Shorter Is Always Better…

Only Way This Ends

Weak against the strong
The current will carry us all
How your treat one
Will determine how we fall
Weak against the strong
The current situation affects us all
The weak verses the strong
The weak against the strong
Who will kill us all

 

Five More Minutes

Running out of things to say
Might be time to take a break
And run away
A way from the guilt
All the pain
Times are tough even
With a mind full of shit to say
Wish it all could go away
Treated, medicated the time has passed
Forgetting, forgiveness it all couldn’t last
Can’t let go of the past
Dreading the future of all things left
Predicting predictions full of shit
Time last forever in my head

 

Chewing On Glass Logo

Chewing On Glass

Going retro with the logo today… Which despite being done by the amazing artist… Jock… doesn’t really fit the whole aesthetic of what I’m trying to do here… then again what the fuck am I doing here?… haha… also I don’t own the rights to the art… though I did at more blood… pixel by pixel… okay I added five red squares of blood and then said fuck it… I think I am still legally protected by fair use laws… (I’m not sure… but if I had to guess… I am not protected at all…)

So why am I talking about old logos?… well lately I have been thinking of revamping the website… adding more pages… more logos… some other shit… which got me thinking about making short films and GIFs… because that’s how my brain works… and because I don’t have enough shit to avoid at the moment… really I just want more blood… lots of blood… like the scene in the Shining… 

blood wall

My favorite part about this movie… and this scene… is when the blood splashes against the white wall… I looked for a longer GIF… but this was the best one… the chaos of it all… sends shivers done my spine… shivers of excitement… hopefully I am retreading on facts you already know… but Kubrick was somehow able to convince the ratings board at the time… that all that red was rusty water… that to me alone is insane… great film if you haven’t seen it… you should… “I’m not going to hurt cha”….

Anyway… more blood… that is where this was going… more blood… darker images… and a thousand more broken promises… things to look forward to… on Chewing On Glass… 

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

Post Script of the Unimaginative (Vulgar)

Nothing good has ever come of this
The truth in lies is full of shit
I think I have all the answers
Locked away inside my head
In reality I have nothing and I’m fine with it
Ignorance truly is bliss
So are lies you can’t resist

“I want to jerk off onto the sores of her mouth. If anything just to see if it will hurt.”

I haven’t slept in days
What if I told you that was okay
I ate last week
Think it all went away
Malnutrition and withering away
I may be dying in a slow way
What if this was okay
Gave it up all the same
Wish I could explain
What it is that I am trying to say

A common theme, what am I doing here?…

The past always seemed okay
Reflecting back I see where all the trouble comes from
Abused, abandoned, threatened
The humor becomes more of a nightmare
A sense of something so much bigger than myself

Nothing relevant when everything is so irrelevant…

A bible left on a bench
Verses stuck in my head
Bleeding for a cause
Dying for the dead
Waiting at the end of the world
Too afraid to try anything new
Human unlike you
The times disappear, the years
Coughing up blood from all the fun
Destroying everything I love
Locked away in my mind
All that matter at this time

My lips are so chapped and it hurts… biting off… peeling off the little bits of skin… lips are bleeding… enjoying the pain… renewing the resistance that lies within… Random thought… Despite the plan to make this an easy month on myself… I think this is the hardest month I’ve ever had… I hope you are all enjoying the Broken Thoughts… It’s more like a cracked out twitter… I rather like the name of this post… Happened upon it by accident… Like all my words…

Opened up a Shop on Threadless… Pretty excited about it… Only have a few designs at the moment but I am working on more…

https://chewingonglass.threadless.com/

I have basic designs as well… love to hear what you think… good idea… dumb idea… I value your opinions…

