Chewing On Glass Presents… Classes Start… (A Lie)

Classes Start

It’s ten a.m. and I’m nearly a hundred percent certain that I am in the wrong class room, but I have no plans of leaving. The teacher, a young woman who is probably a few years older than me with rather large breasts, passes out the syllabus to the class. A two to three page document detailing everything we are supposed to go over in the course of the semester. Fucking gag me, the syllabus is more or less an excuse to mow down a few more acres of trees in South America. Considering our teachers will flood our emails with the same shit anyway. I’m sitting in the far corner of the room, far away from everyone else. The teacher goes into a speech about showing up late, her breasts bouncing with each word. Is she even wearing a bra? I find myself more entertained with her bust line than trying to figure out where I even am. Her words bleed together and I can’t tell if it is me or her who is not making sense of the words. It takes a moment but I finally look down at the syllabus to figure where I am. The paper says that I am in public speaking and I can start to feel the blood drain from my face. Things only get worse when I start to realize that each student is standing up and telling everyone in the class their name and a little bit about themselves and why they are in college. Most of the students here are going for degrees in criminal justice or something as stupid as that. I can feel my heart rate go up and I begin to wonder if anyone else can hear the pounding of my heart like I can. It sounds like an Edgar Allen Poe story in here. Am I fucking dying or am I losing my mind? I hate speaking in front of a single person and speaking in front of all thirty people in the class is making me feel like I am having a heart attack. I can feel the sweat bead up at the top of my head and drip down my face. I was not prepared for this nor would I ever sign up for this. I calm my shaking hand long enough to grab my backpack and slowly make my way to the exit in a near crawl. How this isn’t any worse than just standing up and saying my name is beyond me. The latest victim stops speaking as the teacher asks me where I am going. I stand up from my crouched position and give her a blank stare before running out of the room.

My heart is racing a mile a minute as I wander the halls for what seems like days. Everything feels as though it is in slow motion but I keep trekking on. Wandering the halls isn’t an unusual thing for me. I do it a lot. Despite the fact that I hate this school I just can’t seem to leave. I’m never in class, but I’m never not at the school on school days. As confusing as that sounds I think it is because I feel guilty for not attending classes and it also has to do with the fact that I can’t afford to put more gas in my car. So, I might as well stay here and make the best of it. It doesn’t hurt that my drug dealer takes a lot of classes here as well. He says it helps him expand his mind. “Always got to be smart for the streets man, always.” When really he is just going to the school to expand his business, which has worked out pretty well for him in my opinion. It is here in a class for retards that I first met him. The class in question was a basic English course that all students have to take if they didn’t score a certain amount of points on the assessment test to get into this prestigious college. It can’t be over stated that I never wanted to go here so, the idea of even trying wasn’t an option when I took the test. I just breezed through the test selecting any answer without reading the question. I was hoping that maybe they would deny me, but nope they accepted me with cash symbols in their eyes since my whole first term wasn’t worth a single credit. I decided today that I will walk around the campus. No use going through another embarrassing first day. The first day doesn’t count anyway. I stop by the bathroom on the first floor before heading outside in the cold. The ground looks much more interesting when I’m high on drugs. The school uses a special kind of salt that is blue-green in color and it does a really good job of clearing off the sidewalks. In the center of campus there is a pond that has long been frozen over. I walk across the wooden bridge that goes across the narrow part of the pond connecting one side of the campus to the other side. In the summer this is where I like to stand, but in the winter the wind comes across the pond and hits me like a cold hard slap to the face. I’m starting to really feel the trip as I walk past the library and head for the main building. I’m making my way to the cafeteria to purchase the overly priced food I really can’t afford and steal one of the overly priced energy drinks. I usually don’t steal things, but I’m not paying three fucking dollars for something I could get for a lot less someplace else. Plus, what’s the worst they could do to me? Kick me out of school?

