades.

God, isn’t that a sexy sound? I use to do this beforehand Out of sight. Out of mind kind of thing. Always be prepared, but where’s the fun in that? That’s good keep up the moaning. I like that you still try to make words. It’s a little hard to understand you without a tongue in your mouth. If only you could see how hard I am you might appreciate what’s going on. It interests me to see how the muscles get removed from bone. Have you ever watched a butcher work? It’s like magic. The skill, the craft, the determination. It’s almost as if the knife is his hand or part of him. My father use to be a butcher and I’m embarrassed to say that the papers call me the same. I am not my father. I don’t have the skill my father had. It is almost insulting you know? Being compared to a skilled profession such as that. This is more trial and error than anything else. He used to come home smelling of blood and death. Some days he would let me skip school and let me go to the shop with him. He used to say, “One day my boy you will be a butcher.” That is about all he ever said to me. That or this is for your own good before he would beat me. That’s it that simple. Life at times is only that simple. Right or wrong simple minded thought. We know different don’t we? We’ve seen more than just the butcher block. For all his skill and all his talent he was nothing more than a dumb piece of shit is what I mean. He didn’t like my reading, jealous of my education. A transition of the times from craft to thought.

Long story short he disappeared shortly after my eighteenth birthday. Mother closed the shop and I inherited the very knifes you can feel today so, in a way the papers and my father were right and believe me that makes me very unhappy. I thought about becoming a doctor once. Hey, hey you still with me? Good, but now I am only sure that I will be studied by one. Don’t know how that is going to work though as I’m fairly aware that I am what one might call crazy, but then again it’s not me they have to convince it is the twelve other people. Now for the fun part at least for me anyways. I never liked going to the dentist myself, but if I don’t at least pull out most of your teeth fucking your mouth gets a little rough after your dead. There I go laughing again. I had you going didn’t I? I mean I am going to rip out your teeth, but what kind of sick freak do you think I am? Do you honestly believe me too be that far gone? Sit still now this is going to hurt unfortunately. A byproduct of all of this but if I snap the tooth rather than pull it. Well you’ll only have to feel it happening again, but don’t worry I have needle nose pliers as well. Your choice though honestly I can go either way. Shh… Stop your shaking or you are only going to make it that much worse. I know that some of it is involuntary, but you really must try to calm yourself. Think of something peaceful. A happy moment from the past. Your childhood maybe? The laughter is involuntary as well I must say. Man the fuck up already. We’ve made it this far. What’s a little more pleasure? Wait… Did you hear that? Fuck, mother is home. I guess we will just have to finish this later. She hates it when I work in my room. Try not to die now. You promise? Promise you won’t die on me. We still have much to discover about each other.

Not too sure when I wrote this… another take on one of my favorite subjects… torture… this story is more about the little details… for me at least… I like to take similar scenes from the past… and expand on them in some way… that makes it sound like I have someone tied up in my garage… haha… I don’t… not yet at least… but it’s the other twelve people I have to convince… not you…

This as been another installment of Fun With Words or Is He Crazy?… Truth be told what’s the difference any more?… Enjoy talking to myself in the dark none the less… Until tomorrow… I hope all is well…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Is that a cat on a sweater?… yes… yes it is… Get yours before it gets cold… Better safe than sorry… Not convinced?… Maybe it is… is on a shirt as well..

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Bright Blue And Shimmering…

What do you say with a million lives to say it? What do you do with a million days to do it? An endless array of endlessness that accumulates into a pool of endless ocean. A fully powered and operational confusion ray shown across a thousand skies would still not explain all the confusion I feel inside. The isolation of all the knowledge that needs to be said greatly increases the feelings closing in on me. The pages have become displayed on the walls. Three layers thick and making no sense at all. The words bleed together like poetry at first. But after long consideration the words mean nothing at all. Turn the page. Start again. See what comes out and in the end find no solace at all. What is the meaning of this madness? What is a lifetime spelled out in words?

I pace the room once again. Careful to not knock over the stacks. The pages that could not fit on the wall without nails. Hammer and blood. Zig zagging through future trash. The trash that riddles my mind. Have I said all that I mean or mean what I’ve said at all? The words trickle out like a stream that will one day be a waterfall. A tiny hole in my head that won’t stop leaking. The thought becomes dizzying.  Dazed and consumed by all the words. I bump one of the stacks. It cascades threw out the room like a great wave of the coast of some mystical land. It blends and bends its will to all the other stacks piled up across the land. I stand in a sea of words, an ocean of thought. Even as I stare at each one. Remembering each pen stroke for what it was once worth. I can think of no meaning. No cause to add to this madness I have chosen to live.

