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

Lights Dimming But The Soul Is Still Burning… Broken Thoughts…

Watched as they all took me
Took away everything
Starved for attention
So the lies spread
Jealousy and rage
Contempt for one’s self
Promised you nothing
Took all that was left
Digging a deeper hole
A ditch I find myself in
The hate I can let go
No way I’ll ever win

I’d kill myself if my body would stop resisting…

Breaking my heart for your own collection
What was I but a thing
Didn’t matter so you threw me away
Begging for something that isn’t good for me
Living to watch me die
Staying so you can watch it all unfold
An audience made of only two lives
What is this
If not love

With a brain on fire I am amazed I get anything done…

Taking the distance traveled
Thought we’d be so far from here
Digging into the earth
Like it is the end of everything
Going nowhere like it was somewhere
Given the years that have passed
Thought I’d be so far from here
Stuck in time growing old
Like it was in some way ever going to change
Going nowhere like there was anywhere to go
Spinning in circles because there was no other way
In circles because we could
Gravity taking over with nowhere to go
The science of everything has a point
Wish I knew what it was

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Something I just now noticed… even through the writing… editing… and reworking of everything this cycle… there is a whole hell of a lot of less fucks… no idea why that is… pretty odd for me… can’t say they would have helped in any of the stuff written so far… but it is odd none the less…

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Telling It Like It Is… Q&A…

That’s right it is time once again… to watch me drone on about nothing at all… get to know your favorite Broken Thoughts author… in three to four random questions… Shuffle the deck… let the Ungame begin…

Question 1: What Do You Want Be Doing In Ten Years?

Some sort of swash buckling adventurer… I think in a few years I want to turn this all around… become a pirate of the high seas… make Blackbeard look like nothing at all… there is a lake near by my house… Start there and conquer each one that I can get too… like a gang… but we only live on the water… also instead of selling drugs… killing people… or stealing things… we write books… talk about killing people… and distribute great ideas… really turn the whole idea of a pirate on it’s face… not sure I could get used to saying arrr… but I’m pretty good at adapting… I also suffer from motion sickness… but I think after ten years I could get used to that as well… haha… maybe in ten years I will only write stories about pirates… fuck it… why not?…

Question 2: Complete The Statement: “Words Can’t Describe How I Felt When…”

Words can’t describe how I felt when… I pulled this card…

Words can’t describe how I felt when… I took a shit in the middle of the street…

Words can’t describe how I felt when… I decided I no longer wanted to be a human but a cat…

Words can’t describe how I felt when… I took my first spoonful of maggots into my mouth just to see how it would taste… didn’t taste like you though…

Words can’t describe how I felt when… I discovered all the matted hair in my back yard… Am I werewolf… or do dogs just taste good?…

Words can’t describe how I felt when… I thought about all the things that I saw on that day… the bodies stacked high… towering walls of life set against the back drop of the sun… moaning and begging for it to end… the war was over before it even began… how could we take on something so deadly as this?.. How could we be expected to win against an evil as merciless as these monster?.. With no warning… with no signs… they came for us all…

Never give me a prompt…

Question 3: What Do You Like To Daydream About?

haha… of course I’d pull this one… that I could be someone other than myself… a king… a hit man… a lover… a survivor… a detective… a writer… but most of all… happy…

Question 4: If You Received $5,000 As A Gift- How Would You Spend It?

I feel like when this game came out $5,000 was a lot of money… if someone gave me that much money… I’d take a month off from work and write… spend the rest on a new laptop… or desktop… maybe get some of the props for videos that I want to shoot… get a nicer keyboard… research robotic implants that could help me fly… I really want to fly… basically I’d spend it all on this website and this dream…

Layne Ambrose

Keep the dream alive… taking donations in blood*… sweat*… and tears*… we prefer tears**… trying to stay young… vibrant… and beautiful after all… the spell book calls for any of the three… I am told we can also accept reviews… comments… and interest in any of the products linked below… but where is the fun in that?…

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*Amazon has no conversion chart for these forms of currencies at this time. Worth of such currencies are subject to change given supply and demand. Please filter all fluids before sending. Also allow two to three weeks for processing. Thank you for your patience. Is That A Funeral? Staff

** Please don’t farm your kids for tears… it seems tempting… but there are laws… I don’t want you to get in any sort of trouble… please collect tears responsibly… Layne Ambrose

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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Laid Out On The Black Top… Broken Thoughts…

Taking my time
Each step a lifetime
Was it worth the thought
To think anything would change
Taking my time
Trying to figure everything out
Missing steps as each day goes
How long is too long
Until we should let go
Taking my time
Each instance a lifetime
Was it worth the thought
To think these dreams meant anything

Stuck between where I am and where I don’t want to be…

Destroying everything was never difficult
Cutting out pieces of me
Ever God damn day
How much of me is even left
Repetition is key
Repetition is all I need
Replaying these thoughts in my head
Scream them enough in silence
They will become true
Enjoy the logic but the theory
Is too God damn much
For one soul to take
Dragging myself through each day
Swinging at an invisible enemy
Drowning myself with nothing to gain
Fucking hero and villain
No longer see the difference

Fuck… I miss drinking… but at least I don’t want to kill myself…

The words dig their way in
Fucking failure
Fucking useless
Fucking nothing
No one will ever be as cruel
As the voice in your head
The gashes were meant to free the words
Buried in my brain
Fucking pointless
Fucking stupid
Fucking selfish
No one will ever be as hateful
As the voice inside your head
The drugs were meant to free the words
Trapped in my head
Fucking lies
Fucking ideas
Fucking you
Straight into the ground
Buried six feet under all this shit
Stuck within this hell

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

That’s a fun feature… Maybe it is all the negativity… but I’m feeling pretty positive… got to love them up swings…

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Too Many Things Left To Do… Broken Thoughts…

Making my way
Paved and incomplete
Searching for answers
Without any clues
Working on getting free
Giving all my time away
Never as easy as they say
Cracked, open, free
Waiting out the end of the world
Making my way
Concentrating on the inconveniences
Digging up clues
Without any resolution

“The Lord only gives us as much as we can handle. Because you either kill yourself or handle it. It isn’t divine reasoning. It is common sense.”

