When There’s No More Room… Part 8…

A Pattern of Abuse

“Try again. Sound out the words,” his mother says holding back her frustration. “I know it can be difficult to read, but you have to learn.” She rubs the top of his head. The little boy looks over the page studying the images first and then the words. “The boy ex, escaped through the fa, fa,” he stops as a hand smacks him hard against his head. “Fire you dumb shit. It says fire,” his father barks. “Damn it James he was only trying to sound out the word,” his mother pleads. “Stupid doesn’t know how to read fire?” His father asks before taking another drink. “I ain’t raising no dumb illiterate asshole in this house. He ain’t going to add up to shit any way, but if he can’t read? Be even more worthless than he already is. Can’t be slow, fat, and stupid,” his father argues. “You are one to speak. You can barely,” his mother doesn’t finish the sentence as his father raises his hand. Tears begin to form in the boy’s eyes. “That’s right woman. Know your place,” his father says before finishing off his drink. The boy fights the urge to cry. He knows better than to show weakness. Fights even harder to not let his father see. “Are you crying?” His father asks. The boy tries even harder to make the emotions stop by looking down away from his father. His father grabs him by the back of the neck, “Those look like tears to me. I asked you a question. Are you crying?” Tears fall from the boy’s eyes. “No,” the boy yells. His father’s eyes light up. The spark that he needed. “James don’t. He didn’t mean it,” his mother pleads. “Bitch unless you want to be taught a lesson yourself I suggest you shut the fuck up and get me another drink.” His mother walks out of the room as the hand around his neck squeezes to the point he can barely breathe. “You don’t talk to me like that you little shit. Even got your mother acting stupid. Must be some kind of sickness going around here. Best to stomp this sickness right out before it spreads any further.”

James drags his son by the neck out of the room and down the basement stairs, “First you can’t even read. Now all of a sudden you the big man with the balls to talk to your father like that. You want to cry like a baby? We don’t cry in this family. You want to be a man? Act like one.” James throws his son against the cage across from the basement stairs. The boy’s body lands against the cage with a loud crash. Grabbing his side the boy cries harder as he lay against the dirt floor. “Get in the cage,” his father orders. Kicking the child in the back, “I said get in the cage. What are you deaf and dumb now? Don’t act like you don’t know what is happening.” The boy shakes in fear as he enters the cage. The cage door slams hard behind him as he falls to the dirty floor of the cage. Torn up bits of clothing and old rotten food surround him as he fights the pain in his side. Fights to breathe. Fight the urge to scream. He can no longer take it as he hears the familiar sound of his father picking up the old iron rod. He wails in pain and frustration as he knows what comes next.

“Strip,” his father orders. “I don’t want to,” the boy expels in broken words and snot. “Sorry what was that?” His father mocks. Striking the side of the cage with the iron rod, “Don’t you make me ask twice? No use in fucking up your clothes over your stupidity, but don’t think I won’t.” His father walks over to the furnace and opens the door. The boy does as he was told. The fire burning inside lights up the room. His father places the end of the rod in the fire before asking, “Are you sorry?” Too afraid to move, too afraid to see the boy lays there. “Are you or are you not sorry?” His father asks. “Yes,” the boy shouts. “I want to hear you say it,” his father demands. The iron rod heats up. The boy sits up and grabbing the side of the cage, “I’m sorry father.” His father stands there with his back facing him. Doesn’t even bother to look him. Only stares at the end of the iron bar in the fire,” I don’t believe you.”

“So this pattern of abuse went on for years?” The doctor asks. The young man nods to the question. “Why not report it to anyone?” The doctor asks. “To who?” He asks right back. Writing some notes down the doctor studies the young man’s body language. “Tell me Steven did it feel good doing what you did? Getting your revenge? Was it worth it?” The Doctor asks. “No, not really. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t enjoy it the way that he did,” Steven says. “Odd because I don’t believe you,” the doctor smiles. Steven smiles back. “It did feel good shoving that hot iron rod right up his ass. Should have heard the way he screamed. The way he cried like a little baby until his last breathe. I didn’t enjoy the beginning but the end? It was too bad that it couldn’t have happened sooner. But we all learn a lesson in the end I suppose,” Steven rubs the scars on his side over his hospital gown.