Chewing On Glass Logo

Purgatory Part 2

“You know who I want to hear from?” After a very long awkward pause the voice continues, “I would like to hear from Franklin. Would you like to share today Franklin.” “It’s Frank dipshit,” the man riddled with bullet holes stands up. “You don’t have to stand up Franklin,” Sylvia says before laughing. Frank slams his body back into the seat, “Do I have a choice?” “Of course you have a choice. Being here isn’t punishment. Being here is to help you.” Frank shifts in his seat, “Yeah okay cause it sure as hell feels like punishment. We either talk or we have to go sit out there with the rest of the freaks waiting to come back in here. Not a whole lot of options for us here. Despite her smart ass comments I’m with Sylvia on this place. This is all bullshit, but I want out of here so what do you want to hear?” “Why do you think that you are here?” the figure asks him like he just volunteered to die or that in some way this was all optional. Thanks for taking twenty plus bullets to the chest and coming here. Would you mind filling out a small survey? Would you recommend this place to a friend? I’m starting to agree with Sylvia more and more myself. “I am here because those pig fuckers shot the shit out of me.” Frank tries to grab his shirt to show the figure his bullet holes, but he can’t and he quickly gives up. “There has to be a reason they shot at you.” “Yeah cause I was trying to get a little cash for my family.” “Oh yeah that’s real rich their Frankie. That totally justifies the reason you tried to rob a bank,” the business man blurts out as he shakes his head in disbelieve. “Fuck you old man. I did what I had to do to get by.” “Well what you did was against the law that’s why they shot your ass.” “Howard please let Frank speak you can have your turn when he is done,” the figure explains. “I was simply commenting on what Frank was saying.” “The freak said shut the fuck up lard ass.” These people are insane and I try to stay calm through all of it. I want to start getting upset too, but I know that it won’t help any of this. Frank starts back up with his story, “Anyways I took a bullet or two and now I’m here paying for my sins or whatever.” “Is that what you truly believe Frank?” The figure asks him. “I said it didn’t I? So yeah that’s what I fucking believe.” Frank looks over at Sylvia, “You think the freak’s got a brain under there? Cause he is pretty stupid.” Sylvia still isn’t talking and pretends that Frank isn’t even talking. “That’s not a very nice thing to say Frank, but are you done?” “Yeah I am.” “Can I say a few things?” “Like I give a shit,” Frank crosses his arms. “You really need to stop holding in all this blame and anger towards others. Realize that you might be the cause of your own misfortunes. No one told you to rob that bank or take those people hostage Frank. You made all those decisions yourself and you need to forgive yourself before it consumes you any farther.” “I didn’t shoot anybody you fucking freak. I didn’t shoot no body and yet here the fuck I am,” Frank screams causing everyone in the room to jump a little bit. As we all watch Frank place his head in his hands I think that this all sounds rather familiar to me somehow. The figure says nothing back to Frank and Frank doesn’t lash out as he walks to the corner of the room. Another somber moment in a place that is nothing but.

Breaking the silence. “I have a question for you. What are you?” I ask the figure. The hooded figure sits motionless and I try to look under the hood. Looking for eyes, a mouth, anything that could confirm what it is. All I find is darkness. Beth places her hand on my knee, “You can’t ask it things about itself.” “Why not?” I question. “It is just the way it is sweetie,” she shrugs at me. “What do you think it is?” I ask the group. “I think it’s a freak,” Frank shouts from the corner of the room. “Yeah we know,” Sylvia shouts back as she rolls her eyes. “We think it is the grim reaper or our idea of a grim reaper,” she says to me. The hooded figure finally speaks, “Howard you had something you wanted to say earlier?” We go on as if no one had said anything at all about the figure. “Ah, yes I did. I wanted to tell the group my story.” “Oh dear God,” Sylvia blurts out before going silent once again. She stares at her gashes. She traces the outline of the cut on her left arm with her finger. “My dear Sylvia, such a pretty name, James has yet to hear my story,” Howard says before turning to face me. He locks eyes with me and I can’t help but to not look right at him for his story. I’m more interested in hearing Frank’s story and trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar to me. Respect for others forces me to put that in the back of my mind as I listen to this old man’s tale.