I walk into the cafeteria from the side door of the building. This door is on the opposite side of the student union, a place I try to avoid at all costs. I can’t stand this school and I can’t stand the students that go here even more. Most of them are so pretentious it makes me sick. Half the time I get trapped in some stupid conversation with one of them, and all I want to do is scream, “Look the fuck around.” They all like to live in some fantasy world that they are learning or attending some place that is giving them a higher education and we are not. I get nauseous thinking of the conversations I could get trapped into, but it is probably only the lack of food.  The cafeteria is nearly empty, there must still be classes going on. I walk up to the cooler and pretend to get a drink, but really I just slip one of the energy drinks on the lower shelf into my jacket pocket. No idea what I grabbed but it is that simple, and free and simple is the name of the game. Today’s menu is beef stroganoff prepared by the master chefs the school hires. The smell from the food is close to that of a bowel movement. I never get the prepared meal so, I decide on a cheeseburger that I am pretty sure is made of ten percent rubber. This is more of an impulse buy than a decision after the glorified lunch lady asks me if I was going to get anything or just sit there staring at the food. Don’t get me wrong I like being high but it has its negative effects too, such as time and how much of it is not perceived by my mind. After dropping three dollars and fifty cents on a cheese burger even the shittiest fast food place would sell, I head back outside and walk to the Art and Science building to eat.

Once inside I pound the energy drink down as fast as I can, hoping that the shit tasting cocktail and the drugs will keep me awake long enough to get through the next class. If I decide to even go to that one. My eyes feel like anvils as I eat the only food I will probably have today. A nasty side effect of the drugs is that I don’t eat and in the last couple of months I have lost over twenty pounds. I have always been a little bit heavy set so losing twenty or more pounds really isn’t as drastic as it sounds. Since I can’t afford new clothes no one has really noticed either way, but for once in my life I’m starting to think that I look better than ever. Maybe I will get my own commercial on TV from all the weight I’m losing like that fat fuck did from that restaurant chain or those fat bitches from the eighties. Then again I will probably die and everyone will forget about me. Good lunch, now I’m all set for more drugs. It is best to not have a full stomach or an empty one, this rule stands more tested before bed as the odds of dying in your sleep on your own vomit increase with such activity. I randomly use nearly every bathroom on campus on any given day, I even used the women’s room in the main building once because the men’s was to full. I use the bathroom on the second floor before checking to see what my next class is. Despite my best efforts I am ten minutes late for class, but it is the first day so no one notices. I take my usual place in the back of the room. The teacher, this time a man, passes out the same piece of paper I’m pretty sure I already have detailing what we will be doing in class this semester. It takes me a minute to actually realize that I have in fact seen this paper because I have already taken this class. Maybe it will be easier the second time around, who gives a fuck. I’m starting to feel even more tired now that I know it doesn’t matter.

My drug abuse doesn’t allow me to sleep as often as I would like. My depression and my drugs have very different ideas on the topic, but when I do sleep I dream of many things. I dream that I am a woman in a minivan and I’m emptying a shopping bag onto the passenger seat so, I can place it over the head of one of the crying children behind me. I scream things as I hold it there. The words don’t make sense but given the context what would it really matter any way. I dream that I am chasing a school bus in a place that I once lived. The sky is blood red and all I can hear, all I can see are the children laughing before vomiting gallons of blood out the window of the moving bus. The blood washes over me as I run with everything I have. I never reach the bus and it never stops. Wave after wave until finally I give up. I dream of her, touching her, feeling her, fucking her. I roll over after coming and fall off the bed into nothing. I can’t move as I fall and I try to reach for the bed that has long since disappeared in to the darkness. I just keep falling and falling with no end. Farther and farther, and I never stop falling, never stop feeling confused until I wake up. I dream in blood and I dream in liquids. I dream so many things that sometimes it is hard to figure out what has been a dream and what has been reality. I often wake up confused to where I am or if I am even alive anymore. I imagine myself standing in the middle of Times Square with a gun to my head screaming, begging for someone to help, but no one stops to help me. I imagine that I pull the trigger and I can feel the bullet digging into my skull in slow motion so, I can feel every bit of pain as it rips through my head and exits the other side. I snap out of my state and realize that I am now sitting in an empty class room. I wonder if I am awake or am I still dreaming. There is a note that sits in front of me. It is from my teacher, “Maybe next time you can try to make it more than ten minutes before falling asleep.”

I stop by the bathroom one more time before going outside to smoke. I decide to blow the rest of the day off and return to my tomb. I get into my car and I sit there. I can still feel the bullet hole in my head. It is twenty degrees outside, but I don’t turn on the car. I don’t do anything. I just sit there. I sit in my car until I can no longer feel my toes from the cold. I sit there and I feel nothing. I sit here and think of nothing. I take another hit and begin my trip back home.

 

Walking my way down memory lane… Classes Start is one of many stories found in… A Lie… A rather tame story from A Lie… but a story none the less… If you’d like to read more… It is available on Kindle and Paperback format…

A Lie is pretty different from anything that you will find on the website… Less broken then?… unsure… not sure I was ever fixed… A Lie is interesting in that it is a fiction story filled with a lot of truth… I have been thinking a lot about it as I work on my next novel… Mostly all the things that I have learned over the years… reminiscing on the struggle to get it done… to not give up… I guess things don’t ever really change… Well… I should probably just get back to it… Check out A Lie… if you want to learn more about young Ambrose…

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Bright Blue And Shimmering…

What do you say with a million lives to say it? What do you do with a million days to do it? An endless array of endlessness that accumulates into a pool of endless ocean. A fully powered and operational confusion ray shown across a thousand skies would still not explain all the confusion I feel inside. The isolation of all the knowledge that needs to be said greatly increases the feelings closing in on me. The pages have become displayed on the walls. Three layers thick and making no sense at all. The words bleed together like poetry at first. But after long consideration the words mean nothing at all. Turn the page. Start again. See what comes out and in the end find no solace at all. What is the meaning of this madness? What is a lifetime spelled out in words?

I pace the room once again. Careful to not knock over the stacks. The pages that could not fit on the wall without nails. Hammer and blood. Zig zagging through future trash. The trash that riddles my mind. Have I said all that I mean or mean what I’ve said at all? The words trickle out like a stream that will one day be a waterfall. A tiny hole in my head that won’t stop leaking. The thought becomes dizzying.  Dazed and consumed by all the words. I bump one of the stacks. It cascades threw out the room like a great wave of the coast of some mystical land. It blends and bends its will to all the other stacks piled up across the land. I stand in a sea of words, an ocean of thought. Even as I stare at each one. Remembering each pen stroke for what it was once worth. I can think of no meaning. No cause to add to this madness I have chosen to live.

Stare at each word. Each letter spelling out syllables and sounds. Meaning escapes me along the thoughts. Every passing moment descends further into nothing at all. The depths from under my skin. Flesh and blood. Meat without a taste. I can hear words as they echo out of the screams. Words played against a black screen. Images played to the silence of it all. A hollow sound that repeats. Blood drops, drops from somewhere though I am unsure where. A stream of red. A clue left behind? A whooshing sound blocks out the silence of thought. The blood pumps harder and faster within my head. Drip, drip. I can’t hear the noise. I can only feel it as I follow the trail. In circles I spin. Brushing up against the scattered pages of my mind. My bare legs chewed up amongst the pages. My blood bring new life to the words. Washing away letter for letter. Ideas for idea. Lost to the soul and pouring out of my head. A war fought bloody and hard. I continue to circle around the words like a vulture circles a dead carcass. I will find an answer to all this madness.

