Took It For What It Was… Broken Thoughts…

Bleeding out the words
For all those to see
Those of us in need like me
Sleeping through the moments
Working the words into the bone
Said you wanted more
Given all that I could afford
Running on nothing but an idea
Of how all this was meant to be
Liked to think I knew anything at all
But at least in that sense
I know better
Told myself I’d never cross a line
Nowhere in sight
Standing at the threshold of nothing
Forget wondering I already know
Too far to be done
Give away everything because
One day you will have nothing to lose
Full circle from where I am to where I was
A pool of my words, a river of blood
Sitting in an ocean of my own thoughts
Where is it that I ever thought I was?

“I want to be found like a lost party in the desert”…

What’s one more dance with death
When life feels like it is leaving me
Tired of all the disease, the sickness, this infection
Tired of all the need, the want, this thing in me
What’s one more day with life
When death always feels like it is chasing me

Drinking the blood to replenish the soul…

A belief in something real
The idea that we are not alone
Drowning in questions with no answers
Free will was meant to be freedom
A broken system programmed into my head
The idea that any of this was meant to work
Is lost on me
Figuring out not even God
Knows what the fuck is going on

Digging at the stitches because that was the plan for today…

I’ve been baptized by a monster
Suffocating and sending me below
Hell a home I know
Hell is all there ever was
Take me with you when you go
I miss you so
So, you’ve sown me shut
Existence sending me below
Only hell that I’ve known
Bored and ready to go
Take me back home
How I’ve missed it so
Praying before the darkness
Let me go, let me be free
From the chains, the suffering, and the need
Swaying to the sound of a heart beat
Drowning to the rhythm of experience
Suffering to the collected sound
Of this dream
All that I need
Is to be
All that I need
Is right in front of me
All that I need
Been within me all along
Hell a home that I know
Hell was all there ever was
I miss you so you’ve shown me

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Well it is basically over… the end of summer on this half of the planet at least… did you do anything fun?… I’m sure where I live it will feel like summer for at least a few more months… so I still got plenty of time to feel miserable… still have plenty of time to get that “summer feeling” out of my system… whatever that means… Until we meet again… I hope that all is well…

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Chewing On Glass Presents… Fact or Fiction…

“I know your life is a never ending nightmare full of horror and deceit. I know you are often at odds with yourself and this horrid thing called life. Every morning is filled with contempt as you have this endless debate on whether or not you should kill yourself in your shower or while your K-cup brews or in your car that is neither new nor old but works just fine. These things I know because I’m sitting right next to you. These things I know because I’m looking at the same things you are. These things I know because we share the same eco-friendly renewable water source in the same god damn forsaken city on the banks of some form of water. I know all these things, I think all these things because I too live a life of perfect balanced, zero struggle life know as modern society. Chances are we think the same exact way but out of pure boredom let’s say I don’t. Because we have to be different in this world. We have to be special when it comes to things like this in life. Odds are against us though. Dictated by our most basic thoughts. Experiences we believe to be different, unique in and of themselves. We went to the same school, learned from the same books, ate the same shitty food, and lived near perfect replicas of the same life. Let me guess you played doctor? Let me guess you owned a copy of GTA 3? Let me guess you couldn’t catch’em all on paper or digitized? Let me guess you thought you were special? Well you’re not, you and I are more alike than you and I might think. We are so close you and I that we could be one in the same. Chances are we are in fact the same robotic, institutionalized, modern guilt individuals walking side by side right now. We could say hello to one another but we won’t. We could relate our dream suicide scenario but we won’t. We could discuss just how much we actually hate each other but we won’t. Because what’s the point? Why tell you everything you already know? Why bother letting you in on our little secrets? We all have secrets, guilty pleasures, they are all the same but we have them. We imagine that they are the little things that make us different. That the tidbits of information we hold dear separate us from fact and fiction. When really there is no such thing separating us at all. We live a life of fact and fiction. We live a life of knowing we are the same, fact. We live a life thinking in some way we are different, fiction. We live lives that are exactly the same. We fuck women and men who are exactly the same. We blindly follow the dumbest of our kind because we know that they are the same. We read books and stories, watch movies and shows on people or about people who are exactly the same. Like you I will do nothing to change this. Like you I will be proud of what I have become. Like you I will ride this life into the ground hoping for something better but being served up the exact same thing. There is no difference between animal and man we were put here to do the exact same thing, suffer until our last dying breathe.”

