Chewing On Glass Presents: A Story Never Told…

“What the hell are you even doing up at this hour?” A voice asks with a yawn. I bang on the door harder and harder. “Ain’t no one want to see you in there. Hell I see you and I don’t even want to,” the homeless man moans. “Shut up you stupid vagrant. As a matter of fact someone in there really does want to see me,” I inform him. “Oh, really? That why you have been out here for a better part of an hour messing up my sleep? The only fact I see around here is that no one wants your ass around. So why don’t you go ahead and give it a rest so I can get some rest. Got an early morning. I’m a busy man,” the homeless man mumbles that last bit but I still here him through it all. I stop banging on the door and I’m ready to bang on something else. I raise my fists, “One more word old man and I’ll see to it that you get plenty of rest.” The homeless man giggles. He giggles at me. I can feel my anger and frustration rising. “Don’t go starting trouble when troubles already found you. Take my advice. I didn’t end up here by design,” the man preaches. I start to take the steps down to his garbage bed when a familiar sweet voice takes a hold. “He’s right you know?” Her voice cutting through the commotion. All I wanted from her was an acknowledgement that I was even there. “I’ll ring you in. I guess we need to talk,” she says from the second floor window. I turn back towards the door. “Are you sure Miss Kelly?” The vagrant asks. “Of course she is sure,” I snap at the man. “There you go starting trouble again. I ain’t afraid of you. Honestly I ain’t got nothing left to lose,” the homeless man smiles a toothless grin before putting up his fists. “Yes, I’m sure Frank, but if I change my mind.” “I’ll be right here miss Kelly,” Frank finishes for her. She smiles and moves away from the window. Moments later I hear the sound of the door buzzing and I head inside. Frank lies back down on his makeshift bed, “Can’t get no peace and quiet. Thoughts this was a good neighborhood. God damn kids with their drama.”

I ascend the stairs rapidly. A flight of stairs in an instant. There is much to say and who knows how long to say it. The door is cracked and waiting for me when I get there. I take in a large breath. Be cool Miles. Be cool I tell myself one more time before knocking on the door. She is waiting just on the other side as I enter. “May I ask what is so important you have to disturb me and the whole neighborhood at 3 am?” She starts right at the door way. There are so many things that I want to say. All at once, but only one thing I should say. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing to come out. “Sorry for what? What you did or disturbing everyone? Because only one of those things can be fixed with an, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I’m here so late disturbing you and everyone else. I’m sorry for what I did earlier. I’m sorry for a lot of things,” I say searching for my words. “Yes, you should be,” she informs me watching my reaction. “Your sorry has come too late I’m afraid. They are useless at this point and are no longer any good here,” she pauses for a moment to let it sink in her eyes very different from all the other times. “Kelly please,” I interrupt. “Kelly please what? Forgive you again and again? Damnit Miles you can’t just keep messing up and thinking I will forgive you later for it. You can only play a song so many times before it becomes background noise,” her eyes like fire. I step closer to her. I let her speak her mind and now I have to try the one move I have left. If I can get her in my arms I know she will change her mind. I’m greeted by an open hand on my chest, “Not this time Miles. We are done,” she says sternly. “This is the last time I swear,” I reach for the hand on my chest. She quickly moves it away before I can even touch her one last time. “You said that two times ago and every time before. Let me say this so you understand. I am done and this is the last time I am going to tell you,” she locks eyes with me. “But?” I try to say. I’m at a loss of words. “It’s time for you to leave and I’m not asking. I’m telling you,” she commands with her finger extended towards the stairs. I look her in the eyes one last time before doing as I was told. There comes a time in any battle where winning is losing either way so there is only one thing to do. I turn and walk my new path. I hear the door close behind me and the door’s lock click over as I reach the stairs. “I didn’t mean it,” I say to an empty audience. From behind the door she breathes a heavy, “I know,” before a tear falls to the ground.

I leave the apartment building at the slowest speed. Lost in thought. What have I done this time? What have I given up for nothing? Questions I only have excuses for but no answers. I pass by the vagrant known only as Frank. “Out in your ass I see. You ain’t the only one. Join the club as they say,” he lets out a small laugh. The street goes silent as I walk down the block. A coldness washes over me. Where I am off too. I really don’t know.