I haven’t showered in days. The new words keep pouring out all around me. The body riddled with sharp pains. I fear that I have become sick amongst the stacks. To quit now would mean that I should have never started at all. I’ve long since run out of paper. Resorting on writing scraps and bits of blood soaked left overs. I have lost track of where this is all going, but did I ever know? Follow the words. Follow the thoughts. Ideas set us free. Ideas separate the man from the beast. It is all here. Word for word. On display for any one with the time.

“A lost generation hoping for something to happen with the littlest effort at all. We all want to be millionaires, but no one has the heart to tell us that it won’t happen. No one has the heart to tell us shit.” Words cut out of my very chest. A pound of flesh I once called a heart. “They are all too scared, too afraid we’ll go shooting up the place. Our fragile minds can’t take the simplest of heart breaks. They fear that our trigger happy, unsympathetic, systematic minds with snap, and they are right for all the wrong reasons.” Man before the beast. Beast before the man. The call for blood of the innocent. The lives of a thousand sons and daughters. Is this not the calling of man? “Fear is nothing more than power. Fear is a manipulative tool used to take over the mind. They us the fear of it all to keep control. Governments, kingdoms, religion, and lies use the same tactics. Fear of the fear to keep control. Place in time. Fear equals control and control is fear. An impasse of conflicted ideas that have worked all too well.” Fitting in as the skin covers my mouth. Embraced by the society that birthed me. “A stabbed out swollen eye of infected corneas lathered so thick with bullshit that all we see is darkness. What about what is next? What happens in the end if no one stands up to the fleeting masses? The controls left in the hands of children. Evolution dictates that a change will cause adaptation to the original species. A rift will develop, slowly filling up with the lost illusion we once held.” Truth written in blood and disguised by lies of the mind. How could they ever lose control? More like them hidden amongst us like weeds that grow from the shit stuck in our eyes. “A river of deceit with a sediment so rich lies will grow like wild flowers amongst what is left of the masses. One could only hope. Giant man powered robots will reign supreme amongst the rubble of civilization. One great civilization shall rise from the ashes of our mistakes and in the end all the right will be wronged and all wrongs shall be righted.” A prophecy fore told in the shadows of the moon light on scrapped bits of paper. Cover the light with words and turn it off.

This is actually two ideas mashed together… a bit of a long post so I will keep it short… Nothing like a bit of madness to get your day started… Originally this was supposed to be used for a much bigger project about a writer losing his mind to the words… I got four pages deep when I realized no one wants to read about exactly what they are going through… So I chose all the best lines from that failed project… and tried my best to make sense out of it… or no sense at all… I just breathe the words… I don’t have to live them… and yet in some ways I do…

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Chewing On Glass Presents… My Return…

In some ways, it feels as if a part of me is missing and in other ways, I feel exactly the same. I hate being apart from her for whatever the reason. The long nights traveling for my job is when I feel it the most. Being on the road is like going through hell and then some. The restless nights lying in a bed of someone else’s filth. They say the beds are clean or at least the card on the pillow states, but are they ever really clean? How does one actually clean up the semen and the sweat that soaks up into the mattress? Sure your nicer establishments have some sort of protection. A mattress condom if you will but the cheaper places? The places I have to stay because my boss cares more about the bottom line than the comfort of the poor bastard who makes that line exist, those places are brimming with semen, sweat, and who knows what else. I find myself sleeping on the floor most nights on the road. Not that the floors in these skank motels are any cleaner, but I’m less likely to sleep in somebody’s fluids.

As I lie on this particular floor I wonder what she is thinking about in our nice comfortable bed. I wonder if she thinks of me or quite simply nothing at all. Another conference in the morning. Another meet and greet with unknown clients. Does well for business though I can’t say the same for my soul. I could say it would be good for me if I was the owner. If I reaped anything from any and all this stress. Anything more than a paycheck. Life seems to be only ever about such worthless things.  I wonder if I leave tomorrow night or the following morning. Something I should check, but I’m too lazy to get up off the floor. Either way, it is just one more shitty flight to an even shitter place. When you are young you want to travel, to see the world, but as you get older and then a little bit more that sense of adventure seems to slip right out of your mind. Now all I want is a chance to make up for all those lost years of traveling, of being apart. Those long night without me by her side.