“What an interesting report Timothy,” the teacher calls out from behind her desk. “Not quite “A” material but informative all the same in its own way. Go ahead and take your seat with the rest of the class.” She shuffles some papers. Disheveled herself, “Umm, if we could have Stephanie, Stephanie Keaton come up next.” Stephanie gets up from her seat and takes her place at the head of the class. “Now Stephanie why don’t you tell us something fun you’ve learned this summer.”

At least Timothy knows what the hell is going on… this twist was a last minute addition… one added without thought… the best kinds… been a while since I wrote this… but I’m sure this was meant to be some big speech… some epic quest to prove to myself… prove to everyone… the shallow pool we inhabit… I think it worked… even if Tim Tim has a long way to drag his corpse… I think there is something inherently interesting behind the idea of a child rattling off dark thoughts…

Something hidden beyond the surface of innocence… maybe because at times I feel like a child trapped in an adults body… screaming… this is fucked up… and being greeted with deaf ears… No one cares about anything until it starts happening to them… until it is too late… and then… well then it doesn’t really matter does it?… by then it has become the new normal… something to add to the shit pile… and something to embrace… to accept as part of life… well that wasn’t at all fun Stephanie…

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Get Ready For Winter and Show Off Your Love of Cats… or Glass… Whatever You Are Into Is Fine With Me…

Until we meet again… I hope all is well… Thank you to all of those that read their way through my mind… thank you for all the support… big or small… Take care of yourself… keeping working towards your dream… and I’ll see you back here once again…

Ambrose

Locked Inside My Own Head… Broken Thoughts…

So you said something
Didn’t happen again
What the hell am I to believe
My idea of you or the truth
Blinded by my own insecurities
How could anyone do this to you
Break you down
Place you and everything you could be
Into categories
Cutting you down until you fit
Their every need
Controlling everything from a distance
They can’t hear the words inside your head
How you felt what they meant

“Where do you draw the line between what is fiction and what is real?”
“Same as you draw any line. Pen to the paper and you just keep going. None of this is real. So very few things are real or the truth in this world. Images and thoughts or memories built up inside your head. Past actions nothing more than reflections of events you believed to have happen. Life is fiction.”
“Interesting way of looking at it.”
“How do you look at it?”

Digging a hole with your name on it
Call it a grave, call it a home
Call it all that you will know
Didn’t need all this need
Spoken in words that no one understands
Not a language but a tribal hatred from within
Burying was never the hardest part of this
Watching you die was only the beginning
Took long enough if you asked me
You couldn’t so you didn’t
Screaming at hollowed out bodies has taken a turn
These thoughts don’t go away
They only breed, manifest into different things

“Sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between love and violence. Intentions and actions, but in the end the two things are never the same.”

Knew at some point we’d have to meet face to face
That all of this would come to a head
Baseball bat or a kiss what’s the difference
When you’re bleeding out
Needful things consuming me
Eating away at my core
Toss me away until I have something to say
Spinning in circles
Tires burning down to the ground
Rubber left marks like blood streaks on the pavement
The place of your death

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Anyone enjoying these new title cards?

This piece was actually one whole thought… but it had too many themes to be a complete thought… the first thought break is actually from my forth coming novel… and the last thought break… is just a random thought I had at work… as most of these Broken Thoughts come from…

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Pressed Against The Wall… Seeping Into The Cracks…

Slowly

Carrying the weight of our souls
On my back through this living hell
I wish for more
But all I get is the same
Carnivorous, carnivores
We eat our young
Shit out the old
A machine made of razor blade teeth
The cycle won’t end
For fear that all will be lost
For fear of death
For fear of something different
We think that we know everything
We know nothing beyond the idea of despise
The fact we can breathe
Is a miracle in of itself
Embrace this, embrace it all
With an open heart and closed eyes
See where it takes us after all
Slowly declining such a sad existence
Slowly inhaling
Slowly exhaling
Slowly breathing this all away

 

One Piece At A Time

Against all odds
Pulled it off
But lost it all
If you think you know
You learn to find
You know nothing at all
The importance of thought
A grain of sand
In a giant tidal wave of shit
You drown in it
You struggle threw it
But in the end
You only learn to live with it

 

A Place Called Home

Slowly killing myself
Slowly killing you
I take you down with me
To a deep dark hole
I’ve come to call my soul
After everything we’ve done
After everything I’ve said
There’s not much left to love
A fear I have come to commend
Slowly killing myself
Slowly killing you
I take you within me
To have and to hold
Forever of old
To a place called home

How is it that nothing is ever finished?… day after day… year after year… always something new to say about the same damn thing?… a broken cycle?… or… the way it is?… Is this my journey?… or… all I have to say?… being trapped in my house isn’t… well any different than normal for me… locked away in hiding… is basically my overall goal in life… odd that the idea of prison or hell… scares me… I don’t even believe in one of those… funny how we fear the very thing we want… broken… the only conclusion I have found… outside of being human…

Moving on… Broken Thoughts Vol 2… should be out by now… if all goes as planned… how did you enjoy it?… a step in the right direction or a step off a cliff?… the deep end I should pull myself out of once again?… self doubt is the essence of my existence… and the nail that will do me in… I fear it all as much as I want it… so… in the end… all I want is fear… comforting… if uncomfortable after all…

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Say It With Your Chest…

Smells Like Death On A Warm Summer Night… Broken Thoughts…

Spoken with a hint of irony
A blasphemous idea spread over time
Could the devil exist without a god
Aren’t they one in the same in the end
Spoken but never heard
Good and evil working together
To tear this all down
Order breeds chaos
Chaos breeds order
Life isn’t a line
But a circle waiting on time

“We’re always quitting something. Whether it’s childhood, drugs, alcohol, or sugar. We have to be quitting something and for what?”

Strip away all that you know
What is left, a blank slate
The devil and god could only know
What it was like in the beginning
Don’t want to believe it
A pawn to a system that can’t be won
Don’t want to listen when
The truth is so hidden
A life made out of lies

From ape to man our ideas have always been the same…

Past along idea, still no one wants to hear
A liar, a vile existence, a useless idea
Correct, my beliefs have always been
Take your lies and walk your line
Do not step across into mine
What I believe is how it is
Repeated mantra of millions
Spreads into billions
Becomes the truth
Because new ideas are not the light
New ideas are not accepted in this life
Strike me in the heart
Watch me die

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Well that was interesting… not sure if this is a real Broken Though considering it is one idea… broken up… pretty boring day… about to work on the timeline for my novel… I guess you could call it an outline… but the novel will not be linear so you can’t call it an outline… a preoutline?… which the computer is telling me it is not a thing… see no new ideas in this life time… waiting for the update I guess…

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It's Going to Be A Second… Broken Thoughts…

Took long enough to come to this conclusion
Moments in time spent finding peace in chaos
Nothing was ever going to be enough
Carrying the answers with me all along
Going back to the beginning
To figure out where I am
A slow march to death
Pick a path and see where it ends
Ignoring sign after sign
What if any is the meaning of words
If you don’t know what they should mean
Rambling in the dark, rambling to myself
Believing was always going to be
The thing that brought me back here again

Addicted to what I’ve been told and not what I know…

Suffocating under the weight of everything
The natural progress of
Hating myself from within
Digging my way out of an endless grave
Piece by piece, brick by brick
Been building the tomb I’ve always envisioned
A monument to pass onto the next generation
So they can do everything that’s already been done

“Maybe because sometimes someone wrote every sad song that they could.”

Pumping poison through the vein
A constant heart beat
That defines me
The difference between living and dead
Carry my thoughts with me
Every where I go seems to be no where at all
If there’s a constant here
Could someone please point it out
Never polite to point
Even while staring into a mirror
Blame everyone I see
Staring back at me through the shadows
That define me

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Two Stories… Two Poems… and A Whole Lot of Thoughts….