Stare at each word. Each letter spelling out syllables and sounds. Meaning escapes me along the thoughts. Every passing moment descends further into nothing at all. The depths from under my skin. Flesh and blood. Meat without a taste. I can hear words as they echo out of the screams. Words played against a black screen. Images played to the silence of it all. A hollow sound that repeats. Blood drops, drops from somewhere though I am unsure where. A stream of red. A clue left behind? A whooshing sound blocks out the silence of thought. The blood pumps harder and faster within my head. Drip, drip. I can’t hear the noise. I can only feel it as I follow the trail. In circles I spin. Brushing up against the scattered pages of my mind. My bare legs chewed up amongst the pages. My blood bring new life to the words. Washing away letter for letter. Ideas for idea. Lost to the soul and pouring out of my head. A war fought bloody and hard. I continue to circle around the words like a vulture circles a dead carcass. I will find an answer to all this madness.

I haven’t showered in days. The new words keep pouring out all around me. The body riddled with sharp pains. I fear that I have become sick amongst the stacks. To quit now would mean that I should have never started at all. I’ve long since run out of paper. Resorting on writing scraps and bits of blood soaked left overs. I have lost track of where this is all going, but did I ever know? Follow the words. Follow the thoughts. Ideas set us free. Ideas separate the man from the beast. It is all here. Word for word. On display for any one with the time.

“A lost generation hoping for something to happen with the littlest effort at all. We all want to be millionaires, but no one has the heart to tell us that it won’t happen. No one has the heart to tell us shit.” Words cut out of my very chest. A pound of flesh I once called a heart. “They are all too scared, too afraid we’ll go shooting up the place. Our fragile minds can’t take the simplest of heart breaks. They fear that our trigger happy, unsympathetic, systematic minds with snap, and they are right for all the wrong reasons.” Man before the beast. Beast before the man. The call for blood of the innocent. The lives of a thousand sons and daughters. Is this not the calling of man? “Fear is nothing more than power. Fear is a manipulative tool used to take over the mind. They us the fear of it all to keep control. Governments, kingdoms, religion, and lies use the same tactics. Fear of the fear to keep control. Place in time. Fear equals control and control is fear. An impasse of conflicted ideas that have worked all too well.” Fitting in as the skin covers my mouth. Embraced by the society that birthed me. “A stabbed out swollen eye of infected corneas lathered so thick with bullshit that all we see is darkness. What about what is next? What happens in the end if no one stands up to the fleeting masses? The controls left in the hands of children. Evolution dictates that a change will cause adaptation to the original species. A rift will develop, slowly filling up with the lost illusion we once held.” Truth written in blood and disguised by lies of the mind. How could they ever lose control? More like them hidden amongst us like weeds that grow from the shit stuck in our eyes. “A river of deceit with a sediment so rich lies will grow like wild flowers amongst what is left of the masses. One could only hope. Giant man powered robots will reign supreme amongst the rubble of civilization. One great civilization shall rise from the ashes of our mistakes and in the end all the right will be wronged and all wrongs shall be righted.” A prophecy fore told in the shadows of the moon light on scrapped bits of paper. Cover the light with words and turn it off.

This is actually two ideas mashed together… a bit of a long post so I will keep it short… Nothing like a bit of madness to get your day started… Originally this was supposed to be used for a much bigger project about a writer losing his mind to the words… I got four pages deep when I realized no one wants to read about exactly what they are going through… So I chose all the best lines from that failed project… and tried my best to make sense out of it… or no sense at all… I just breathe the words… I don’t have to live them… and yet in some ways I do…

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Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Had A Lot Less To Say… Q & A..

Time for three or four random questions to be answers… no one asked but here we go… Questions provided by the fabulous Ungame… never heard of it?… there might be a reason…

Question 1: What Is Your Best Friend Like?

She is the type of person… that you’d want to hang on a wall… put on display… someone you always want to be there… and when she is not… you can really feel it… deep down in your soul… luckily I have a wall for such things…

Question 2: Finish The Sentence “The Best Thing About Today Is…”

That I’m not the only one using ellipses… too lame… That I didn’t strangle anyone at work… too obvious… That I didn’t have to tell my daughter to pick up her dead things… too illogical… because I checked out as a parent today… That I got to do something I wanted to do today… Just right…

Question 3: If You Could Live Anyplace In The World – Where Would It Be?

Wow… this is a hard one… because I want to live every where… but I will try to limit to… Japan… South Africa… Australia… Antarctica… Sweden… Norway… Finland… South Korea… Madagascar… if I am limited to the United States… then Alaska… Maine… North Dakota… Montana… everywhere I am not basically… haha… someplace cold… isolated… and has a lot of Asian food… I need trees too… In my head I guess…

Question 4: What Do You Like To Do In Your Spare Time?

What the fuck is spare time?… I enjoy a lot of things… I spend most of it writing though… I love doing that… I always enjoy collecting dead things… bird skulls… I need more… Legos… destroying piece of wood or as I like to call them projects… I’d say listening to music… but I do that with everything… reading… whatever my daughter wants me to do… hide and seek… floor is lava… Minecraft… trying to find time to spend with my wife… watching true crime documentaries… I’m pretty boring…

Layne Ambrose

Got out of that one pretty easy… more random questions to come… next month… looking for words?… check the links below…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter