Even More Broken Thoughts Over Time

I really like playing the asshole, the liar, the thief it’s so much easier than it is to be me.  I just can’t take the loneliness. I’m lonelier now than I was before I gave it all up. The voices in my head have taken over and there is no telling what they have or haven’t said at this point. The long conversations I once had have given into a world that I have created. My life has been a long spiral down to this point. I’m at the bottom and I really don’t feel any worse than when I was at the top. Gone are the days where anything makes sense, the days of innocence, and the days plagued by truth. Here and now is hell. No longer am I waiting to grow up. Now I’m just waiting to die. I’ve never felt any more at home than I do now.

 

The best known secrets are the ones everyone already knows, but are too afraid to admit. We all give up on our dreams or on ourselves at some point. Natural progression of life I assume. Best example crotch fat. Fucking kill me at that point. Why would we even store fat there? How the fuck is that even an option? Did the ass run out of room and the belly declare it is too full? I’d cut it off with a rusty knife. What exercise is there to even fight this? I guess at that point you are just fucked.

 

A customer just told me that the artificial sugars in gum are basically poison. So she buys a thirty pack and heads on home.

 

I got the best house on the block, the fear of admiration by my peers, and the whole world waiting at my feet. What more could I possibly want from this world? I’m no longer hungry and that scares me. Frightens me to the core of my very existence and yet I will do nothing about it. I can’t anymore. The times have come and gone. A new era of my life has begun. One where I am no longer poor. One where I have everything I could ever want. All I have to do is maintain and I’ll be fine. Throwing more cash in the fire I leave for France tomorrow. I don’t even like going there anymore. I’m going to go. My life is so sad it depresses me.

 

My mother got remarried. I don’t like to talk about it much, but it makes me feel like an outsider in a distant land. Family events have become horrible because of this. I feel out-of-place and disconnected from everyone else. So much so that I spend most of the evening hiding as if I’m not even there. My mother’s new family are all nice people, but they are strangers none the less. I think it is so hard for me to connect with them because there are so many. For most of my life it has been me and my mom. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and any other family gathering event. It was always just the two of us and now there is only a room full of people I don’t know. I’m not at a family event now but I am supposed to stop by after work. I won’t be going tonight though I lie and say I will. It is easier this way. Maybe too easy for me. I’m sure my mother will be heartbroken and she will wait patiently for me to walk through the door at any moment. This is probably an over dramatic realization. Too many movies have rotted my brain. I’m sure a room full of people will not miss one more. As I said the easy way out. Push everything a side and move on. The times have changed from what they used to be and I need to get used to the way things are.

Becoming Nothing More

We’ve all got our reasons to be here tonight. Every night. For some of us it is our crippling lack of wealth. For others it has evolved into the only way we know how to live. A violent transformation of shit. A hurricane with no eye. We spin and spin watching the world go by in a blur. We learn things too late or not at all. We are at war? We are on the verge of going bankrupt? We are to be fired? News of the world is nothing and means nothing. There is always a job to do. Most everything beyond that comes as a surprise though we could never really understand the word at this point.

Numb, depressed, destructive these are words we can understand. These are words we live and believe in at this moment and time. My fear however is that they will be replaced with home, suicidal, destroyed. Blending into the madness is hard at first. At first everything is difficult. Time has a way of breaking you in. Grinding you down into the monsters we have become. Humanity, justice, sleep are all lost on us. The very idea of those words disappear in the darkness of our minds. I’ve given up hope that they will return anytime soon. From what little I can recall of the words and their ideas, the thoughts they convey, only make you weak.

Weakness will kill you in this prison of freedom. We remind ourselves that there is always something worse, but is there? The day walkers ask us if we are able to balance life at work and at home. We lie something we all have become masters at. We lie and say we can. We hope this lie will free us, but it never does. How can we maintain lives with little to no sleep? Am I alive? Yes. Do I live a life? Can you repeat the question? Hobbies become sleep. Self-worth becomes units per hour. Desperation becomes an everyday occurrence. They push us harder into the madness. More cases, new product, revolving door of people, shorter deadlines, and on and on. “Never good enough. Should have been done already. Maybe if you were faster. Don’t worry we are getting some more new people in here.” The quotes and shit they say goes on and on. Hate the day walkers. Fear the day walkers. Wish you too could become a day walker.

Though after what we have been through how could we ever quit, walk away, do something else, and then what would have all this been for? Start at the bottom again. Start over with nothing. Start over damaged. The company is a good company to work for I’m told. They pay you well. How do you like it? What can I say? So I say nothing and harbor my pain and sorrow. Could always be worse. Worse than feeling not good enough each and every night. Worse than a nightly reassurance that my worthlessness has driven me beyond a point. A point I will never return from. Becoming nothing more than destroyed, suicidal, and at home.

