The Death Bringer

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

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

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

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

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

Wrap It Up

So many thoughts come to me but not a fucking one is worth mentioning at this point. Some days feel like a total waste of life and time before they even begin. Yet I still have the whole day to reflect on how shitty the day is. I’m sure I’ll come up with some epic idea by the end of day. Throw enough shit against the wall and you will have your masterpiece.

Only my mind seems to only want to cooperate right as I fall asleep because fuck you brain for always letting me down. Strike while the iron is hot. Too bad it is only at the worst times. Right before work, before I sleep, or any time I have to do some other shit. Dead ass tired again with no chance of sleep for three more days. How I can’t wait for Mondays. In this crisis for sleep everything feels as though it is coming down on me. Shit raining down on me, fighting me, against me while I’m curled up in a ball on the floor.

Who the fuck thought twitter was a good idea? An asshole with too many friend to care beyond 140 characters. I want to hear from you but keep it short and lose big words jerk off as no one has time to look that shit up. Next generation is so fucked and they are very welcome. Too bad we had to be the ones to bring it all down. Tear down society to leave our mark. At this rate the next generation will be running out of shit to burn down. The smile I have is so wide that it hurts. Fuck’em all.

Scrapping Together A Scrap Book Of Broken Thoughts

The surface is rippled by the stones
we throw at each other
They watch us from their glass homes
watching every movement with cheer
we are nothing more than jesters, a joke
the keys to the kingdom lie far from our hands
as they dangle just over head
we want a revolution, we want change
well good luck, you make a difference
if you just give up.

The people held at different standards
the masses are laughing as we destroy each other
Money moves the world into a tail spin of lost control
They will ride our backs until they can walk again
until they can stand up again and tell us
how proud we should be to be from America

Blood drains from the soul
body goes numb and the brain goes cold
separation between church and state
separation between body and soul
the world is ending and you were all told

At Least I’m dying
So I don’t have to listen
to you

I want to cut my throat
Bathe in my blood
Just to feel how it would be
To be me for once

Drag me through dirt
I drag my cross to my grave
Everywhere I go people throw stones
I am what I can be

I can feel myself as I bleed
I bleed for you and I bleed for me
The weeping angles can’t stop repeating
“God why are you doing this to me?”
It all started, the bleeding that is
When I asked the simple question
“Do you still really believe?”
Lies are truths and truths are lies
What if I told you that nothing was real
That real is only a state of mind

Honesty is the most sincere form of flattery
Honesty is why you’re an asshole

The Devil is an asshole but so are you
The witches were burned because they
Were feared, holy called unholy mistakes
That we teach, no one can tell you how
To live, no one can tell you what to do
But somehow they do

God choose this so you can suffer
A test unlike any other

Lies, lies we tell ourselves to get by
Everyone is standing in their windows
Hoping to get noticed, but every one is too busy
Ignoring the people in their shitty lives
A generation raised on hiding, despising
Falsified documents made to not look like knives
Everyone’s opinion locked away in a data base
What did you do today?
Nothing, the same as always
Who wants to hear the truth, the infliction
What do you mean, the words get twisted
Infections, choose properly or be torn down
Shit upon, drugged around and forgotten
This is the world in which we live our lives
Video graphed disturbances bombarding our every move
Don’t worry someone is always watching
Smile and go about your life

A little bit of everything in this one… Yes… My brain doesn’t stop… Even when I ask it too.. Anxiety much?…. 

A Lie Preview

Part 2. Missed Part 1? It can be found somewhere within the bowels of this website.

The pharmacy is in the back and is the only real reason we exist. There are sixteen aisles in the store, only two of them matter. Aisles thirteen and fourteen, this is where we keep the over the counter medication. They are also the two numbers I have grown to hate because if the customers aren’t telling me their life story then they are asking me where something is. I say these two numbers so much that when thrown a curve ball of a question that has nothing to do with what is on those aisles I still say thirteen or fourteen and have to quickly change my answer. It is the little things that make you go insane.

The store has everything anyone could need in a live or die situation. Of course some things cost a lot more here than some other places, but the deals are fair and we get a lot of the locals coming in regularly. Every day is nearly the same as the day before it, but every now and then something changes. Like cigarette prices that have risen since New York State decided they needed more money to redecorate their offices or spend on hookers. In case you were wondering hookers are getting quite expensive it seems especially since the cost of their cigarettes went up. It’s a vicious cycle that every one of us has to pay. Because someone has to be making money off of something.

My break is almost up and I really don’t want to walk back in there and put on a fake smile, like I give a shit. I don’t know how I got myself into this situation, but yet in some twisted way I do. If it wasn’t for the drugs I don’t know what I would do with myself. I am rather confused about how everything really is and I often wonder if it is my brain that is lying to me. I throw my cigarette down on the ground, it makes a hissing noise as it penetrates the snow. I twist the cap off my shitty energy drink and swallow another pill that I most certainly need to get through the rest of my shift. It is another long day in hell and I welcome it with a smile.

The thing about it is. That it is really hard to chop up this book or burn it. I mean I guess you could, but who has that kind of money? If you do then you are in luck because…

 

Look I’m not very good at selling my soul which is why I have to do it and not someone I pay is doing it. Jesus that’s a bad sentence. I’m not sure what about it is bad. I just don’t like it.  

Everyone Is A Character

11/29/09

The devil may have his due, but I will have my day. I will have my reign and oh how it will rain. My vengeance and justice will pour down on all the men and woman who disobeyed me. Those of you who would not follow my orders when I told you to lead. The whole world will be mine and only mine, and every man, woman, and child shall be my slave and I their master. I will pave the way with the bodies of those who dare to disobey me ever again. The weak will be hung from poles lighting my destruction across the world. This wave of violence will be my repayment for all that was done to me. This and only this could ever be seen as forgiveness in my eyes. Mark my words I will make you bleed. I will make you pay for every little thing that has been done. Now keep your fucking dog off my god damn lawn asshole.

Sincerely,

Your Neighbor.

 

This is a fun one because it is based on fact. Well kind of… It wasn’t all too bad though… Since the dog couldn’t read so she wasn’t offended by any of this… Though secretly I think she knew… She Knew What She Was Doing… 

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.

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…