Broken Thoughts… Tired Of Waiting…

Taking eight more hours of my life
Lifeless spider crawls across my skin
Been dead inside for so long
Forgot what it meant to live at all
Taking each moment as it comes
Losing track of each day
Is it Tuesday or Sunday?
Does it even matter anymore?
Building a nest of dead things in my heart
Thoughts and memories I want to forget
Burned in my mind, across my skin
Feel everything and nothing all the same
Strapping myself to the stake
Living a life without complaint
In death maybe I could be free
Maybe more of the same
Too much doubt in everything
Moving on, where it leads all the same
Outcomes and differences are for those
Who have nothing to lose

If you concern yourself with other people’s problems… They are no longer their problems…

Counting the minutes until the end
Running numbers inside my head
Roaming clock of gunshots in the distance
Loud noises to prove I’m still here
Endless ideas to hold me under
Went in early the day that I died
Only to know I’ve been here before
Thoughts written out in tiny sentences
Short little ideas I live out
Living was an ideas I couldn’t comprehend
Dying seemed too easy to be the plan
Stuck somewhere in between complaining
Counting the minutes until this is all over
Don’t rush me I’ve already skipped ahead
Pushing myself beyond limits
Burning the candle at both ends?
Try doused in gasoline

Smashing myself against the glass…

Desperately trying to hang on
Fingers clenched to the side of it all
If a dream doesn’t last
Is it a nightmare or the end?
Some days are better
Today is not one of them
Running in the night
Chasing darkness
Desperately trying to hang on
To this dream I created in my head
Never had another choice
They say we have a purpose, do we?
They say we make our own future, do we?
They say so much shit
Infecting and rotting my brain
I miss the days when nothing I said meant anything
Step after step, can’t turn back
All for nothing, all that I have become
What was the point of this?
If for nothing at all
Tired of waiting, tired of even caring
Drain my own blood and it wasn’t enough
Running from the demon, chasing the dark
Running from myself all along
Where did I really think I was going
With myself tagging along
There never was no dream, no army, no wall
Only me, only my own demons to conquer
Been so blind, so misguided for too long
Known the answer for too long
A dream isn’t an idea
A nightmare or a choice
Something we are born with
Something we must do, see to the end
A battle between good and evil
Right and wrong
Heaven and Hell
A battle that never mattered at all
The dream is me
The darkness is me
The demon is me
Need to shut up and enjoy the ride
Need to quit waiting
Quit complaining and enjoy the life I was given
The one I created
The one I’ve always wanted
Limits are for the ones too scared to look past them
The ones I have placed upon myself
New dawn rises, where I stand
Is where I chose to be
Suffer or survive
It is all on me

Well that got intense… for me at least… talked out a lot of thoughts out of my head… talked myself off a ledge… need to stop feeling sorry for myself… stop feeling like I’m not good enough to do this… all of this… spent too much of my life doubting myself… hurting myself… pretending I wasn’t… no one cares and maybe they shouldn’t… no where is it written that they should… reading between the lines only get you stuck between two ideas…

Been stuck there for a very long time… stuck in my head… now that I’ve stepped out… where do I go?… what is the path?… what is the goal?.. spent so much time thinking this would get better… this would all heal itself… missing all the better around me… the hope I thought I lost… has been standing next to me all along… locked away by my own selfishness… by my own insecurities… some of you have seen into the window of my heart… between the bars… but I haven’t until today… all I ever saw was the cage… the limits…

The path is clear… the goal is simple… failing is not an option… nothing is over until it is done… I’m not going anywhere… so strap in… going to come back swinging… as I have always said I would… and you should…

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

Something Different… Q & A… 3… Digging Up The Dead…

We are playing The Ungame one last time this cycle… I pick six random ass questions from the stack… and away we go…

Turn 1… If You Were Convinced That Reincarnation Was A Fact, How Would You Like To Come Back?