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Not the Answer

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

Pizza and Beer

I am nothing anymore
My mind but a blender
I want to kill the world
But my reasons get returned to sender
I have a list of everything I need to do
I have a task at hand which I hand off to you
One step at a time
Seems more like a reason to die
I thought it would give me a cause
I thought it would make me noble after all
How wrong I was
How stupid I could be
If I put a gun in my mouth
The solution would seem so clear to me
My teeth are rotten
My body is broken
Everything is a mystery until you have no need for it
I feel like I feel, though I’m not sure

Are you paying attention? Does this all seem as though no one else knows? I’d give you a clue, but even they are lost on me. Driven to madness I had no choice. I hope you understand that my soul is now available on Kindle….Enjoy…

People With No Name

“Is there anything I can help you find?” The customer looks over from the entry way of the store at the short stubby clerk standing behind the counter. The customer only came in for one item and has no idea where in this store it could possibly be.
“Yes you can I’m looking for. Oh it’s right there. Right in front of me the whole time.” The customer smiles as she reaches for the simple item on the shelf in front of her.
“Glad we could be of some help,” the clerk smiles. The customer gives off a short laugh as she carries the item to the counter.

“Me too. Does that happen a lot?”
“What do you mean?” The clerk asks the customer.
“Someone asks you where something is and they find it right in front of them?”
“Yes it happens a lot. They say it’s my gift.”
“That’s funny. Who says that?” the customer asks.
“The people with no name.”
“Who?,” the customer asks puzzled.
“The people with no name,” the clerk says calmly.
“Is that other customers?”

“No, I’m sorry I’ve said too much. I didn’t realize you didn’t know, never mind.”
“Know what?” the customer asks taken back.
“I’ve said too much. Are you ready to check out?”
“Where are these people you speak of?”
“If you must know they’re all around us. Can’t you at least feel them?”

The customer shakes her head and starts to become even more confused.
“They control everything and everything controls them. How do you not know about the people with no name?”
“Is there a manager or someone I can talk to?” the customer asks politely.
“Of course there is but why would you need to speak to them?”
“Because I do. In private if that’s okay?”
“Of course, of course just a moment please.” The clerk turns his head and begins to whisper as if someone is there, but there is no one the customer can see.

“The manager will be here in a moment.”
“But you didn’t even page or call anyone.”
“Yes I did,” the clerk says sternly.
“No you didn’t. Can you please page the manager for me?”
“Ma’am I already did and she will be here in just a moment.”
“What the hell is going on here?”

“How may I help you today?” A female voice asks.
The customer turns around to face the woman. “Are you the manager?”
“Yes I am, how may I help you?” She asks again.
“I need to talk to you in private,” the customer says as if to test the manager’s sanity.
“We have a non-believer,” the clerk informs the manager.
“Just because I don’t hear voices that make me a non-believer in something?,” the customer asks irate.
“You don’t hear them?” The manager asks politely.
“Hear what?” The customer demands.
“The people who have no name,” the manager says.
“There are no people here. Have you two lost your minds?”
“Ma’am there is no reason to be rude,” the clerk says.
The manager turns her head and begins to whisper and again no one is there.

“They say you are just not ready.”
“Not ready for what? Are you saying I’m not ready to hear voices in my head?”
“We don’t hear voices in our head ma’am. The voices are all around us. I tried to explain that the people are all around us, but I don’t think she understands.”
“How can she understand anything we are talking about if she does not believe?” The manager asks as if the customer isn’t even there.
“This is all just madness. I am calling someone I hope you know that and I’m never shopping here again.”

The customer throws her item up on the counter and storms out of the store. The manager calmly walks over to the counter and picks up the item, “Some people just aren’t ready yet.”
“I know it saddens me, but maybe one day.”
A hand reaches out from behind the clerk and rests on his shoulder.
“One day they will all believe,” the owner of the hand reveals.

About Time I Suppose

I always feel the need to do something more tangible. Something a little more personal. The thought washes over me like a wave. A tide that I’m slowly drowning in until well here we go. Recently I finally purchased my own little piece of where ever the hell I am now. You are all welcome to never come over so, knowing where that is, is irrelevant to the situation. Point is that I finally got some land. Not much one to two acres out way from most civilization. Enough to pretend that nothing else exists, but still close enough to get decent internet.