By the way Howard speaks to me and the rest of the group it is as if he is selling us his story. “I have always been a salesman. From the time I was a small child selling candy on the school yard playground and until the moment I found myself here. I sell that’s what I do. It is in my blood, in my DNA. Hell I even convinced my neighbor to purchases my father’s lawn mower once. Slightly used I told him. My father was so pissed. I had to give my neighbor his ten dollars back. That was a lot of money back then, but with everything there is always something to be learned. I learned right then and there that with a strong enough pitch, a kind smile, and a great deal you can sell anything. I also learned to not sell my father’s things as well,” Howard chuckles. “Howard how did you die again?” Sylvia asks and he ignores. “If this story doesn’t end with you choking on a dick. I know I’m going to be disappointed by this story.” I try to not laugh or move my face in any way. “Always be selling became my motto by the time I was out of high school. I was such a good sales man I didn’t even have to go to college. I had, had a job since I was old enough to acquire one, and with my great talent and passion I was able to move up to head of the sales team in no time. I remember the days of the sale, out there on the open road selling my amazing products from customer to customer, city to city. These were the days before personal computers, the days were a phone call was only used to catch up when a letter would not suffice. Not like today where you kids have your gadgets glued to your hands. You kids today could learn a thing or two from talking face to face the way God intended for us to talk to one another. No these were the good old days, the all or nothing days, the days when making a living meant working your ass to the bone and asking for more.” “We fucking get it old man, Jesus.” “How are you Frank? You could learn thing or two as well from my story.” “Yeah like what? Cause I’m already dead dumb ass.” “You could afford to learn a little thing called respect and about working hard. Not just sitting on your ass and taking what’s not yours.” “It wasn’t like that,” Frank walks back over to the group. “You tried to rob a bank to get money that wasn’t yours that’s how it was Frank,” Howard says to the group looking for reassurance. “Wait a second, that was you,” I say. “That was me what?” “That was you who tried to rob some bank in Atlanta?” “Yeah so what?” Frank asks. “It was all over the national news. That happened months ago or at least I think it was months ago. No one else saw the story?” they all stare at me as though I am crazy. “I meant before you all died?” “Well it was against the law that’s why it was all over the news and that’s why they shot you so many times. How many times do I have to say that before you understand?” “Shut up Howard I’m talking to the new guy. What do you mean it was all over the national news?” Frank asks me. “It was ever where or so I thought. I’m trying to remember what all happened. It happened months ago, but I remember hearing about how three or four cops were suspended and then fired for using excessive force because you didn’t even rob the bank with a real gun or something. Plus there was something about the fact that the dead hostage wasn’t your fault either.” “Who killed him then?” Howard asks. “Apparently one of the officers thought they had a shot or was trying to be a hero. Well the gun fire scared the old man and he fainted on to the floor.” “I told him to stay down, but he wouldn’t listen so I started shouting and then the noise went off.” “Right well I guess in the confusion the cops thought you shot him so they all started firing on you. Turns out the man would have been fine, but they shot him and injured three others firing on you.” Frank stands there stunned and silent. He looks as though some revelation has come over him. “Is that all that happened?” Sylvia asks me. “Was I on the news too?” “I don’t remember,” I tell her. “After that band killed themselves and everything that followed the news stopped reporting on suicides. They even stopped reporting on suicide bombers in the Middle East. Anything to try and stop people from killing themselves.” “That fucking band. That band fucking sucked anyways,” Sylvia crosses her arms and leans back into her chair. “What about my family?” Frank asks me. “What happened to my family?” “The last I heard they were suing the city along with the other families, but beyond that I can’t remember anything,” I tell him. “Frank how does that news make you feel?” The figure asks. “I feel. I feel better. For the first time since I have died. I finally feel better about everything. It might have been worth it. I knew what I did was wrong but I didn’t even have a weapon. I took a toy gun that I painted black. I figured worst case I’d get some jail time. I never thought that I would die. It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.” Frank turn to me, “Thank you James. Thank you so very much.” “You’re welcome Frank. I mean I didn’t do anything,” I say shyly. All I did was repeat the news on TV. Frank begins to weep and cover his tearless face with his hands. “Frank,” the figure says in a light voice unlike its self. Frank looks up from his hands and his face is covered with small streams of tears. “You may leave now Frank. Exit the room and continue down the hall. At the end of the hall there is one last door. It will look like a wall with a handle. Once you touch the handle you will know what to do.” Frank wipes the tears from his face as we all sit and stare. Everyone is very confused as to what is happening. Frank turns to me once again, “Thank you James.” The bullet holes, the blood, the wounds disappear as Frank stands up and walks to the door. The room is silent as he exits, but the second he is gone the whole room erupts with noise. All the noise is a collection of different questions with all the same intentions. What else do you know? Everyone is out of their chairs and standing in front of me demanding answers. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” is all I repeat. “Enough questions everyone,” the figure says in its usual tone. “James is not the reason behind Frank’s ascension to the next level. James doesn’t hold the secret clues or answers to why you have died or are still here. Each and every one of you hold those keys. That is enough for today. Next time we will start with Howard again,” the figure gestures to the open door. “What? Why? Let’s just power through this. I mean we made real progress today.” “Can’t we stay for a little bit longer?” “Yeah we want to stay.” “I’m sorry but we are done for today.” “This is bullshit.” “Give it a rest will you Sylvia,” Beth says as she stands up. No one waits for the figure to get to the door this time. Again I am the last to leave the room. “I’m sorry if I offended you earlier by ask you what you are,” I tell the figure. “It is alright James. You have questions that want answers. Demand them even, but maybe it is you who need to wonder what you are?” Confused I exit the room. The door slamming behind me.