No real need to convince me of reincarnation… fingers crossed that all of this is to come back once again… who wants to only live one life… from one perspective?… boring… This one is pretty easy for me… I would want to come back as a bird… unsure what bird though… being a penguin would be amazing… gliding through the endless ocean… dodging death at every turn… living in the cold… but I would want the ability to fly high above the earth… or to be able to fly at all…see everything in a way I could never in this life time… go anywhere my body could take me… not have to live in the restraints of a society I was born into…

To me being a bird means freedom… freedom to do whatever it is that you want… being any animal seems to be that way… but knowing life I’m sure that we are all stuck in some sort of cage…

Turn 2… Complete The Statement; “One Thing I Missed During My Childhood Was…”

Hmm… I’d have to say I was pretty lucky… sure maybe I could have used a Dad… didn’t but maybe I could have… could have spent more time with my extended family… didn’t but oh well… I wouldn’t really say I missed anything because it is hard to know what you missed if you didn’t know about it… everything could go one way or another… and I’m pretty content on how my life turned out… if I had to pick something though… I would say the sense of home…

I move around a lot as a child… and even into my young adulthood… which is something that is actually hard to complain about… I’ve seen and lived in place that some people have dreamed of living or seeing… some people have worked their whole lives to be able to do what I had the opportunity to do… so I’m not going to go on some long rant about how I missed all this shit I didn’t know about… but sometimes I get jealous of others… that didn’t go anywhere… that idea that no matter where they go in this world… they can always go home…

That is a pretty strong… comforting feeling… I only have one place out of all the places that I have lived that I consider “home”… and I can never go back to that place… it was a time and place I can never get back too… maybe that is how it is for others and I don’t know… or maybe it isn’t… one of life’s many mysteries…

Turn 3… What Makes You Laugh?

haha… some dark ass shit… my line for comedy is pretty thin… would I laugh at my own mothers death?… maybe… what’s the joke?… I tend to not get so offended by what people say… because people say a lot of shit… an ungodly amount of shit really… and I fit right into that… maybe it is from being ugly… being bullied as a child… but it takes a lot for me to get angry rather than laugh… so much so that I get in “trouble” for just saying whatever in person… I tend to not think about what it is that I am saying… or who I am saying it to… and sometimes… I may or not have crossed a few lines…

Things that make me laugh… murder… serial killers… missed placed words… miss placed actions… new age rappers names… death… life… race… humanity… dogs… cats… fail videos… too much man ass in a movie or show… sex… stupidity… myself… my daughter… people trying to hard… slapstick… comments… and stupid shit… I’ll laugh at anything… and even when I don’t… I tend to laugh at the situation…

Turn 4… If There Is Unnecessary Laughing – Some People Might Be Afraid To Share Their Feelings. Be Aware of the Mood You Create! Take another card.

This made me laugh…

Turn 5… Say Something About Earthquakes.

They can move the earth… How is this even a question?… they just got lazy on a few of these… fun fact… I have been through a few earthquakes… nothing horrific as the ones on the news… but there are places on earth where they just happen… no big deal… lose a picture frame or lamp and move on… those types are actually pretty fun… I rather enjoyed them… the ones where people die?… fuck that… That would not be fun at all…

Turn 6… Do You Ever Feel Lonely? When?

This is two questions… lazy writing… learn the rules of your own game… avoiding the question maybe?… I get lonely because I am human… It doesn’t happen often because I was an only child… so I can feel it… but I move on from it rather quickly in general… The loneliness I feel when I am not around my wife and daughter… is a little hard to move past…

I feel that constantly… right now… even… I want to write and get some work done… but I miss them… wonder what they are doing… what we will do later… I would say that the idea of loneliness has changed a lot for me over time… I wouldn’t call it a learned behavior… I’m sure that I was lonely a lot as a child… but I didn’t know it… so maybe that is why I overcompensate so much as an adult… I’ve been called clinging… haha… yeah me… but for the most part… I love to be alone… It is all I really know… I find so many things to do in this idea of alone… sometimes it can be hurtful but for me it is relaxing…

What?… I think people who are only child’s will understand what I mean… everyone else maybe not so much… so many sides to a coin… I can admit though that the feeling of being a lone is very overwhelming… but so is the idea that there is always someone there… there needs to be a balance… just like with everything in life… in truth though we are never truly a lone… that is one thing I have learned from this life… and this website…

