Broken Thoughts… Throwing Around Words…

The demon is back
A casual friend from before
Talking out all the things
Buried deep within
I think this will hurt
I don’t care
Could be worse
I think this will kill
I don’t care
Everything could be so much worse
Speaking from inside, experience to say
Life is all about screwing it up
Learn from these mistakes
Mistaken as good advice
Vice made, vices earned
I deserve a fucking break
From my brain for one fucking day
I know this will hurt
Do not care
Couldn’t be any worse than before
I know this will kill
Do not care
Everything could be so much worse

Who I was then verse who I am now…

A moment in time
Reliving all the lies
Hid myself from the pain
So hard to find shelter before the rain
I’d drown if it made everything better
Sucking for air
Walls closing in, chest tightening
I knew it was there
I’ve always known that pain would hurt
Condition of living, conditioned to live
A moment in time
They all pass even with no end in sight
Hid myself from the pain
Broken heart syndrome with a broken neck
Swaying to the sound
Swaying to the end of all things that end
I’d kill myself if it would take away everything
Stupid idea, thinking then all the same
Another useless day doing useless things
Biding my time, each moment a moment
Each thought something in time
Take it as it comes
What else did you have to do today?

I’m writing the ending while trying to live through the beginning…

The smell of shit litters the air
This is the world we walk
The world we live
Walking with a crooked spine
To fit in
The devil may not exist
Because he already won
Victory can seem so empty
With no one around to notice
Truth in fiction
Satisfaction in lies
Can say whatever it is to win
Perception is only part of the equation
The view from the top is empty
A lonely place reaching for the sky
Claustrophobic at the bottom
Climbing through all the limbs
Tearing down each brick of the tower
Raining shit and blood
I ask you what’s the difference?

A lot of really interesting thoughts today… maybe I talk about them all… maybe I don’t… starting in reverse… the third one is one of the best things that I have written in the past year… for me at least… we’ve all heard that shit rolls down hill… or some version of this… I am sure every culture and every language has their own version because it is true… This idea though that shit goes to the bottom and that’s the end of that… is only one perception…

It is easy to hate the top… it is easy to sit here and being like really?… boo hoo for them… fuck them… fuck them indeed… I agree… except we are all just trying to claw our way to that point… we all want to be at the top… we all want to be them… to free ourselves from all this shit that keeps piling up… but the truth is… that the shit goes in a circle… is it easier at the top?… I’m sure it is… because I’m down here at the bottom…

Maybe it is age or just a lack of effort anymore… fighting everything to get to some theoretical top doesn’t seem appealing… it somehow seems so much worse than where I stand today… I mean if I’m going to have to fight… I’d rather fight to make everything around me better than climb above it… working out how I feel about it… as I write… so bare with me… maybe if we stopped fighting each other… stopped trying to push our way up… things could be so much better… working together rather than against each other… seems to be the answer all along…

We waste so much time and effort trying to be better than the next person… some very important ways it is important… it advances us… we advance… but the superficial shit… do we honestly believe someone in a Supreme shirt is so much better than someone who is not?… organic is a privilege?… shouldn’t it just be the norm?… do we really need a screen on every god damn thing?… or maybe hear me out… one is good enough… what we have is good enough… shouldn’t who we are define us more than the things that we own or wear?… you mean we’d have to get to know each other?… jaw hits the floor…

I know I’m not starting a revolution… I’m not saying anything I haven’t heard before… but I think for the first time in my life I am feeling it… I think about shit way too much… chewing on glass… and I’ll be the first to admit I think about my life after I’ve made it as a writer… the things I would buy and have and what I would do… sometimes the thoughts made me feel “happy” and sometimes they made me feel worthless… and lately… I’m going to be honest… I don’t think about the things anymore… I don’t care… nothing will ever be enough so fuck it… lately when I’m knee deep in shit… feel like all of this life is worthless… I think of my daughter… her smiling face… it makes me so happy at times that… I have to fight the need to cry…