It pains me to think about it. It pains me every time that I see her she has changed a little bit more. Her skin and her hair seem to change each and every time I return. I wonder when the changes will stop. Will they ever? I thought I could stop them, but it turns out no one can. Nothing stays perfect forever.  The longer I am gone the farther we grow apart from each other. Disconnected I miss her and I miss her more whenever we are together. Where did those years before go? Did I not live them? Or have I been living in this traveling coma for so long that I simply don’t remember the past at all? One thing I do know, will always know is that she is still waiting for me. I made sure of that at least didn’t I? Back home she waits for my arrival and I’m sure my departure. To her, I’m sure she sees this time as never going or never there. To her, I’m sure that when this trip is over it will all be too late. That is what she said to me last. The words that haunt us. The words that changed everything. She doesn’t say much anymore. Lays in silence mostly. Silently waiting for my return.

Welcome back… this story seemed fitting for the occasion… this story is actually really old… I’m talking over ten years old… I’m not sure of the year I wrote it… but I remember the time period… and even though it is super sinister it was written from a place of love… odd I know until you remember it is me we are dealing with… then it makes sense…

It has been awhile since I have returned myself… hopefully all is well… the world has been changing for a while now… I wonder how much of it is really different by now?… stay healthy… stay safe… because there is always someone waiting for your return…

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Waiting For You To Realize… What I Mean To You…

Bleed Out

Forcing myself to die
Tearing out my eyes
Want to tear everything down
Forget that I ever existed
At all
Unhappy with the path I’ve craved
A hole in my heart I can not fill
Your words are worthless
Ready to go home
So obsessed with the thought
That all of this is pointless
Forcing myself to die
Tearing out my heart
Want to tear out every part
Forget that I ever existed
Turns out, none of this was fun
After all
Unhappy with the life I’ve created
A hole in my heart I can not fix
My thoughts are worthless
Ready to get going
So obsessed with the thought
Bags been packed for a while
Forcing myself to live
Tearing up at the thought
These faults are my own
Forget that I ever existed
At all
So I can move on
Letting the hole in my heart
Bleed out
Words I thought I could lose
Burned into my skin
I love you now like I loved you then

Living In Time

Thinking about the future
Dwelling on the past
What to do when the scars don’t heal
Open, bleeding wound
Close my eyes and hope
Nothing ever comes
Time heals all wounds
Truth is, the best we can hope for
Is that time will stop the bleeding
Your lies a thorn in my spine
Walk, pretend everything is fine
Following the path of least resistance
Resisting the urge to end it all
What’s starting over
If the most that you hoped for
Lead me here
This has all been a waste of time
Everyone tells me I’m fine
This is normal, give it time
A splintered lie digging in my spine
I don’t care, lets say I did
Thinking about the future
Dwelling on the past
Close my eyes and maybe I’ll die

This could go on for a while… I mean a long while… I have pages and pages of how I feel… how I’ve felt… how I’m feeling… as of late… to be honest… I think I have only hit the tip of the iceberg… so bare with me… this glass is sharper than I thought…

In other news… I am going to start working on a big project… so look out for that… on top of… sad poems about killing myself… : ) Always a good time… here at Chewing On Glass…

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Watching The World Go By… In Ever Passing Moments…

The Plan

Feelings disappear into the light
Faded but always there
Moments in time seems to last forever
Seconds of thought, a lifetime of regret
Decisions made that can’t be undone
Another day in the life of someone else
Too afraid to take a step
Backwards or forwards there is nothing left
Feelings reappearing every night
Haunting me from the shadows
Crosses burning, signaling a fight
A struggle so unreal that it has to be real life
A thought that doesn’t cross empty minds
Time has a way or remaining all the same
People don’t change only the time and place
Lost in a cycle that can’t possibly end
Given up only to just begin
Suffering was always the ultimate plan