Without you everything feels pointless
Standing here asking how
Laying here on the ground
Breathing was never the most important thing
Sleeping off this discussion
A moment longer and we could kill each other
Without everything seems so pointless
Sitting here wondering how
Hovering above the ground
Living was never the most important thing
Dying off this reason
A moment longer and maybe then I’d have known
The love I thought we lost
Spent too much time wondering
And not asking

“I wish it would rain. Shit on everyone’s parade.”

Can’t get these thoughts out of my head
Here’s to another lifetime of this
Speaking in riddles, tongues tied to not say
How I truly feel about all of this
Thoughts come crashing back in
A drink is more than what I need
And all that I want
Just need something to set me straight
Not forever but for a time
Locked in this skin
Is not good for anyone, let alone me
I’ll bring you the fire if you supply the water
Drowning out, snuffing out all my desires
Anything to not let me be me

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Shuffle The Deck… Q & A…

Getting to know me a can be quite the chore… believe it or not I’m a pretty quiet person… so unless provoked… I’m not going to say a whole lot… So lets shuffle the deck and learn more about me in three to four questions… Because no one asked… The Ungame has begun…

Question 1: What Do You Think About When You Can’t Fall Asleep?

This question is rather strange to me… I know that it is asking what do I think about if I actually laid down in a bed to fall asleep and couldn’t?.. but I work overnights so… I tend to pass out rather than go… hey I think I am tired… maybe I should lie down and get some good solid sleep… Which makes my broken brain think the question is… When you can’t fall asleep because you need to stay awake… What do you think about… So in the spirit of all of this I will answer both I guess…

What do I think about that puts me to sleep?

This kind of screws me over a lot… some of my best lines… stories… ideas… have been written right as I fall asleep… sometimes I able to snap out of it and try to write the best line that I can remember down… but it still isn’t the same… super excited for brain implants that can record your thoughts… or maybe I shouldn’t be?.. whatever worth the jail time if I could just remember the damn words inside my head… To combat this feeling of lose every night… I tell myself the same story every time I am actively trying to fall asleep…

Which is super private… did you think I was going to tell you my top secret story?.. Honestly it is pretty boring and stupid… It always starts out with the first line… “Some nights were colder than others, but in the dead of winter all nights seems to be the coldest they will ever be.”… Then I just go off from there… about how I live in isolation and need to find a way tomorrow to survive the end of the world by zombie apocalypse… the reason I start off with that line though is that I like to be cold when I sleep… set the tone and drift off to sleep…

What I think about to not fall asleep at work?

This varies quite a bit… I think of how to solve problems at work… I think about how some people at work are total fucking assholes… I think of how to solve a world problem or local problem such as hunger, poverty, or something I have zero control over… but if I could… I also think a lot about the things I will get done when I get home… dinner… and on more occasions than I would like… how sad and worthless I am in this world for not being able to do anything about the things I can’t control and the things I can… how I won’t get any writing done… that all my dreams are bullshit and ten years from now I will be doing the same thing over and over again… because hell is a place on earth… you know fun stuff to keep the mind sharp… these Broken Thoughts basically write themselves at a certain point…

Question 2: What Is Your Favorite Room In Your House? Why?

As always I have two… but it wasn’t always that way… My favorite room is my garage because that is where I write so I spend a lot of time in here… though really I can and do write everywhere… really I just put it together here… which gives it a positive and negative vibe… positive because I’m getting work done… finishing stories and ideas that I have been thinking about for weeks and months… sometimes years… negative because as much as I like writing… trying to be a professional writer really takes the piss out of the enjoyment of writing… now it is work… and I’m lazy… one pass is good enough for me… so what if it doesn’t make any sense?.. haha…

Which leads me to my new favorite room in the house… recently my wife got new outdoor furniture for the sun room… so I like to just sit out there and read for hours… think about life… and wonder why we didn’t do this sooner… so I like that room because there is no pressure to do anything… there is nothing on the walls… there is no TV… and all that I can hear is the squirrels trying to bang one another… pretty peaceful… helps mellow out my chaotic mind… something I never thought I would say I enjoy…

Question 3: If You Could Take Only 3 People With You On a Trip Around The World, Who Would You Take?

Finally an easy question… My wife… my daughter… and my mom… would be the most relaxing trip ever…….

Question 4: What Part Of A Big Parade Would You Like To Be?

Depends on the parade I guess… is a funeral a parade?… what kind of parade would I even be featured in?… this question raises too many other questions to be properly answered at this time… short answer I would not want to be part of any parade and fear that is a parade for my own execution… in which case… front of the god damn line… lets get this over with already…

Layne Amborse
Is
Chewing On Glass

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Still Available

Broken Thoughts Vol. 1 Between Me and You…

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

Now Available On Amazon

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

Paperback and Kindle

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