I think about my wife and all the joy she brings to my life… I think of those around me… how one action can change their whole day… I think of what I already have and all the things I can do for those around me… not with money or gifts… though sometimes these things help… we still have to survive… I’m talking beyond the basics… we have to take care of ourselves and those around us… but do we need all the money?… do we need to have all the things?… shouldn’t we spend our time making this life better for everyone… instead of so much better for myself?…

We live this life backwards… we live this life selfishly… we live this life not in the pursuit of happiness… and no one can until they define true happiness… and it is not the things we own or the things that we don’t own… it is the things we already have… I know I am talking without any answers… I know what I am saying won’t change everything… but maybe… at the very least… it will be another perspective for us all to think about…

Hope all is well… Welcome to the new year… let the cycle begin…

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

Muttered Words… I'd Never Heard A Human Sound…

It Hurts to a Point

Spinning in place
Death should be the end
But what if
What if it is not
Grinding into dust
Dancing against everything
That should have been
Ash to ash
Was all there was ever meant to be
But what if
What if all of this was for nothing
Bending to a breaking point
Snapped in half, left for dead
Begged and pleaded
They pick against my skin
Taking flesh for flesh
Bone for bone
But what if
What if that was how it was meant to be?

Trying to Define a Useless Existence

Sticking needles to fit in
Each one sticking out of the skin
Fucked up and chill
What’s the idea without a plan
An episodic dream played out
The arc didn’t work out
Time to move on
A bridge built between you and me
Each letter spells out a different thought
The neon sign wasn’t for effect
A warning that glows against the night sky
Sin, love, live and fucking forget
Thoughts and opinions don’t matter
Trapped in your head
Screaming broken sentences
Could you ever, would you please
Believe in me?
Not asking anymore
Simply begging for all of this love and admiration
Not the way it was
Only the way it has always been
Special but as it turns out, not at all
Better than you, turns out not at all
Full of shit and finally we circle the same corpse
Being honest with myself
Taking in all the truth
Nothing is worth anything
So what the fuck do I do with my day?
Depression creeping in? “No”
Life checking in? “No”
Cracking open my own brain? “Yes”
Punishing myself? Pushing? What’s the difference?
Breaking down the ideas of everything
Trying to define a useless existence
Still searching for definitions

One of these was supposed to be a broken thought… finished the thought… which one doesn’t matter… The title for today’s post is from an epic band called… Brown Bird… song is called Cast No Shadow… New cycle starts Jan 2… I’ll be seeing you real soon…

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

Whats That?… Broken Thoughts Vol. 1: Between You and Me… Now Available?

Paperback and Kindle Edition Are Live… At A Rock Bottom Price… Get Your Copy Today… And Start Enjoying Two New Stories… Two New Poems… and Of Course Some Broken Thoughts…

Broken Thoughts Vol. 1: Between You and Me…

Chewing On Glass Presents… Tripping On A Hole In A Paper Heart…

In a classroom full of Macs the information they must process, but they are here at this shit school. Which means they go to waste. Been in this class for over a week and we have yet to even turn one on. I’m in a classroom full of people I hate. Locked in a room with no key with people like me. Each and every one of them thinks they are better than me. Better than everyone else. The room feels claustrophobic and small. The room feels like hell. There are only twelve of us occupying the space, but it might as well be a thousand. The drugs I took today are not making this feeling go away. If anything they may have been bad, tainted. The teacher speaks in a way that is hard to understand. It is time to strap in.

It feels as if she is only talking to me, and I have to keep reminding myself that she isn’t. The students seem faceless. They have the blankest of stares that I can’t understand. I can’t see their eyes or their mouths. I begin to sweat and I have to take my sweatshirt off. It isn’t enough to escape the feeling that the room is on fire. I want to strip all of my clothes off as if this is normal. But I’m not high enough yet to just do it. The teacher keeps talking and the more I stare the more I notice that something seems to be leaking from her eyes. She is smiling and laughing as more blood pours from her eyes. The room erupts with the sound of laughter as the others join in. Their laughs float in the air as if they are real objects. I fight the urge to reach out to one. Take it into myself so I could join in. I’m getting even more nervous by the moment. My sweat has soaked through my shirt and I realize I am trapped in a nightmare the drugs are creating.