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

Chewing On Glass Presents… Release Me…

There is a line we do not cross
Hop over it once and it’s all your fault
Step over it again and find out what’s wrong
Thin lines grow between hearts and breaks
Thin lines grow between us
Keeping us apart yet very much the same
There are lines we do not cross
Reach over them once and it’s all your fault
Fall over it again and find out what’s wrong
Thin lines grow between souls and life
Thin lines grow within us
Keeping us together yet very much the same

“What do you got there Sylvia?” An orderly asks. Her young frame hunched over an open notebook. She pretends to not hear the question. “Hey Sylvia,” he calls out once again. As the youngest patient in the asylum he isn’t used to her teenage attitude in this dark dingy place overcrowded with pain, neglect, and isolation. “Nothing, just something I have been working on to pass the time,” she answers. “Did you not hear me the first time?” He ask. “I heard you,” she says into her notebook. “Okay, well maybe sometime you could show me what you have been working on,” he smiles. She looks up at him, “Yeah maybe.” She buries her head back into her notebook. The orderly shakes his head and walks over to the other side of the room to talk to the other patients in the recreation room. “So what are you working on Harold?” She hears him ask the only other patient not drugged out of their mind. She picks up her pen.

I’m so depressed here. I wish I never “volunteered” to be admitted. Should have just run away again or finished what I started. I’ve been rubbing the scars again. No one would listen to me outside of this walls or inside them. I should have known he would have sent me to a place that wouldn’t listen. This place is like school. “Sylvia stop your lying.” Maybe I’m not lying. Maybe you aren’t listening. The deep jagged cuts down my arm don’t help me to forget. The pain is long gone from the last time, but somehow still linger in my mind. Thought maybe if I wasn’t pretty anymore. Wasn’t perfect then maybe. It doesn’t matter what I thought. How many times am I going to tell myself the same thing? How many times am I going to justify trying to kill myself? No one cares why it happened as long as it isn’t happening. I’m safer here than at home. That’s what is important. As long as I keep my volunteer status he can’t hurt me. As long as I am here I am safe. The reason doesn’t matter anymore. No one is going to stop him, but at least I did.

 The orderly makes his way back over to her. His footsteps echo within the room. She closes up her notebook, “Yes Charles?” He checks his watch, “I’ve been reminded to remind you that your next appointment is in a five minutes.” She rolls her eyes, “Funny how that seems to be the case every week.” He smiles and pretends that her attitude isn’t bothering him. A talent he learned from his two girls at home. “It is quite odd. Might have to do something about that,” he jokes. “Them doing anything here would be a first,” she says as she gets up from her chair and walks away.

The door to the doctor’s office is open slightly as she knocks on the door. “Come in. How are we doing today Sylvia?” The doctor asks as he looks at a chart that isn’t even hers. “Fine, I guess. Same as always,” she mocks. “You know you can leave whenever you want? Maybe go back home and spend some time with your family. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He asks without looking at her once. “I’m sure they miss me immensely. At least that is what they would want you to believe, but I’m certain I am just fine right here,” she looks down at her scars once again. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. I’ll make a call to your parents and tell them you are ready to go home,” he says. “I didn’t say that at all,” she says. “I just want to tell you Sarah we made some real progress in the time that you have been here,” the doctor rattles off. “My name is Sylvia,” she says in anger. “Yes, I am aware and I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to write you a script for some mood suppressors. You don’t have to take them, but if you feel all the anxiety coming back on I want you to feel safe,” the doctor says. “I feel safe here. I want to stay here,” She tries to reason. “Change is good for you. You have been here too long. It’s time for you to go home. I know your father misses you every much. I have been keeping him updated and he seems as optimistic as I am about your recovery,” he looks up from his chart. “So go ahead and get your things ready for tomorrow. That seems like a perfect place to end today,” he gives off a weak smile. Sylvia begins to cry. The tears falling from her eyes to her arms and running along her scars, “I don’t want to go.” The nurse comes in and places a hand on her shoulder. “Nurse remind me that I need to call her parents in a bit and if you could have Charles bring in the next patient that would be wonderful,” the doctor asks. “Yes, sir. Come on Sylvia let’s get you back to your room,” the nurse says to her. “But I don’t want to go,” she begins to sob. “I know dear. I know,” the nurse says as she rubs her shoulder. The doctor goes back to his file as the nurse escorts Sylvia from the room.