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Right Now… And Five Minutes After… Okay Maybe Longer…

On My Desk Right Now

  1. Reciprocating Saw
  2. Mix of ash and saw dust
  3. Stacks of papers
  4. Ash Tray (Don’t smoke…)
  5. Lego building
  6. Pens and pencils
  7. Lemonade (The drink… not the person or Sprite)
  8. Speaker (Playing Feel Good Hit of the Summer by Queens of the Stone Age…)
  9. My head (Wondering… “what the fuck am I even doing?”..)

Answering a text. “Odd because so are we”… Context important only to me.

Looking over the papers. “What do I even want to do?… Write a story?… Broken Thoughts?… a poem or two?… Stare at the screen some more?… Puts head back on desk.

Daughter walks in the room. Screams at me about Ads on her knock off Minecraft game… “Fix it.” Too broke to buy the real thing… she is too young to even know how to use it… or so I think… deflects with… “I’m working”… Feeling like a shitty parent… the feeling will pass… Puts head back on desk.

Picks up lighter. (Seriously don’t smoke…) Lid catches on fire. (Too much fuel in the Zippo… Might be mentally challenged… stressing might…) Closes lid on lighter. Stares at the screen.

Thoughts in my head. I know that they are there… Big ass spider crawls across my desk. (Not Face Hugger Big… but big enough to notice…) “Do I kill it or let it live?”… try to kill it… it is too fast… lost it in the papers… no idea where it went… “Great”… Puts head back on the desk.

More texts. “Did you do what I asked?” No… feel like a shitty husband… the feeling will pass… Respond back. “I’m working”… Stares at the screen.

Instructions. Insert logo image. Insert links. Think of tags. Settle for what you already know. Schedule post. Put head back on the desk and think of something to say. Make something up if you have to.

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Sober writing is for people… who have something to say…

When There’s No More Room… Part 7…

I noticed the way she looks at me again today. The look of a blank stare, but it is not a blank stare. It is as if she is trying to tell me something that words could never really say. I see it in her eyes. Those cold green eyes. They appear almost gray as though something is hidden in them. Ten years I have stared into these eyes. Ten years I have study this girls eyes. I have watched as she has gone from child to woman and it is as though nothing has ever changed. Ten years of failure. Ten years of silence. I’ve run every test possible. Everything in the book just to hear her speak. Electroshock therapy, two electrodes attached to her head and enough electricity to shock anyone awake. Not a god damn peep. If it wasn’t for her pulse and her eyes I would rule her dead. I fought tooth and nail to keep her after she turned eighteen. The state told me she had served her time. I argued that she still needs to server more, but like this? Was it worth it?

Her crimes though not as extensive as the others leave a lot to the imagine nation as to why. Why a child would commit such a crime? A silent hour every week for ten years and I am not any closer to finding out the answer. Her eyes dance as if she is trying to tell me something. Maybe it is a neurological condition? No, I’ve tested that and came up with nothing. She chooses not to say anything at all. Ten years and I have never heard her voice. Witness, the neighbors claim to have heard her scream awakening them from a dead sleep. A scream like a siren only to stop. Replaced with silence. Imagine my jealousy to these complete strangers. Her eyes tease me like a loaded gun. Her eyes so innocent, so green, could they really have comprehended what she had done? Could anyone?

Could anyone understand fully the act of killing their parents? Witness testified that she was often beaten. Appeared to have bruises, black eyes, cuts all over her body. Never enough to raise alarm, but enough to noticed. The scars though faint are still there. What all her parents have done is lost in her eyes, but what she did has been well documented. The simplest of them all murder. The more complex. The ones I want to know, to understand? Hidden behind those eyes. How does a child carefully remove the skin of a person? Let alone their own parents? I know surgeons.  Doctors paid to be precise every day and every time. Even they do not understand how a child could be so methodic. A pile of skin laid on the floor as she began the real work she had set out to do. As one police officer stated in their report, “The organs were laid out. Laid out on display like we had to do in basic training for our rifles. Laid there ready to be put back in if need be.”