I start to see smoke come from behind the teacher. This must be where the feeling of being trapped in a fire is coming from. I fight the urge to shout anything out. Foot tapping to the restrained words inside my head. Faster and faster my foot taps to a broken beat. The smoke gets thicker and I find it hard to breathe. The orange glow of fire starts to fill the back of the room. I feel the heat of the fire on my face. Maybe this is real, but why aren’t the other students shouting and screaming? Why are they just sitting there laughing as if everything is okay? I fake a smile as I look at their blank faces. My face feels stretched against the fire. Locked in place with a crooked smile. I want to leave but I am afraid. Afraid of what I might find outside of this room. The teacher rises from her chair at the head of the class. A monstrous force with pitchfork in hand. She waves it around her pointing it at each and every one of us. Impaled fetus rest on each fork. Cooked and barely distinguishable from burnt up sausages. Only the little charred hands pointing back at me. She screams with a horrible sound that has no equal. She screams in a language I can’t understand. A lost language that hasn’t been spoken since the dawn of time. She paces the front of the room. Only stopping to pound her pitchfork and let out another scream. It’s not real. It’s not real. The other students respond back with their own horrible screams. It’s not real. I just need to ride this out. I close my eyes and place my head on my desk.

The heat around me rises to an unbearable degree as the pounding of her pitchfork gets closer and closer until I can feel her right above me. I scream as her burning hand touches my shoulders. Her face has transformed into a face of scales and blood. She whispers to me as she looks into my eyes. I watch as the students are engulfed in flames. They make no noise as they burn. Through the fire I can now see all of their eyes. All of their eyes staring back at me. The teachers places her face directly in front of me. All I can see is her. Her scales breaking off into little flakes as she moves her mouth. “I can’t,” is all I can manage to say. I fight the urge to vomit and scream at the same time. I grab my backpack and try to ignore the fact that it feels like something is moving inside. Running through the flames I know this isn’t real, but I can’t stay here any longer. I reach for the red hot handle attached to the black door. The handle feels cold as I push down on it and enter the hallway on the other side.

The black door slams, but it sounds as though it is coming from far away. I struggle through the hallway. Making my way towards the stairs. Each foot step feels like a fight. Feels as though the bottoms of my shoes have melted to the floor. Should I take them off? Even in a nightmare state that seems like a bad idea. It takes me a moment before I notice the others. I am not alone as I make my way through the building. More faceless students surround me. Each one with a knife in their hands. I try to not draw any attention to myself. Each step, each leg pulled with all the effort I have left. I need to get to my car. It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. It goes on so long I forget what it is that I am doing and fall just before the stairs. I manage to catch myself. The hallway grows silent. The students are no longer going about their business. Picking myself up off the floor I look around. The faceless students stare back at me. Each one holding their long butcher knife beside them. The blades shine as they turn them from side to side in an offbeat synchronized rhythm. The light in the hallway reflecting off each and every one of them. I feel an intense amount of dread fill my stomach. I don’t wait for them to do anything as I run down the stairs in horror.

Step by step in a rapid fashion. Until I miss the last step. Slamming face first onto the floor. I hear a rush of footsteps approach me. One of the faceless students tries to help me up. Their knife rested next to me on the floor. It speaks to me in a way that I don’t understand. I kick away from the face my body filled with pain and shock. I crawl my way to the nearest door and manage to get myself up on my feet. One of my feet hurts but I can’t tell which one. My fears of going outside were justified. The sky is no longer sunny or blue. The sky has turned a shade of red and the clouds have become a black so dark that it couldn’t possibly be real. Little red flakes fall from the black clouds. They float down around me in a slow motion usually reserved for the movies. The flakes make their way to the ground and they slowly melt as each one makes it to the ground. Forming puddles of blood that litter the pavement. Bigger and bigger the puddles grow with every passing moment. It’s not real. It’s not real. I sprint towards the parking lot. Pain shooting up one of my legs.