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That Was No Easy Task… Broken Thought…

Broken dreams laid out in a conscious stream
You can see them but did you ever really need them?
A question to haunt the brain
A question to question everything
What is it that is so damn important?
Risking to waste away
What’s worth so much
To sacrifice your soul
The answer hangs some where in the air
Like the feeling between lightning and thunder
Doesn’t matter, know it has to happen, right?
Waiting out the apocalypse
A lifetime thinking, knowing it has to come
Been told so many times to hold on
The end of life and the beginning of another
Ignorance truly is bliss
Not knowing is worth so much more
Than knowing anything at all
She said, the Lord preached, life handed
Nothing at all
Is what it was and was what it is
A long day strung out into a lifetime
Day to day existence was all there was
Ever meant to be
Fighting the ocean will only get you wet
Drag you under the weight of it all
Ignorance has to be bliss
There is no other answer that makes any sense
Screaming into the vast canyon
Screaming until there are no more words
Throat cracked and bleeding
No answer, no sound has ever come back to me
Standing here wasting time
Trying to figure out what I’m doing
Nothing at all

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King Of This God Damn City… Broken Thoughts…

Rolling thunder and a heart break
Bracing for impact and the after math
Shattered glass to the face
Blood so thick
There’s no way anyone could survive
Dug deep into the ground
A six foot ditch I’d call home
There’s no way anyone could mistake
What I’ve come here to do
Shattered sense of self
Took what was mine and left myself behind
A road with no happy ending
Stop sign at the corner of heaven and hell
Watching the storm roll in

Everybody is looking for you…

Long list of reasons to keep pushing
Through the darkness I can see the light
Everything laid out in front of me
The history of the world built on the backs
Of everyone who has ever lived
Another step on the path called future
Acting out, living my role in a long chain
Of fucking useless existence

Bleeding out consciousness… Forever stuck with these broken feelings…

Do you remember what you said to me
Do you remember
Because I don’t
The words slip through my mind
Since the day, the day I learned what it meant to die
Do you remember what it was like before
Do you remember
Because I don’t
My life slips by day after day
Since the time, the time before I learned
The difference between death and forgiveness
Do you remember what any of this meant
Do you remember
The thoughts slip on by
Since the day, the day before
The day before I learned
What it means to burn
What it means to drown
What it meant to actually suffer
Do you remember because I don’t

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

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Chewing On Glass Presents… All I Feel Is Pain…

All I Feel is Pain

    Memories are nothing more than random bits of information processed at varies speeds. This is how I remember my childhood. It comes back to me in pieces as my head slams back into the ground. Lift and repeat. Lather, rinse, and dry. Blood runs throughout your body providing oxygen and nutrients to every cell. When blood gets into your eyes it provides nothing at all. Nothing more than pain. How does someone end up reliving all their horrible childhood memories on the cold pavement? I’m not really all that sure anymore.

    Where did I go wrong? Politian’s, health-conscious assholes, leftist fascists would say it was when I smoked my first cigarette. Signed a one-way ticket to hell by today’s standards. God would I kill for one right now. Just to feel the smoke hit the back of my throat and shoot down into my lungs would make all of this a little bit more bearable. I wonder what heroin would be like in this scenario. I wonder what food will taste like as my teeth fall to the ground. Will anything ever taste the same again or will it always taste like blood? I don’t think the iron, rust like taste will never leave my mouth. I always speak my mind maybe that’s how I ended up here. The more my head hits the ground the more I forget. In the end all we have is our memories. The good ones and the bad ones. Our memories are all we have. For some reason, the only memory that keeps popping up is the time I learned to tie my shoes. Maybe because when all is said and down here. I’ll never be able to do that again. Funny how after all of this something so significant won’t even matter. Too defiant anyways. Never really learned to tie my shoes. Found a way, but not the way I was taught. The memory still comes breaking through.

My stepmother left me in a chair all day with the same story that I could get up if I tied them the dumbass way she showed me. With the bunny ears or something. The instructions are still lost on me, but the torture is clear. “If you tie your shoes we can go to the beach.” I used to love the beach. I used to love a lot of things. Too bad we were in the middle of fuck all Indiana where there is no such thing. She paraded around in a bathing suit and beach bag as if we would leave as soon as I miracle my shoes laces together. What kind of sick fuck does that to a child? The company you keep I guess. Too defiant maybe that is how I ended up where I am. Too strong-willed and stubborn to tie my shoes. To listen to anyone else.