 

Mapping out how I would feel
Planning every occurrence that makes this unreal
A desperation so pure
A rotting life left with no cure

 

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Short post today… I’m not feeling today at all… which is an odd way to say that I am feeling too much… too many thoughts to make any sense… ever passing moment… there is a war inside my head… a battle to keep going on… versus a force that says lay down and die… dig a hole and crawl in… ever passing moment… self-destruction was never my thing… only a dream… locked inside my head… “Want to destroy something beautiful”… what is it that I want to destroy?… when I’m so ugly… scared… broken… the surface still… calm… chaos hidden from view… tearing my throat out… won’t shut up… tearing my soul to pieces… can’t give up… some part of me… still in here… in some way… waiting out the storm… ever passing moment… I’m only trying to live… 

 

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“This chicken is really spicy!!!”… My daughter… made me smile when I wanted to cry… all I added was a hint of pepper… little things that make no sense… change of mood… love her… even if I don’t love myself… comforting to know I love at all… 

Chewing On Glass… Year 2… Burning Down The House…

“Burning down the house while listening to Purple Rain. I set that mother fucker ablaze. An end to an era. An end to everything. We speak in broken records. Broken words that never make any sense. We drown our sorrows in pain. Choking on a glass of suffering. It all came to me once I understood the meaning of everything. Chewing on glass may never be the same. Screaming our please and thank yous. Were we ever normal to begin with? A life time in the making. A life time left to go. Where things go from here. Only the Devil and I know. “

“So, basically you are just going to ramp up the crazy from here on out?” She asks.

“Yeah, pretty much,” I say with a twisted smile.

 

I know what I am saying is ignorant
World’s based on ignorant themes
Fitting in was never easy
Taking the step off the bus into the darkness
Early morning thoughts only keep me mourning
Everything around me
Society or a group of assholes?

 

Sifting through the cold ashes of everything I know
Watching it all burn was a freedom you can’t control

 

Carving your name into bone
Don’t want to forget what I’m searching for
Really I just want to go home
So sick of only seeing your voice
Hearing your smile
Been so long since I found out
What it means to be ripped inside out

 

How do you do this?
Look to you for strength
As I stare into the abyss
That is my obsession and wonder
How do you do this to yourself?
For everyone else?
Wondering how I could be you
The strongest person I know
Weak and insecure
Kill myself if it wasn’t for you
Destroy everything 
If I didn’t think I could be you
How weak can I be
To dream of being someone who isn’t me
My love turns to admiration
One day I will become
Everything you’ve ever loved
Defining definition of everything
That has become my mission
(For My Mother)

 

“That is the best thing you haven’t said all day.”
Abigail Zaveri, The Reason Of All Things

 

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Been sitting on a lot of this for a while… felt good to get it off my chest… well out of my head… free up some space for other things… I should make a new logo for this year… I always come up with all of these ideas at the last second… this is why I need an editor… or an agent to point me in the right direction… 

My new obsession lately is building bird houses out of scrap wood… wire… and other random things that I find… when I finish the one I am working on… I will post pictures…

There is still time to get in any questions you may have… tonight or early next morning… still unsure how time works in the world… is the dead line… hopefully there will be enough or it is going to get really weird up in here… not really much of a threat… might happen anyway… one can hope… 

 

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Broken Thoughts… Best Part Of The Day…

So stupid and simple
Seems pointless to even mention
I wanted all of this, no, needed maybe
The cuts they sting and the skin itches
Who am I without the pain
Don’t think I will ever know 
Ever understand
Until the end
So simple and sad
To think that this was all there ever was

 

A girl already knows it
How much more of this I can take
Broken down and left for dead
A woman already knows
How much more of this I can take
Plotting and planning the revenge

 