Sylvia is waiting for me in the hallway. “That was some trippy shit wasn’t it?” She asks me. “Yeah I guess. This whole place is trippy if you ask me. How long have you been here?” “No idea, it’s hard to tell time in a place with no windows or concept of it. When did that band die?” “Sometime last year,” I say to her. “So I have been here almost a year.” “And this is the first time you’ve seen some one pass over?” I ask. “Yeah, it was. But I mean I’ve heard of other people passing over or going away from other groups. So personally this was my first. I guess this place isn’t a bunch of bull shit after all.” “What do you think happens after we pass over?” “Fuck if I know. I didn’t even think that this was going to happen.” “Yeah me either,” I say staring at the floor. “Cheer up will you. You are about to be pretty fucking popular here after what just happened. Word gets around,” she smiles at me. “How? No one even talks around here.” “Are you kidding me? Some people don’t ever shut the fuck up.” “Yeah okay,” I huff as we make it back to the waiting area. “Where do you normally sit?” Sylvia asks me. I point to the far right corner. “Yeah we all got to start somewhere. That’s the newbies corner so course they are going to not talk. Those people are scared. Not far from that we have Freaksville. That’s where the messed up one go after they have been here awhile. If you aren’t messed up than you don’t belong there so don’t bother going. Then you have general pockets of people that haven’t been here that long. See over here and over there,” she points. “Why are you telling me all of this?” I ask. “Why the hell not? Lastly that side of the room is mostly filled with the people that have been here the longest. They are not the nicest of people. Real assholes if you ask me,” she walks me over to where she usually sits. “If this is Purgatory than where are the children?” I ask. “No idea. Take a seat.” I take a seat next to her as I look around the room. Already there are a lot of eyes looking in our directions. Sylvia gives off a little laugh and a fake smile, “See just like I told you.” “You weren’t kidding.” “Nope, you are going to be very popular. Too bad you don’t have anything to show for it. Might here some good stories though.” “Who’s that guy sitting over there with all the tattoos?” I ask her. “The one who’s staring you down like you’re a piece of meat at an all you can eat dinner?” “Umm, yeah that guy.” “That’s Layne Ambrose. Stay away from him if you can. That man’s got some real serious issues. He’s already been kicked out of several groups. I heard he even tried to bite someone in the one of the groups.” “We can do that?” “Bite some one? No we can’t do that James were not vampires. Though that would make this strangely worth it all. The most we can do is touch, but it’s pointless because we can’t feel it. We can’t do much of anything in this hell hole.” “Tell me about it. What about those two girls over there?” I ask. “What about them?” “What’s their story?” “How am I supposed to know?” She punches me in the arm, “You got a crush?” My arm stings a little, “No.” “You didn’t have a lot of friends when you were alive did you?” “No, not really,” I say awkwardly. “Yeah, that’s because you ask too many damn questions.”

Drinking Bleach is my first collection of short stories from my earlier days… It is a mixed genre book filled with short stories, poems, micro stories, and more… From the early days of Chewing On Glass to the first story I ever wrote… This book covers a lot of ground… As always available on Kindle… Don’t have a Kindle?… That’s okay… Enjoy thousands of books right from your desktop, smart phone, or tablet with the Kindle app… Now available in paper back…

Drinking Bleach Preview (Vulgar)

Something Sinister

This story started a long time ago before now and before your greedy fucking eyes ever got a hold of it. Like the great tumbling ball of shit that is my life it is all the same ball of shit. People will lie, change the truth, anything to making a fucking dollar so, here is the truth so you too can change it later to fit into your own tale of how fucked up I really am. Are you listening to what I am saying? Are you paying attention? Good, I just want to say one thing to you before we start. I am legend and you’re just jealous. Fuck off. Oh and I didn’t bother thinking any of this over so deal with it. God you are such an asshole.