I even got all the things needed to take care of the land. Riding lawnmower, a weed eater, and whatever else. I got everything I tell everyone who might ask though no one ever does. The problem is though I don’t like to be outside. I like the idea of being outside, but never see the point of being out there. It’s like how I like the idea of walking around naked in my house, but I don’t because it’s not practical. What if someone comes over? We’ve spent hundreds of years perfecting inside. Why the fuck would I want to go outside? Needless to say the yard has become over grown and there is a fine layer of dust over all the things I needed to make sure that this didn’t happen.

Letting the yard go was a mistake. Not because there might be snakes or rodents or even monster out there. Who the fuck knows I don’t go outside. It was a mistake because apparently despite my best efforts I do have neighbors and they have a son. Nothing unusual, nothing too strange about having a child. I have one or whatever. The problem is that they saw my laziness as an opportunity for their son to take on a challenge. Never a great start because who the fuck what’s to do something their parents want them to do? I’d be a doctor by now if I had listen to my parents, but things work out how they work out. Or as my mother likes to remind me, “There’s still time.”  I’m half dead. There is barely time to do what I am already doing.

So I hired the kid because his parents were brave enough to knock on my door and speak to me for more than thirty seconds. Yes, that’s all it takes. Anything to get them away from my house. I would have given them the keys to the house if that would have been an option, but my family needs a place to stay. They are weak and too afraid of what is in the tall grass. “Sad,” a quote we can all use now. So the kid comes over once a week to cut my grass and watch me walk around naked in my house. It was awkward at first, but there might be things out there lurking in the grass.

A Lie Preview

Days Keep on Going

Every day is exactly the same with only one slight variance. Wake up, take drugs, and go to either work or school. On really good days I just sit here and never move. This is what my life has become since she left me. My own personal prison. I can’t really say that I hate it all that much. We are all after some sort of prison when you stop to think about it. At least mine is my own.

Lately I haven’t had to go to college because of winter break, and to be honest I wasn’t really going that much before anyways so it’s all the same to me. School starts in a few weeks, I am almost certain, and I’m really not looking forward to it at all. I never wanted to go there in the first place, but my Mom told me if I wanted to continue to live in my house that I had to go to school. Really kind of a shitty situation but then again I live rent free. This frees up my money for the things that keep me going.

I know a man in town and he basically keeps me hooked to stay alive. It’s a rather sad existence, but hey I am still alive. I’m currently at work on one of my two fifteen minute breaks. I work in a drug store and some might say that’s not the best place for someone on drugs to work, but they were hiring and I need a job. When I started though I was a lot more stable. Working here isn’t really that bad, it’s just a bit mind numbing. It’s surprising the amount of stupid people in the world, but then again it’s probably not. I have a lot of time to reflect on such trivial thoughts such as intelligence. I work up front which is to say that I man the cash register. The company likes to pretend that I am nothing more than a cashier by giving me the title check out specialist. I don’t specialize in anything other than getting you the fuck out.

I could care less about your problems even though I smile and nod the whole time. All I am really thinking about is how much longer will your bullshit really affect me. I hate it when people talk to me about what they are buying as if I care at all. I really don’t care that you are buying laxatives, condoms, and a Mother’s Day card. All of this is trivial and pointless to me and my life.

It only gets better from here. Not a fan? Literally gets better from here because. Almost had me. I love to talk about my book. Questions? Ask them. Seriously comment away or get at me on twitter. It is sad and lonely in this cage. The chicken stopped talking once I ate him, and let’s be honest he didn’t have much to say before that either….

Hold Me Back

His body is still right before it slams into the hood of the minivan. The impact throws his body like a rag doll out of my view, and further into the busy street. I rush to be near him, but I have a feeling he is closer to me now than ever before. His body lays in a tangled mess of blood, lacerations, and broken bones. The man I once loved is no longer there and all that exist is his empty shell of a body.

A crowd starts to form around his body as I fall to my knees. I cry like I have never cried before. I cry as if my tears will bring him back to life and end this pain running through my body. I try to hold him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m so lost and confused, and there is so much blood. Someone calls 911, but it is too late for them to do anything. The blood takes the form of a trail leading to the nearest sewage drain. I don’t know what that means. Does any of this mean anything at all? I grab his body with all my love, “What does any of this mean?”

The paramedics arrive and ask me to let go of him, but I can’t bring myself to let go of his body. “Sir you need to let go of him. Sir he needs to go to the hospital,” one of them repeats over and over again. They force me to let go of him and I am covered in his blood. The cops hold me back as the paramedics load his body onto the ambulance, and drive him away. Leaving me behind in a world that doesn’t understand. A world that doesn’t care what we have been through.