My head hurts so much that my face has gone numb. I’ve been trying to pick myself up, but my head feels as though it weighs too much. Leaning into the punches is not helping any. I say lean but it is more of a sway. Confused by what it is I am even doing.  I’ve got nothing left. Everything I had was all used up before I even got here. A teacher once told me that you come into this world with nothing and you leave it with nothing. I can see her old wrinkled out face mouthing the words, but the world has gone silent. Gone away into the distance that is my existence. She was full of shit. You come into this world screaming and you leave it with pain. The constant that doesn’t let you forget. Can’t change much when your life flashes.

Can’t change much when you know you are going to die. Can’t take away the things that you have done. Can’t forget the time that you pissed on the street corner as the neighbor’s daughter watched. Can’t take back the punishment. The belt that struck over and over again. Not even the truth can set you free after it is all said and done. That she wanted you too. No, you are only left with the memories of a childhood you wish you could forget. Can’t change the time you climbed a tree you were told not to climb. Ended up in the hospital for not listening on that one. Should have stayed in the tree. Why didn’t I just stay in the tree? Can’t change the time you got a girl pregnant and waited in the abortion clinic waiting room. Scarred out of your mind, sad for the life you wasted, and too young to realize they are one in the same. No, none of that will ever change. Time can’t change after it is already past. Time can’t change after you’re dead. Your impressions, actions stay with those you’ve affected long after your gone. Actions speak louder than words yet the words of those around you in circle your every thought.

Don’t do this, do that, why do you got to be such a little shit, clean up your room already, have you been drinking, this is for your own good, tell me what happened, happy birthday, please take the dog out, win some and you lose some, thou shall not kill, I hate you, why couldn’t you have been better, clean your face, you disgust me, this is what you deserve, I love you. Some good and some bad they all flood in as if they should mean something, but they don’t. Is now really the time to reflect on all of this? Maybe I just wanted freedom. Maybe it was only love. Maybe it was both. I don’t know what anyone could ever want out of a world like this.

For some reason, they have stopped. Could be because I’ve stopped fighting? Maybe because they know it is already done? I can feel a smile come across my face as the hits start back up. Their anger in this world somehow more intense than my own. I want to laugh, but do I dare? I can still feel as though that all of this is some kind of prize at the end of a long game. The words aren’t clear in my head anymore. Here and gone. Trapped and freed. I feel cold yet warm. But all I really feel is pain.

Broken Thoughts Vol 1: Between Me and You
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Chewing On Glass Presents… Keep It To Yourself…

“I tried to quit smoking recently and it didn’t go well. Go well is a bit of an understatement really. In the aftermath though I realized a few things about myself. Turns out I wasn’t addicted to smoking or some oral fixation, which sounds like I will suck on anything pointed at my face by the way. No, the reason I can’t stop inhaling dried leaves laced with additives and chemicals is because I am addicted to a much darker thought. I am addicted to the thought of death. Even if it is a slow drawn out death. One filled with hacking and an overall weathering of my body as I watch myself slowly extinguish like the very thing I love. I am fixated on the thought of death to just stop myself from killing myself. Does that make sense? In some ways we are self-destructive.  That isn’t a new idea in this world. Some of us shoot shit into our veins. Others barrel down the road in hopes that a child doesn’t pop up in a school zone. I put something to my lips and take a deep breath. We as humans are addicted to destroying ourselves. On purpose or by circumstance we can’t give it up. I can’t think of one thing that I do that isn’t killing me in some way. Which may be a good reason to give up one that I know will, but why? What’s really in it for me? Life always ends in the same whether we want it to or not. Right or wrong all we have in life is faith that we are doing what is best for ourselves even if it is not. Our judgements and our thoughts are ours, but sometimes there is no need to express every last one. The mind is a terrible thing to waste and sometimes hearing a piece of it can be too much to handle. Opinions maybe like assholes and everyone’s got one, but it doesn’t mean we want to hear them,” I spill out. “Yes, these are all valuable points Layne, but what were you thinking about at the time?” The lady with the clip board asks me. “I prefer Ambrose,” I inform her. “My apologies Ambrose, but please answer the question,” she says in a way that lets me know that she doesn’t care. This is another job. Another moron she has to deal with. “Those were my exact thoughts give or take a few on the spot additions. I tend to fixate on an idea and kind of “black out” or chew on that idea for a while. Well until something else pisses me off or annoys me. Then I switch to that one,” I ramble on. She give me a look that I have seen before. Everyone gives me that look whenever I try to explain myself.  Same look just before they roll their eyes.