It all start, this all started when I fell down the stairs. I think it was maybe five years ago, but I can’t really be held accountable for minute details. We have a lot to cover so a detailed timeline is really just a waste of time so stick with me and put your fucking hand down. Time isn’t everything people. Back to my God damn story, I fell down the stairs and of course it wasn’t a simple fall down the fucking stairs. I couldn’t just break my arm or a fucking leg, no I had to break both of my useless good for nothing shitty appendages, an arm, and worse of all my fat ass fell so quickly and with all the laws of gravity not on my fucking side I had to crash through the door at the bottom of the stairs. The same damn door my wife told me to change out years ago. The same fucking door she continues to bitch about despite the fact that it’s long since been replaced. Well that shitty door had to break my fall and shatter into a million pieces, all except one piece mind you. That one was nice enough to stay fucking put. That one piece stayed real fucking strong as it went through my back bringing my wild ride to a quick stop. Ever have to spit blood out of your mouth to stop from drowning in it? Well that’s too damn bad. Tastes like shit, actually it tastes like I had a wild idea to drag my tongue across a rusty pipe just for the fuck of it. The damage was done from that point on I was fucked, but of course I had to push my luck. Hold on this is a great fucking song. “You’re so scared and so alone.” I had to keep going on and keep on living because God knows that’s what I wanted at that fucking second with the EMT’s standing over debating what would be the best way to move me. My spine was damaged this was true. IT is also true that if my spine wasn’t damaged I might have died from the pure shock of having both of my legs broken in multiple places. Couldn’t feel the fuckers. I could barely feel anything. My spine was damaged but for some God damn reason my spine wasn’t severed. For some God damn forsaken reason there was still hope for me yet. There was a special surgery the doctors said that I might be able to have that could reverse the damage and give me one more chance to land the dismount. Too bad it cost an arm and a leg, and I was fresh out of legs. This magical surgery was all thanks to those demigods up on the hill. You know those ones that want to advance stem cell research so they can help turn some unwanted child into a new limb or body part for some sad sack of shit solider no one gave a fuck about in the first place. Fuck did I miss that up? Fuck it, fix it later. What I am saying is that congress recently passed a bill or a law or whatever that allowed the use of stem cells for those who could afford it. All I needed was half a million dollar or find someone to pay for it. So I did what anyone in my financial standing would do. I went to the bank and pulled five hundred thousand dollars out of my personal just encase life fucked you in the ass account. All in ones of course and made it rain all over his office like he was Candy from Sweet Charles Strip Club and BBQ lucky day. So began my next chapter in life strapped into a wheel chair shitting on myself. The fun chapter really. Half price dances is nothing to shake a stick at. Funny how the health bill fell flat on its fucking face, but stem cell use got the ok. Small victory for ignorance and one giant leap for the future. Yeah I’m that bitter.

Thanks to the wheel chair I know found my fat ass sitting in I lost my job. It is a little hard to lift fifty pound boxes of produce from the safety and comfort of a chair with wheels. I needed to find a new career path, a new way so to speak not that my last one was really anything worth losing to begin with, but there comes a time in a man’s life, maybe a woman’s too though I was beginning to understand what life meant without a penis, that he has to make a decision. Sometimes though that decision isn’t made by one’s own hand. It was at this time that I had to look deep within myself to figure out what it was that I wanted to do with my new found sense of existence. I knew I needed money so I could shut my wife up about the fucking surgery. I knew I didn’t want to go to work at any place with human beings. I knew a lot of things I didn’t want to do basically, but what I found in my hours of cheap whiskey and a crotch full of Candy was the inspiration to write. Something I hadn’t done since I dropped out of college all those years ago. It wasn’t like I was hiding some deep unearned skill deep within myself, but who has the fucking time when they are knee deep in the bullshit called life? Whatever, thanks to my horrible accident I was able to find my voice once again. All good artist must suffer and I had plenty of it thanks to my impending position. So that is what I did day in and day out I wrote. Drank a little bit too much and then wrote some more. Paid Candy to play with my flaccid dick and I wrote some more. Every second of every day I used putting pen to paper, paper into computer, and back and forth until I had something, until I had a story worth writing about. My story, well a version of my story I’m sure you have all read my book by now If I Could Only Get It Up. No? Then why the fuck are you here right now. Go buy a fucking copy, pop your pants off, and come back to me when you have finished. Why the fuck are you even reading this? Because you like reading stories about human suffering? You’re a fucking selfish prick aren’t you? Good than you and I have something in common at least on a surface co-hatred and contempt for anyone that isn’t us. Though I have to say it is a lot like preaching to the stupid. Still with me? Fan-fucking-tastic let’s move on. It took two years of fighting, clawing and scratching, sucking and fucking to get that piece of shit book printed and pressed and in the hands of you dick lickers, and it would take another two before I could even make enough money to put a down payment on the surgery. Yeah they have those. I was as surprised as you to say the least, but it makes sense if you can walk again you can make money. Oh yeah the health industry will suck the life right out of you just like any other. The way it is when everything is for profit. Honestly though if you are figuring that out right now as I tell you please don’t forget to visit my website where you can buy some more bullshit to complete your empty life.