The cars are misshapen and I can’t tell which one is mine. I take out my keys and press the panic button. My car begins to honk somewhere in the distance. The lights of the car flash on and off in shades of blue, red, green, and purple in no real order. They flash in a pattern that says here I am. I run to the car. Unlocking it with a push of a button and turn the panic mode off. I open the back passenger door and crawl inside. Crawl inside my new womb. The seats feel slimy and warm. The seats feel like home. A warm womb with windows? This isn’t real. This isn’t real. What is anymore? I ask myself as the seats pulsate as if they are real.  I bury my head into the back seat and close my eyes against the warm. Feels as though my head is surrounded by water. Through it all I hear it. The sound of music, the sound of talking, the sounds of a distant memories I have long forgotten. The sounds of it all are taking over little by little by some outside noise.  I hear scratching on the sides of my car. Too afraid to open my eyes I just scream into the seat. Scream until I finally pass out to the sounds of the students dragging their knives across the sides of the car. Waiting tear me away from my new home. Hands and knives pressed against the sides of my womb.

Wait… What the fuck?… Yeah I don’t know either… I spent a lot of time messing with this one… the basic idea was always there from the beginning… as most ideas are… first draft was weird and crazy… apparently I have always been weird and a little bit off… who knew?… but I thought lets turn this shit up to eleven… fun fact… I had to be removed by C section… had to be torn from my first home as well… if I hadn’t there was a good chance I would have died… cord was tied around my throat… my life line was not ready to let go?… I was also super late… two weeks… my mom thought I was never going to come out… almost didn’t as it turns out… spoiler alerts I made it…

I often wonder though… as the cord was tied around my neck… and the doctors told my mother to push… that in those moments… something happened to me… turned on a switch… told me to live… not to given into everything that was happening to me… of course these are adult thoughts… these are thoughts I have when all hell feels as though it surrounds me… I tried to inject that idea into this character… give him a piece of me… this isn’t real… this isn’t real… which this story isn’t… I’ve never done acid or any psychedelic drugs… for every reason presented above in the story…

If I can imagine all of that sober… I am afraid of what I would see high… which is where this story started… I like to explore the idea of what I might find over… actually going to find it… grass is greener where the dogs are shitting and all… I have been lucky… or too uncool… to have never been around drugs… I knew people who do them… know people who do a lot of them… just not around me… and all those that I know who do a lot of them… live a life I would never want to live… it looks brutal… miserable… but that is the life that they choose… that sounds like I am an asshole… and that could be a whole other post… condensed version of what I believe about life… is that we make our own choices…

I write a lot about drugs… A Lie for example… other stories found on this website… I try at all times to not make them sound fun… they very well could be… but I really doubt it long term… I have tried a few… the ones that I have tried I have liked… one for a short term (marijuana)… the other… well if you have been paying attention to the website for the last year… long term in a bad way (alcohol)… nothing too crazy… but in the very limited scope of what I have experienced… being sober has always been better… like everything in life… never at the time… only in hind sight…

So back to the question or thought I presented… why do you write a lot about drugs?… Honestly because they’re something physical… something tangible… something most of us can understand… because we all know someone or know someone who knows someone that does drugs or knew… some of us have done them ourselves… and also because you can’t inject… or snort… or smoke sadness… but as it turns out you can… and in the case of A Lie… that is where I went with that… same as I went here… this story isn’t real… I didn’t trip on acid and fall asleep in my car… I had a panic attack and feel asleep in my car instead… that is where fiction and truth collide… that is where I like to stand… that is where I like to be when I write… could I have written the same story for the same effect without drugs?… yep… but it would have been boring… been like digging at an old wound… where is the fun in that?… find out next week… complete with pictures as we dig deeper into my chest… : )

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

Broken Thoughts… Looking For Something New…

Slowly killing myself
Living life, not fast enough
Dying life, not slow enough
Speed it up
Let it go
Breathe a little
Keep fucking running
Not enough
Add it up
Subtract the dream
Slowly killing myself
Living life, not slow enough
Dying life, not fast enough
Drag it in
Hold on tight
Exhale a little
Keep fucking pulling
Not enough effort
Add it up
Subtract the want
Nothing equals what you give
Living on fumes
Being dragged by the chain
Waiting around bored
Makes no sense
Yet here we are