“Those were your exact thoughts when you were,” she pauses to flip through some papers on her clipboard. “Ah yes, here we are,” she finally says before turning the clipboard towards me. She shows me a picture of the aftermath of my actions. I try to not look at the picture, but when it is basically shoved in your face it is hard to look away. “Those were your thoughts when you did this?” She asks again. I fidget against the restraints they have me in, “I mean give or take. Yeah that is what I was thinking about.” She turn the clipboard back to herself and flips back to where she left off.  “How does it make you feel doing what you did to that innocent lady?” she asks me. “Well it doesn’t make me feel good, but let’s not throw around the word innocent so loosely. I mean if you would have heard what she had to say and the way she was saying it. My actions might almost seem justified. I mean in the right circle,” I try to joke. “Justified? This isn’t a joke Mr. Ambrose. I’d hardly call decapitating a defenseless woman in front of her children justified because she was simply informing you about the harm you were doing to yourself,” she says all butt hurt. “Words, words, words it is all about how you say them. That’s the thing about perception. I’ll tell you one thing. Those children learned a valuable lesson that day,” I say in a less playful tone. “What possible lesson could those poor children have learned from you that day?” She asks with fire burning in her eyes. “Besides the obvious? Those kids learned that sticks and stone will hurt them, but words will surely kill me,” I let off a dark sinister laugh.

Horrified the doctor gets up from her chair. “You are sick Layne Ambrose,” the doctor tries to say over all of my laughing. “You haven’t been paying attention,” I say in a low tone between all the laughing. She stares at me. Puzzled as I leap at her from across the coffee table. Dislocating my thumb before I leaped at her I knock her to the floor. I sit on top of her as she tries to fight me off. She isn’t strong enough to get me off of her. I pop my arm thumb back into socket and grab the pen the lays next to us. “Help,” she screams. “Help me,” she struggles to say as I put my hand on her throat. “Someone,” she fights to say as I stab the pen into her neck over and over again. She slowly stops fighting me, but I can see the life still left in her eyes. I release my hand from her throat as more blood rushes from her wound. A large hole in the side of her neck. “You think I am sick?” I ask her. “You think? Maybe the next one will be smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves,” I get up off of her and head back towards my chair. “I think we are going to need some help in here,” I shout as loud as I can. “This one seems to be leaking.”

So if you remember last year I tried to do this whole insane asylum story arc?… When There Is No More Room….  This story was actually an out take of that story… well it was supposed to be the catalyst to the doctor character getting the big job… very early on idea… because eventually I decided to make that whole story pretty much take place in the past… so me being a live in the 50’s is a bit of stretch… so why am I in the story?… that seems weird… and it is… but it also isn’t… even before No More Room

So.. so.. long ago… in another galaxy…  I had this other idea for a novel… I still might do it… but even after all these years I still haven’t come up with a way to not make me seem like a self-centered asshole… which I am but it doesn’t have to be so obvious… the idea any way was to create a vast network of short stories that all involved me in some way… so this one… another that takes place in outer space… where one of the characters drops a line like… “Have you heard about what’s going on down there?  Have you heard about Layne Ambrose?”… all different genres… all different stories… all involving me…

Yeah… let that soak in… it is a dumb ass idea… but early on… it seemed like the coolest idea ever… whenever you start something new… ideas seem easy to come by… not good ideas… or even great ones… those take years… and that is what I learned in all the years that I have been writing… this was a one off story I wanted to share… give you a taste of what could have been… and will most likely never be… you didn’t ask for it… but you are more than welcome….

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