Even after all the record breaking sales of my book by a first time writer. America really loves a tragedy. Hey kids want to get famous saw your legs off and see what happens. Okay don’t do that find your own God damn way to milk the tit that is the American conscious. Run for president or something the point is that I still didn’t have enough money to pay for my operation out right, but I did have enough credit with the publishing company to barter my soul for the money I still needed. They were just thrilled to hand over several hundred thousand dollars to me so I could fucking walk again because apparently it is really expensive to send a cripple on a book tour. Heartless fucking ass clowns that they are. Oh and plus America likes a redemption story so, they had me sign a paper that said they could release my next three books. Lucky me. I know what you are thinking holy shit he gets to write three more books. He is so blessed, yeah well fuck you because now I had to produce three more fucking books without a single fucking idea. Do you know what kind of pressure that has on a fragile mind? Yeah you don’t, what it is like is telling the bank you can pay them back the whole loan in than five years without a fucking job. Good luck, hope everything works out for you because it’s not. So here I am recovering from my operation and trying to come up with something to get those fucking heathens off my back. They are blood thirsty, it may not seem that way, but they really are some blood thirsty no talent fucking cunts. They’re like vampires in the night. Constantly calling, “How’s the book going? How’s this going? Are you feeling better?” Assholes, they can’t even come up with their own God damn idea so, they suck the ideas out of writers as quickly as they can, and when they are done with us we are just cast aside like a dry husk of what was once a human. Vampires of ideas are what this whole industry is like. It torments me every second of every day and with all this stress and rehab my head is like a tornado of shit smashing from one side of my skull to the other. My head feels like a pinball machine that has been well used. A bit dated of a reference but needless to say the stress is getting to me at this point. But I’m not even sure if it is the stress of everything lately or the God damn operation. I’m on a strict regimen of headache medicine, pain killers, and a great amount of alcohol but I still can’t get rid of this pain in my head. The only thing that I have found that actually gets rid of the pain in my head is not really accepted by society as a whole. Maybe a few societies out there but not many. I’m getting a head of myself hold on let me get back on track.

Okay so I told you ass stains about my problem with the books I have to write for the vampires that’s the climax. So all we really need is some falling action to really get your panties soaking wet. I bet you wear lacy ones that you think are so sexy as they stretch around your curves, but you never show anyone because you are a highly regarded person in your community and if you’re a lady I’m confused as to why you’d bother wearing nay at all. If my mind wasn’t a blender on puree I’d probably have this story written out already and you could move on to more pressing matters of life. Months went by as I tried to decide what to write next. I had already used up my asshole card so I couldn’t write another book about telling the world to fuck off or a book literally about assholes. I had no ideas and the longer that I had no ideas the worse the pain in my head got. It got so bad I had to start taking more drugs and mix in other ones to try and numb the pain for a little. This time period should have been the best time of my life and it was quickly growing worse and worse. I could walk again, I had an extremely successful first novel, and yet I was too busy trying to drown out my pain. I started to take walks around this time mostly to get away from the bitching at home and because for the first time in a long time I could. It was during one of these walks that something extraordinary happened. I got the pain to finally go away. Not permanently but long enough so I could think. It wasn’t runners high or something stupid like that it was survivors high. Is that even thing? I don’t know, but while I was walking one night down in the shitty part of town some asshole came up to me waving a gun in my face. Telling me to give him all my money or he would waste me right there like I was a piece of trash someone didn’t want anymore. I don’t know if it was the third of bourbon I had in me or the fact that I was only carrying enough cash to get me more, but something rose up in me. A sense of calm I had never experienced before. I calmly looked the young man in the eyes and I told him to stop waving that gun in my face before I take it way and shove it up his ass. He wasn’t too thrilled by that scenario and as he placed the cold barrel right up against my forehead and demanded his demands all over again I thought maybe I wouldn’t either. I waited for the loud bang to echo through my skull as I somehow survived the odds for the second fucking time.