Dark and lonely is the night
Keeping time with the halogen lights in the sky
No sleep for three more days
Lost my mind, did it to myself
Hearing voices in the night
Scarring myself against the light
Broken bones and burned out lungs
They call me to come closer
Hidden in the darkness
The chanting never seems to go away
What is it that I have become
A monster, a singular being of existence
Tell myself all will be okay
But what is it that I’ve known all along
Digging deeper, their voices become silent
Eventually they all leave me
Leave me alone to deal with myself

 

Breaking my spirit for nothing to gain
How it must feel to be like you
Where does one go to become like you
Dragging my feet through hell
Because I have nothing else to do
Savoring every moment of this drawn out death
Blacken lung you’ve taken out all the fun
Breaking the chain that binds me to you
One long umbilical cord straight to the heart
Taken enough abuse to last a lifetime in this place

 

Turns Out

The ground gives out, words become worthless
Turns out flat earth people were right
The sky opens up, a hand reaches down
Turns out God isn’t a lie after all
A visual landscape of hell, everything thought was worthless
Turns out the devil was me all along
Created madness with sin, where does one begin
Turns out a verbal history is about giving in
The seas will rise, fall beneath the cracks in the ground
Turns out global warming was a myth
The air gets thinner up here, standing at sea level
Turns out space was never the answer
A visual representation of nothing at all
Turns out the games we play were playing us all along
Living a lie has always had its purpose
Too bad the meaning was worthless
Nothing you have ever said has been right
Your actions steeping in Sin
Who are we to decide where this all begins
Turns out we never existed after all

 

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Broken Thoughts… Light Edition… Or At Least I Tried*

Breaking down the walls that surround your rules
On how things are supposed to be
Nothing is supposed to be anything
How things are, are not that way at all
Time has shown us nothing
Time keeps going whether right or wrong
The rules are not the rules at all

 

Falling apart at a low speed
Coming apart at the seams?
Don’t know any more what that means

 

Fight among the ones that should unite
It is what we wanted all along
I had a dream became something ain’t right
Became everything I never wanted to be
A hypocrite, liar, shattered
Search for the answers through the ruble
We think we understand but we have no idea at all
Trapped in a world that doesn’t forgive, only forgets
Stuck in a place without a thing to say
More said the more we are driven under
Step out of line and leave your place, left behind
The times they aren’t a changing
Only coming back again
A suffocating wave of everything we’ve ever said

 

Feel free to judge, I don’t mind
Do it all the time
Explaining my thoughts
So much easier with tears in my eyes
My anger it doesn’t subside
My feelings are taking me to my grave
Smile real big, it doesn’t hurt
Does it hurt, do I care
Keep doing it anyway
With the same fucking smile craved into my face
I hate myself but more than you
Ask me again, what was the fucking question
Breaking bones, breaking souls, breaking down
How much of this is really okay to take
Prescription running low
How much more do you really need to know

 

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Well I tried to make this light… seems all I have are heavy words… for a heavy soul… unpacking all my thoughts… takes some of the weight off… allows for more to slip in though… the dark thoughts that surround me… seep into my mind… a drug… I could never quite… and believe me I have tried… digging and scratching… screaming… “I have had enough”… nothing is ever enough…

Well that got dark real quick… haha… wasn’t even trying… Speaking of dark… something to check out would be the comic… Ice Cream Man… it is so weird and out there… I’m on issue 5… still very unsure what it is about… which has me hooked… the art is really amazing… I have two of the covers on the walls of my office… I wanted to put them all up… but I have too many comics up on my walls as it is… Some other dark and odd graphic novels to check out would be Gideon Falls and Plastic… okay… I’m done staring at my walls… what kind of stuff do you have on your walls?… 

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Thank you for all the support… 

Broken Thoughts

It’s been a minute…

Gave up more than I’m willing to admit
Pushed it away like it meant nothing
Lied to myself and wonder why I’m so fucked up
Liar, cheat, piece of shit
My anxiety starts right here with me
Gave away more of me then I’d like to admit
God can judge me and the devil can have me
Already knew I belonged to a worthless existence
Wish it wasn’t so easy to feel like this
Gave up so much already
How much more am I willing to give
After it is all said and done