I can’t separate the need from the pain…

How many times are you going to break my heart?
How many times will I let you?
Ripping the heart from my chest
What a useless vessel for love
How much can one take?
Enough to kill for
At what point am I?
What a useless question for love
Not even close enough
How many times are you going to take everything?
How many times must I watch it all walk away?
Stripping the soul from my body
What a useless vessel for life
How much can one take?
Enough to die for
At what point am I?
What a useless question for something
So meaningless as this

Sometimes it is easier to say the words out loud than to believe them…

Are you even trying?
Do you try to breathe?
No, why would I? You?
Only when I’m drowning

Trying to make it through today…

Two weeks from thirty two
Growing old
The mirror’s reflection doesn’t look the same
The mind feels as it always does
Growing old
Thinking about all the things
Thinking how none of this means a thing
Growing old
Killing myself is getting old

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

Chewing On Glass Presents: Bobby…

The man shakes as he speaks his words more transparent than his presence. His needs outweigh his wants by now, but it is all trivial in the end. We wanders from table to table on the outdoor patio. He wants someone to listen to him. “God is good,” I can hear him say from the next table over. He has a speech rambling in his head only the audience isn’t willing to listen. He is off to another table talking to himself as he goes along. Explaining his speech on deaf ears and intoxicated minds. Taking the appropriate amount of time with each thought, each word as though anything he has to say is important. A girl at the next table goes down the rabbit hole with him, but she soon comes up for air and walks away. So he moves on. He is a disciple of God he proclaims as he reaches my table. I inherit my new role in all of this with grace. Something is off about him and I don’t think it is the alcohol. Jesus he repeats. He is the disciple of Jesus not God. Though Jesus is God he explains. He seems confused as to what even he is saying as he says it, but I listen all the same. Who am I to turn away a fellow story teller? He engages with everyone at my table. More so than I have for the past few minutes. He takes a seat in the empty chair at our table. Uninvited but not pushed away. He found what he was looking for in us. An audience who can’t look away. He sets the scene, lays out the characters, and tells us his tale. A tale of heart break, a tale of pain. It is a story that is easy to judge after the fact, but you know that during it all there was, was pain. Love is fickle in that way. Intense, everlasting, all that there is, and after a time it is nothing at all. A mistake, a bad decision, a waste of time, but for some that time never ends even after the fact. Insert Bobby, insert God, and insert the reason he sits before us today. Drinking is not new to him. Drinking and science is what lead him here today, but like most people around these parts God showed him the way. A woman left, the woman left him he stresses with every little detail. He was sad so he drank. Tried to drink the pain away. He was successful for a moment in time. Only he tried to do something else that night, drive home. Illegal enough of an activity to call his actions stupid, irresponsible, dangerous, and yet we haven’t even gotten to all the details. Drinking plus heartbreak plus speed can only equal one thing to most of us. Lucky to make it out of the wreck alive if not destroyed. Lucky that no one else was hurt or anywhere near his selfish act. Bobby found something he didn’t know he was missing until then. Bobby found God or so his story goes. As he thanked him with a prayer between sips of beer. Didn’t thank science or the doctors. He didn’t thank the people around him that took care of him while he recovered from the horrible accident that left him with irreversible brain damage. No he thanked God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. He finishes his beer and gets up from the chair. Asks if we found Jesus? Before wandering off once again. In search of a new audience to hear the same speech repeating in his head.