“There she is,” Charles calls out as he walks by her open door. “Glad to see you writing again,” he says to her. She doesn’t respond to him as she sits still at her desk. Memories flooding her mind. “Wanted to check in on you. Heard you were pretty upset earlier,” he says to more silence. “Also heard you were going home tomorrow too. That is good news,” he tries to sound excited. “Mind If I take a look at what you are writing? I understand if you don’t feel like talking,” Charles suggest. “Very much so. It is private,” she snaps at him. “I see you are excited about leaving tomorrow,” he snaps back. “Maybe even sooner,” she says under her breath. “What?” Charles asks concerned. “I said I want you to leave. Did you not hear me the first time,” Sylvia screams at him with tears in her eyes. “I just want you to know that I am here if you need to talk,” Charles says in a caring voice before walking out of the room. Sylvia quickly gets up from her chair and slams the door behind him. Only doors don’t slam here. She pushes all her weight against the door to try and get it to close faster. Tears streaming down her face as she struggles. Despite living in the same room for the past six months her room is nearly bare. A bed, a dresser, and a desk. “Her desk,” she thinks to herself. Her father’s money was at least good for something in this place. A private room and her own desk, but they wouldn’t let her have her pens. Not after what happened. They gave her special hospital pens, but only after she had developed trust. She couldn’t do much of anything with those useless things any way. She calms down enough to return to her desk and flips open the note book to where she left off.

There is a silence
It is a constant
There is a sadness
It is a constant
There are so many things
And they are all constant
I can taste the blood on the page
I can feel the sweat on the page
I can see the tears on the page
As each drop becomes the page
Why doesn’t anyone understand

Sylvia tosses the note book as hard as she can. It bursts open as it smashes against the wall. Papers, words, time falls to the floor. She begins to sob at the thought of the words, “I know your father misses you very much.” Visions of the past fill her mind. Remembering the pain.  Remembering the fear of it all. Remembering that no one would listen. No one cared. “How could you ever say a thing like that about your father,” her mother’s words echo in her mind. Only to be replaced by the memory of his touch and his words. “You are so beautiful. My perfect little angel,” his words like poison slipping into her mind. You are confused at first. Why now? Why this? So you fight it the best you can, but the fight becomes useless. The whole thing becomes normal. A daily routine that you can’t wash away from your mind. The thought becomes clear. If I’m no longer perfect then it will stop. The memory of the pain from before washes over her once again. Make myself imperfect. Make it go away. The blood drips on the floor. It stains the carpet, but they clean it and they move on. It never stops the abuse. The monster doesn’t care if you are perfect. The monster doesn’t care at all. Deeper you dig. Deeper you find yourself in pain. Deeper until you think that it is over. Until you find yourself here and know that it is. Sylvia reaches under her desk to grab the item hidden beneath. When she got here she was hopeful that it would never have to be used again, but deep down she knew someday she would need a way out. She holds the jagged piece of mental in her hands. “We don’t even know what she cut herself on,” he mother told the hospital. Squeezing all her anger and the pain into it. “Here we go again,” she thinks. “A conclusion I can no longer hide away from.” She holds the broken piece of metal in her hand. She gently places it on her desk and opens her last remaining note book.

“When we bleed it is only to cleanse our souls. It’s like letting the air out of the tires every now and then. Sometimes it hurts more than others, but the hurt never compares to the pain. The hurt feels good in a way. The pain doesn’t. I wish someone would have listened to me. Anyone at this point. I wish I could explain the pain that I am in, but for some reason, I can’t. It could be the lack of blood still left within me or my ever lack of words associated with the pain. Pain is nothing like the hurt. The hurt comes and goes, but the pain. The pain is always there. Every once in a while I found myself here in this place. This dark hole surround by all the pain I don’t understand. This place of self-loathing and hate. I control my own destiny, right? Or have I just misheard some well-placed advice? Maybe I don’t control anything since no matter my choices I always end up here. I always end up with this pain. No one cares, but everyone’s still listening. I know it is not my fault and maybe it still is. Should have never. Should have done things differently. This has to be for the best. Nothing else left to do. Except release myself from this burden. Release me from this hole. I tried. I really did. Maybe not enough or in the way I should have….”