 

Breaking up the moments of everyday life
The bitching becomes routine and only you know why

 

16 hours ago who knows where I was
But 16 hours from now I know exactly where I’ll be
Stuck here thinking about you again
Rotting brain but somehow it all seems okay
Even if the thoughts of murder, suicide, experimentation
Are deemed mildly insane
32 hours spent drowning you in your own blood
Was well worth the lack of sleep
Prison sentence, maybe not, maybe I never left
Always been locked inside my head
Sure it bothers you in some way
Completely normal
Doubt I’d ever do it, never know until you push
Not everything we think, we say
Can be normal in every way
(Completely edited and messed around with this one… more at the bottom..)

 

Picking up the pieces that are left of my life
I’m not sure how much of it can be put back in place
Spent too long thinking there was no end in sight
Neglected everything around me
My friends, my family, everything but myself
Selfishness, who I am, who I’ve always been
Excuses I tell myself to justify my actions
Unforgiving and out of touch
The pieces slip through my hands
Trail of blood, a trail of pain, a stream of consciousness
All the little fears I tell myself to get by
Smash my head into place

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As promised the unedited version of that Broken Thought… Not all things start out how they were originally written… (Bold parts are the changed or omitted parts)…

16 hours ago who knows where I was
But 16 hours from now I will know exactly where I am
Stuck here thinking about you again
Rotting brain but somehow it all seems okay
Even if the thoughts of murder, suicide, experimentation
Are deemed mildly insane
What can I say not everything we think about
Can be normal in every way
Alright I know it’s not okay but it feels right
32 hours spent drowning you in your own blood
Was well worth the lack of sleep
Prison sentence, maybe not, only one way to tell
Doubt I’ll do it, but never know until you push
Sure it bothers you in some way
Feel the same if it wasn’t so normal to me
To feel this way
What can I say not everything we say
Can be normal in every way

As you can see I cut a lot of fat… changed or condensed some lines or thoughts… I also wrote a few totally new lines as well… In some ways it changes the context of the thought… but only by a little… Often in these Broken Thoughts that happens… Mostly because some of these broken pieces of thoughts are years old… I have changed… a little not much… but enough that my thoughts have changed on the matter… 

Threadless… shirts… Amazon… books… Etsy… art… until next time… enjoy your day… 

It Just Keeps Coming At Me…

Signals in the Sky

The blood is so faint
It disappears with the rest of the stains
The cracks of the floor
Each grain nothing more than a track
I can feel it’s warmth
Even as I stare
Watch it as it goes
Drips through the floor
Drips down to disappear
The blood is so dark
As though it is made of something else
Comes together to form a paste
Before drying into stains
A second skin made from inside
The time it takes
Is time I do not have
The time it doesn’t wait
Fine I guess, I suppose
If you’re not me

 

A Long Ways from Home

Driving, driven to think about all of this shit
A mountain, a hole filled with everything to lose
If I could leave would I
If any of this really mattered would I walk or stay
Ideally my ideals don’t mean much to me
Deep rooted sense of entitlement
Think I’m so much better than I really am
The writer and the gun, running out of ammunition
Thoughts seem to go on and on without making any sense
Trading one problem for another, life is troublesome
Taking everything for granted with no enjoyment of the moment
Too many words describe my failures in this life
One life wasted on shit that keeps coming
Words of wisdom wasted on a dying mass
Good plague, the right change in the wind could really go a long ways

 

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I don’t have a whole hell of a lot to say today… shocking I know… so I’m just going to unload a bunch of random songs on you… no reason… As always… things can be found at ThreadlessAmazon… and now Etsy… Maybe I should organize my comics today… that sounds mildly exciting… anyway… here are some songs to fill up your head space… hope you enjoy…