No, a child could not understand what they have done? Or could they? The answers sit before me waiting to be discovered. No evil in sight only a blank stare. Yet she sits before me. A child capable of tearing apart her whole family. A child who shaped the bones of her parents to that of some kind of monster. A child who took the skin of her mother from the floor and wore it like a costume until the police arrived. What kind of evil truly lives behind those green eyes?  

Sorry for the late post… internet has been down… the real horror of this story if you ask me… up an running… hopefully I won’t be late on the next one…

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Broken Thoughts… Living Until… We Lie…

I’m fat, I’m ugly
Cutting out all the things
That make me, me
What am I  without the flaws?
I’m stupid, I’m useless
Tearing out all the things
That I believe to be
Who have I been all this time?
I’m weak, I’m disgusting
Ripping out all the things
That I allow myself to be
How could I ever justify going on?
Just do
Cutting, tearing, ripping, destroying
The very things that make me, me
Why would I ever cave?
When the demons live inside
This very skin
Where do they live, where do I begin?

It was a nervous breakdown not a redemption

Did you ever really love me
A thought I hold deep down inside
A lie you’ve told time after time
The answer has always been lost in your eyes
Tip of your tongue, between your thighs
Guilty thought I’d never let die
I will ask one more time
I need the truth
So lie to me
Did you ever really love me

“It’s not as though I’m going to cut open your asshole and stick my head in. But I might.”

You’re so quiet
The words must be behind it all
Tearing out my eyes
Don’t care if I live
Only want to die
Kisses from beneath the ground
Hugs, I’ve always been
Everything you’ve despised
The only thing that makes any sense
Is that I am the end of everything
Smiling and I will destroy
My life for your ill will
Eating your heart
Because you already took mine

All over the place today… turning in my own grave… thoughts are endless… stay in the house because if we are all afraid… then it will never go away…

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When There’s No More Room… Part 6…

Slowly Dying Inside

“Why did it have to happen this way? Why did any of it have to happen this way?” I ask the steering wheel. “Could have been so much more. Something more than an orderly at a loony bin.” I tighten my hands around the steering wheel. Tighter and tighter, “You do it for her. You do everything for her. Remember that. We all have a price to pay. You do it it for her.” Tighter until my hands feel as if they are going to snap. “For her,” I say before letting go of the wheel.

I gather my things and take out one more cigarette out. Placing it too my lips I exit the car. It isn’t much to look at from the outside and it isn’t much better inside. A passer by, someone who doesn’t have to be here every day would think it was something. Sometimes I try to think it isn’t what it is. I tell her that it’s a castle. That was a mistake. No princesses in her. No god damn gold either. Only think to be found behind these walls is horror. Could have done more with myself had I focused. The thought depresses me. Most of my thoughts depress me as of late.

Odd how life turns out I think as I finish my cigarette and stomp it out. School seemed like such a waste of time. Now that she goes. I push her to take it seriously, but I can tell in her eyes. She already knows better. So smart. Need to stomp that out. Too afraid to push her away. So afraid to do what my old man did. Trying to fight something that I know all to well. Wonder if my father ever had that thought? Did what he did for a reason I guess. “Good morning Frank,” one of the nurses says to me as I enter the building. A smile washes over my face, “Good morning.” She smiles back at me, ” Have a great day.” I don’t say anything. I don’t have time for this. Always something to be done. No time for friends. Just want to get out of here already.

We are all like this place, falling apart. Even more so if actually want to help these monsters. Damn place isn’t worth the check. Check is all I need. Twelve hours of shit and then it all goes away for a time. Creeping back in as it always does. “For her,” I whisper under my breath. More greetings and niceties. More bull shit to shovel on top of the other shit. We pretend so well we might as be just as crazy as them. But we do as we are told so we are sane. That asshole doctor walking around here is the worst. No one is as good at pretending as him. Maybe maintenance. The thought brings an actual smile to my face. I’m not even sure I’ve ever seen them fix a damn thing around here. I light up another cigarette as my supervisor explains the goals for the day.