I’m just fucking with you. Why the fuck would I be walking around the shitty part of town like some commoner? Seriously though I’ve butchered like six women in the last year. It was actually easier than you might think and it really did make the headaches go away, but they only go away for a little while. I have found that the only way to make my headaches go away long enough is to skin a woman alive and listen to her scream. Slowly of course because there is something about hearing their screams of pain as I torment them piece by piece that just melts my own pain away like butter on a hot knife. Oh stop your, “That’s so wrong fucking judgements,” you’re passing through your head fucked up head right now. Who the fuck are you to even judge me in the first place? You bought the fucking book about how I committed each crime in full detail. I mean this is only the fucking forward, the preface of a book called How I Committed Each Crime and You Paid Me to Do It. I know, I know it is a really long fucking title, but the vampires didn’t really get my original title, Knife in your Vagina. I thought it was catchy, but nope you the readers just get a slap in the face. They also didn’t get the concept of each page being made from human skin or at the very least the cover. Gave them a prototype and everything. You didn’t think that I would let anything go to waste did you? Oh well go ahead and get on with it. Go ahead and read the rest of the God damn book. Long story short the critics will just laugh it off as a fictional tale of my deeply deprived mind raised on junk food and twisted tales of horror and rape, but know this dear reader I am really something sinister.

 

Looking for something different?… Drinking Bleach is my first collection of short stories from my earlier days…. It is a mixed genre book filled with short stories, poems, micro stories, and more…. From the early days of Chewing On Glass to the first story I ever wrote… This book covers a lot of ground… As always available on Kindle. Don’t have a Kindle? That’s okay. Enjoy thousands of books right from your desktop, smart phone, or tablet with the Kindle app… Now Available in Paper back…

Broken Thoughts

This could  carry me into next week
The thought that maybe any of this matters
Bleeding to know that there is still life
A loneliness has bred an isolation
Chasing down an unrealistic dream
A quest to become God to a desolate planet
There is no end to an unapologetic beginning
Kill the man, the idea lives on stronger than before
Fucking useless apocalyptic dream
Too busy to hold on to every thought
Slipping away into a dark messiah complex

Who knew the answers were meaningless
An asshole with a small dick complex
It swings without hitting nothing
The words pile up onto the piles of shit
Pick the one that suits the moment at hand
Fuck, I hate every minute yet can’t turn away
A burned down cigarette pressed against your teeth
Forgot how to live, still meaningless to me
A sentiment that time couldn’t erase
Putting thoughts and feeling to the grinder
Bleeding the poison out through the skin
Over dramatic for no fucking reason at all
Spoke to you once about pain
An idea left on the back burner for too long
Chewing on glass to feel anything thing
Sedation was as much fun as it could have ever been
A raping of the mind that needs to be said
Passing it off as original and unique
Same shit that’s always begin said

A constant shift of the same idea nailed down
Who is on the cross now?
Switched him out when no one was looking
Didn’t matter as long as someone was in pain
Praying to a God that doesn’t understand
Is like asking your dog for the rent
A concept they will never understand
Not everything means the same thing to someone else
Misguided words left on the graves of the damned
Searching for something more when you are already dead
The point is, I’m just like you
The reasons had nothing to do with us
Broken before we even got here

Violent imagery plays in my head
A scene of dying and everyone ends up dead
Nightmares become reality an escape in the end
Bugs dancing to music that does not exist
Only to end up swimming in the drink resting in my hand
To pick them out would be a waste of time
Bodies made of carbon same as mine
Burnt the fuck out

 

A Lie Preview

Welcome, Take a Seat. The Truth Can Be Hard to Swallow.