This is a work of fiction, but sadly the concept behind it is not. This story is lived day in and day out by an unknown amount of children. Many of whom do not reach out. It is not normal and it is not okay. If you or someone you know is being abused. Please reach out for help and never stop reaching out for help. Help is always there even when it feels like the whole world won’t listen to you. Click the links below to find help or to find out how you can help those in need. You are not powerless and you are loved.

Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) – National Sexual Assault Hotline

For A List of National Hotlines


I debated on how graphic I wanted to get with this story… from the suicide to the abuse… I debated for a long time… this story kind of took a life of it’s own… I started the story with the idea to write a back story to a previous character… Sylvia from Purgatory… seemed pretty simple… I liked the character a lot from that story… I liked her attitude… I liked who she could have been… seeing how everyone in that story is dead already when we meet them… I wanted to do a sequel…

The original idea for Sylvia was to write out a “love story” where she explains what her scars are from to the main character of Purgatory… (Fun fact… I only kept writing that story because of her… Sylvia to me was the thread that held that early story together for me…) but I don’t do love stories very well… and I wasn’t sure how she had gotten her scars… In the original story she never says… she hides them when ever she can… spark… “why?”… and the more I thought about it… the more it became the story above… Of course when I came up for air I found myself someplace very far from a “love story”…

The first couple of drafts had way more detail… way more things that didn’t need to be said… and I’m not afraid to say certain things… I’ve got stories to prove it… but this one seemed different… though this didn’t happen to me personally… it felt personal… which made this one that much harder to write… as an observer it is always easier to write something when you are not attached to the subject… I of course didn’t want anything to ever happen to Sylvia… I don’t want anything to happen to anyone… and sadly these things do… So I didn’t want to just file it away and pretend like these things don’t happen… That these things could never happen…

Sometimes the hardest things to say are the ones that need to be said the most…

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

Something Different… Dancing Around The Poetry Fire…

Smile All Will Be Over Soon

Standing beside the devil at the gates of hell
There’s no heaven for someone like me
Laid down before Christ
Kissed his feet
Hoping I won’t be the only one that’s died
Best one could hope for a silent death
Stripping the flesh inch for inch
Killing the idea of you was never meant to be easy
Taking breath for breath, taking a life
Welcome home tattooed across my skin
In blood, in blood we learn what freedom is
Never forget who you really are
A devil saint masquerading as a demon
One in the fucking same, no different from the next
Who I am and what you’ll be
What is it that the world made me
A puppet, a pawn, my new plaything
Smile, this is all God ever asked from you
The blood only a part of the process
Smile, gave you all that you needed
Never good enough, no one ever will be
Need more to understand
What I’ve become
Same as you only worse
Never give anything
You aren’t willing to lose

Testing Out The Thoughts In My Head

Dragging the blade against the skin
What was it that you once said
No one could ever be a beautiful as you
Testing the theory that it was all in my head
How quickly you changed
Now who is the one begging I was dead
Dragging the blade against the skin
Tearing out all the dirty thoughts
Where do I begin, trapped within
No one could ever be as clean as you
Testing the theory that it was all in my head
How quickly I changed
Now who is the one suggesting medicine
Dragging the blade against the skin
Carving out all the pieces I adore
Being so selective never felt so good
What was it you once said
No one could be as perfect as you
I beg to differ on the subject
Testing the theory that it was all in my head
How quickly your pleas turn into threats
Now who is the one begging I quit
Dragging the blade against the skin
I wish I could live in
Worship me as I have always you
Be mine so we can end these stupid games
Promise me you’ll always be as beautiful
As I make you
Obsession leads to creativity
Testing out all the thoughts in my head

Got pretty dark in here… That first one started off as a Broken Thought… then it kept going… had to change the whole theme of my post… was originally going to talk about the sun and how life is so beautiful… really just the beauty of life… the normal things I like to talk about really… but then this dark cloud came out of nowhere… sometimes life is about riding the wave of emotions… maybe next time on Cuddling with Glass…. (That still sounds pretty painful… There’s nothing soft, warm, or fuzzy about glass… other options… Gluing with Glass… Blowing with Glass… if you came up with anything post it in the comments…)

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