Drag after drag my brain shuts off. Same shit every day. Try to survive. I want to do something new. Something different, but all jobs are the same. They’ve all been the same. Only the uniform has changed. Should have listened after the war. Should have done something with myself. That’s the problem though isn’t it? I never listen. I need to do what I want to do. Almost got me killed then and now look at me. No one asked but I had dreams. I’m sure we all do. Before the war, before everything in my life really happened. I used to love to write. Tell myself stories with the toys I had. Dream of amazing landscapes filled with even more amazing characters. Fill the paper with all my ideas. Until my father found them. Told me to get my head out of the clouds. Told me with his hands. Do some real work. The one time I shouldn’t have listened. She loves my stories but that is all that they are, stories. Looking into their eyes. I’m sure even the crazy ones dream too.

They wander the halls. Some of them so out of it they walk right into the walls. Those are the ones to watch. They become frustrated by their inability to go where they want to go. Throwing themselves into the wall head first over and over again. It won’t do anything to them, but “We are here to look after them.” They are so far gone they don’t even feel the pain. Watched one snap their own nose. They are so out of it they don’t even notice the blood in their eyes. What are they giving them that they don’t even notice the blood in their eyes? They all have to be watched I remind myself. They are all matches waiting for a strike. One day this place will go off. How I pray that I am not here the day it does. None of it matters though. All of this is just another day that I’m slowly dying inside. The shift starts and all I can think about is that I do this for her. She will be better. She will be more than I was. Traded in my dreams and out she came. Somethings are bigger than ourselves. Somethings are worth sacrificing ourselves for.

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Broken Thoughts… Pretty Good Idea…

This is the end of everything
My ever need
Bury me
A grave with nothing to say
Say my name
Devil inside me
Destruction at every turn
Living in a world that couldn’t sit still
I’ll bring you everything you need
Screaming in place

Can’t see the words through the blur

Hangman’s noose
Judge, jury
Hate myself more
Than anyone ever could
Punishment for sins unknown
Woke up into a world of shit
Born into this skin
Wish I could escape somehow
Every attempt leaves me feeling
Wishing I was dead
Screaming in my skull
Dragging this body around

Spilling shit all over myself

In the shadows becoming something else
The trick isn’t as exciting when
You know the process
Down right depressing
If you only knew
You’d ask me to stop, give up
Save yourself you’d say
Who would I be anyway
Giving away everything
Save you for myself

I need to stop listening to sad songs…. bringing out the best in me?… unlikely…

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Broken Thoughts… A Mind Field… To Not Step On…

I’m at the end
Only I didn’t know
The beginning could feel
The same way
I’m at the end of everything
Cut my rope, spared my throat
Why is it you feel the need
To lie to me
The real you knows
What it is that you are doing
Driving the nails deeper
Not worth the price in my head
All I ever wanted was for you to love me
Begging for change, it seems I asked too much
Dug a hole, to a place called hell
I mean home
Buried myself in
Knew it when I was at the end
Only I didn’t know
It would be you dancing on my grave
At the end of everything
Couldn’t kill me
Cut my rope, spared my throat

The silence is crippling

Living through this time
Feels like a walking suicide
Take my hand and lead the way
I’ve given in, tell me what to say
Fill me with all of your lies
A waking nightmare
Another drink and I’ll be fine
A fucking joke, words lost on me
Take my hand and lead the way
To the cliff that hangs
Push me off, can’t resist
Your lies have always been
Everything to me
Does it make you sad
To know what you do
Living through this with you
Has always been more than I could
Ever say

The loneliness is isolating

Silently leading me to my own death
Your venom sinks into my skin
A kiss on my lips
Is all this has ever been
One more day and I’ll be fine
Longest day of my life
Breaking me down inside
Until I’m nothing but
On display
Don’t mistake my agony
For love
Twisting the knife in my vein
You have a hand in everything
Drinking to make the pain go away
Living through this time
Feels like a walking suicide
Take my hand and lead the way
Dug my own grave
I do until this
Ends

Kill myself to prove a point

An endless decision
Without any conclusion
Like suffering where you stand
Here I am

This one was pretty long… You know you’ve had too many… when how to spell conclusion… escapes you… don’t forget to tip your waitresses… servers is the more politically correct term… sucking on a tail pipe… another day crossed of my list… a fucking fool… in sheep’s clothing… basically signing the fuck off… taking a bow… I don’t deserve…

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