I’m sitting in a room bathed in black light. You know that not quite purple but not at all black color that washes over everything. Random objects are glowing with a strange hue all around me. This seems important but really it isn’t. The intense colors are more for effect than anything else. If I was tripping like every other asshole in the room I would be having a good time, but I’m not. I am sitting on the end of a glowing couch with two women who are probably more like girls than women, but I don’t really know because I haven’t really taken the time to notice. I haven’t taken my eyes off the glass coffee table in front of me to really notice anything. I don’t really notice the topless girl making out with some random guy as he feels her up in the corner or the passed out and probably dead man in front of the table. All of these facts I am very unsure of, again these are all things that I think are happening around me. The past year all comes down to what is on the table. The last trip I will ever take. My freedom lies at the end of each line. My life will forever change with each line because after they are done, I am done. I will disappear, like a ghost, never to be heard or seen again in this town. The last year has been a downward spiral of lies and deceit. It has left my mind like an open sore that has been open to infection by everything around me. My freedom and my mind is all that I want back. I just need this last pick me up, this last time to remind me just how much I truly hate this. I have the rolled up dollar in my hand and I am ready whenever I am ready. I have a sick feeling in my stomach that this will somehow end badly, but I need to do this. I need to end this forever and walk away. I lean towards the coffee table and line my makeshift straw up to the drugs. I snort each line as rapidly as I can there’s no use drawing this out any longer than I have to. The drugs take only seconds to enter my system, they feel like home but the feeling doesn’t last. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. My body falls forward and no one reaches out for me. A room full of people and no one reaches for me. My face smashes against the table, I can feel the cartilage and little bones of my nose give way. I can feel the warm blood leave my face and spread across the table. But this is not where it all started. It all started a long time before this.

 

 

Days, Weeks, Months, a Year Before

It is hard to say when this truly began. Some could say it started when I moved here from across the country. Maybe when I started attending this school, but really it started when she left. When she decided she didn’t like it here anymore and she was going back with or without me.  She ultimately chose without me despite all my begging. She said she was going back to school and she couldn’t take it here with me. She promised she still loved me and that we would be together as soon as school was done. She said all of this while packing up everything she owned or claimed was hers from the three years prior as if this was in some way normal. She said a lot of things that over time proved she was nothing more than a liar. Of course at the time, on the surface everything was too out of focus to really notice she was lying. This is where I think it started. This is where the hurt feelings began. This is where the never ending spiral seemed to take off. Like a downward rollercoaster with no brakes I quickly found myself with cracks in my heart that only grew wider as each day went. I have never been a strong person, but I have become even weaker without her. My life has been a test of strengths that I never could understand, this situation is no different. Now I am stuck here in a hell that I have created for myself with everyone around me playing the roles I have created for them. “Life is never easy but it is in pain that we find out just who we truly are,” Abigail Clayton wrote that in her suicide note to her parents. Great words to live by if you ask me.

 

Hope you enjoyed the first two pages of A Lie… Now available on Kindle… Don’t have a Kindle?… That’s okay… You can enjoy thousands of books right from your smart phone, desktop, or tablet with the Kindle app. Best of all the app is free…. Now Available in print as well…

 

Broken Thoughts

Always standing and watching
Participation is only an option
Waiting through the darkness
Copying, pasting thoughts and ideas
My thoughts have never been
Mine and Mine alone

Generations of bending and shaping
A never ending conclusion of thought

Walking this as slow as I can
The rush to die wasted on the youth
Thoughts of immortality disappear with every year
To be trapped in this old casket
Would be hell
The sands of time will only weigh me down from here
Giving in was never an option
It was always the plan

Away From Me
Your words don’t inspire me
They dig, carve out a place within my soul
A den of deceit, lies, beauty to unfold
They consume, swallow me whole
Every instance of instinct
Every truth of existence
Proves my point as it grows
The thoughts burn up inside me
I’m burning down slowly
Ashes given back to the earth
Lonely, depressed maybe this is what I deserve
A life wasted on dreams, on the absurd
The more I want it the further it seems
What is it that I want so badly in these dreams?
The fire must rage, fuel to the flame
Even if it is slowly killing me all the same
What do I have left
Ashes, condemned to my last breath

So sick of being me
Lost all religion
Lost everything when you cried
Dragging myself through this hell
No longer recognize what I’ve become
It’s a long road traveled or not
Feel the pain of a thousand worlds
Carry with me every word ever said
Brain won’t shut up
Movies playing in my head
Every thing that could have been
Memories of you faded in the background
How I wish I could
Change any of this
Once spoken, said forever
Only one way to end it all
Only one word that means anything

Separate skin from bone
Shaving off the fat left behind
Drinking the blood of Christ to let go
Was there the moment he died so long ago
Endless in time, the moments tick by
How I wish I could only go home