This one is pretty dark… very different… and Bobby very much exists… I meet him for a brief moment… almost seven years ago… while going through my notes I found my notes on the evening… my friend at the table told me after he left… that this would be a good story… so I wrote some notes down… left it at that for almost a decade… one because I buried the notes… and two because I didn’t know how to approach the story…

It isn’t my style… especially back then… back then I had no style… but I knew that, that wasn’t the style I was going for… recently I had a change of heart… I found the notes and I set out to finish it… it isn’t long and it isn’t epic… but it is real… I don’t know if Bobby still walks the earth telling his tale… I hope so… but just in case… here it is…

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

Broken Thoughts… Turning My Head To The Side…

Breaking down the barrier
Between then and now
Forever lost in your thoughts
How it is, how it should be
Like suffering where you sit
Here we are trapped in all this shit
An endless cycle
Without a defined beginning
Like suffering as you breathe
Struggling through every breath
Here I am waiting on your sin

Broken wings too bent to fly…

Your words hurt me
I won’t admit this truth
Face to face
The truth burns deep inside my head
An insect among the dead
Feared and never respected
Bring the truth of the world to light
Eating all that you dispose
In the darkness I grow

Scattered across the floor of my mind…

Apocalypse Dawn
Burning scars across the face of it all
The embers burn into a blaze of thought
Screaming words to prove I’m sane
The poison long injected into the vain
Been longing to die with them all along
Just didn’t know it had to be so soon
As quickly as now
Trading everything to not fit in
The transactions leaving tracks across the skin
Selling parts of me to prove I’m not them
Antisocial and got it wrong
Suffering alone for no reason at all
Just didn’t know that it had to make no sense
Not even now
A confusing time to figure it all out
At the apocalypse dawn

Wait that last one isn’t a Broken Thought… it is a poem… yeah well shit changes… Originally only had the title… Apocalypse Dawn… which is why I wrote every line to “As quickly as now“… in the first place… should have been the end of the thought… as it was when I wrote it months ago… but on second pass today… I thought that it was way to violent for no reason at all…

I’m not one to shy away from violence… being vulgar… but even I have a change of heart… when there is no reason for it… So I started fucking around with it and came up with the rest… turned it from a violent world ending thought… to being about growing old… retrospective today?… maybe…

While messing around I wrote three other lines that I took out… they were good… but I only wanted the idea of what they said rather than the actual words themselves…

A fashion statement with no reason
Just go back to the beginning
To see where this began

Maybe I will use them later for something else… or they will get buried in my notes… but without context they are very vague… the first line here is about trends and all the things we do to be “different”… something I am very guilty of… not a bad thing… but as we grow older… as we out grow the trend of the time… popular or not… we may still keep some of things we did as children… but mostly we shed all that we can to fit in to society in the end… All the kids are like fuck that this is me for life… and all of us “old people” are having flashbacks earlier times…

Need examples?… why the fuck not… my thoughts are on display anyway… Growing up I was Punk as fuck… you know like everyone else… I was rebellious to a point… I had crazy hair… basically my bangs grown all the way to the center of my chest and the rest of my head shaved… dyed black of course… finger nails painted… very Misfits… blended with what I also loved at the time… pop punk… lip ring… long shorts… skater shoes… I also had to have black bracelets… the rubbery jelly kind… because Joey Jordison from Slipknot had them… so I had to have them too… I was a mix of fashions… because I was so “different” then everyone else…

I carried these rebellious choices for a long ass time… It was me and was always going to be me… let me tell you kids don’t even know… hit that first job… lost half of myself in an instant… lip ring had to come out (I kept this for awhile… had to take it out when I got to work… but when all you do is work… it became too much of a pain in the ass to take out every day)… nails must be clean… and absolutely no bracelets… I fought some of these rules… I had changed my hair by then… you know because Davey Havok from AFI had a full head of long black hair… so I needed that too… but for the most part it was fit in or starve…

Sell out?… maybe… but somethings aren’t worth fighting for… growing older you learn the difference… for me fashion didn’t define me for me… my thoughts… my words… the music I like… those define me… and can’t be taken away… Lost track of where I was going with this… but shit changes whether you want it to… think it won’t… or believe in your heart of hearts that it can’t?.. unless you are rich… then you can shit from the roof tops with no regrets… fitting in has such a dirty taste…

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

Almost forgot… a thought… Apocalypse Dawn… Would make such an awesome band name… yeah sometimes the thoughts are as simple as that… and everything else just leaks out…