What a love story?… am I in the right place?… sure are… a bit different from what I normally write… minus the strong woman character… the darkness… and the absences of a story… this was very much an experiment piece… one where I tried to write about emotions with no real context… oddly enough this one was written in third person perspective and I switched it… Actual Meaning started out in first person and I switched to third… proof that not every story starts and ends the way you think it will…

Everything goes through a couple of drafts… I won’t bore you with all the changes and story shifts… this story did take more time… way more time then it should have… a couple of years actually… yeah you read that right… let me get this straight… I didn’t obsess over this story for years… I wrote it and filed it away… I write or start writing things all the time… come back later and rewrite the whole thing… then file it away again… sometimes the ideas come and other times they are nothing more than a thought… that all sounds confusing… see a thought…

I spend different time on different things… these final thoughts at the end… a rambling commentary of what I am thinking right here and now… the stories take on different layers as I drag myself through life… I believe that is the point I am trying to make… but I barely know what the hell I am thinking at any given moment… dragging my corpse on…

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

Spent Every Last Dime…

Writing from my humid, fart smelling, and spider infested desk has to be the pinnacle of everything in my life right now. Hammering nails into wood would seem almost more productive at this point. Year fucking zero on a life that has yet to begin. I wonder how many more Ghost reference I can push through my brain for no reason at all. Bored with all the time in the word. Sitting still seems like the only thing to do, but I have a mountain of shit I have to do for free. I guess we all bide our time doing something. Broken part of my brain won’t let me just enjoy life. No I have to be working towards something at a glaciers pace on a budget of zero. Maybe today will be the day I drink enough energy drinks and smoke enough cigarettes to kill myself. Unlikely, but maybe the alcohol will slip me into a comma that I don’t give a fuck about what other people think. It won’t, but I need to submit my thoughts none the less. Don’t get me wrong I love to write, but I could do without all the pressure of being liked. I have yet to find any audience that wants to hold me high above their shoulders and chant my name. Nope instead I am sweating my ass off in my garage plotting away a life time’s worth of work.

 It’s hard out here for a pimp. Working away at nothing is exhausting. I know what I would do with all of the attention and it isn’t pretty. But to be honest I fear it all the same. I don’t want to be the center of attention. That is how I have always been. I don’t want to be someone’s hero. I like being the villain and I just want to write. I love it. It is all I do and everything else is something I do to pass the time in between thoughts. Get in line right? Well I already am in line. Been there for a while waiting for my number to be called. Gone through all the stages and been left behind. I can feel my heart growing even more bitter with every day. I’m not there yet, but I can feel it coming around the corner. Digging out the hole in my heart. The more it hurts the closer you get right? Being sober is a long walk to the same exact spot. The more I say the more I want, could use a drink. The depression takes a hold and all I can think is maybe tomorrow. All the time in the world and I don’t want to do anything, but ramble on. Ramble on about my failures in a game that makes no sense.

Nothing handed to you is worth anything at all. Anything worth anything won’t just be found. Stumbled upon maybe, but odds are that it won’t. Digging a four foot grave because six feet seems like too much work. An analogy for my whole life. If only I could change something in my brain. Flip a switch and set all this shit to off. Wake me up when any of it matters and yet I know I’d never flip that switch. All this pain, all this effort, all this waiting has to be worth something. Even if it is worth nothing at all in the scheme of things. Life isn’t about anything other than living, but living is the boring part. The day to day drag of nothing at all. The best moments in life are the ones you don’t know you are living until they have already gone by. Remind myself that this isn’t over, but I know I want more. Feel it in my bones. Rattling around in my head to keep going for a dream that makes no sense. Who the fuck cares what anyone has to say when we don’t? Let alone pay for it? Print is nearly dead and I cling to its dying corpse in hopes that it will pay off. Seems very much like something I would do. Get it from my mother. This optimism that everything will work out if you work hard enough. Where the fuck I get this bitterness I do not know.

Threading the line between optimist and pessimist becomes exhausting over time. A fucking wave of emotions that crashes against the rocks of my brain. Will I or won’t I actually give a shit today? And even if I do will I even do anything with it or just sit and suffer? Living life stuck in between everything else is exhausting. Word of the day. Exhausted and bored with every thought. I could, but why should I? Stuck in between here and there and I just want to be there already. Though I have no idea where there is. Happy? Unlikely. Content? Stop trying to fit yourself into a box. Comfortable? In this skin? Highly unlikely. Fighting for something and swinging at nothing. A circle jerk with no pay off. Lost and lonely, and that is where I am today. Doing nothing at all.

If you click the links maybe some Amazon book magic will happen without you having to buy anything… I don’t know I am stupid and desperate… but if you have a Twitter account… you can click that link… and tell me how much life sucks… or how much I suck… I’m open to interpretation… don’t forget to use the hash tag… #BrokenThought….

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

When There’s No More Room… Part 7…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Teeth Into The Concrete…

I have two days… less than that really to write my next story part for… When There’s No More Room… but I really don’t want too… well its not that I don’t want to work on it… I’m just not in the mood to kill anyone… write about killing anyone… or dig deeper into a broken soul… shocker I know…

So I have time to write… what should I write about?… Recently I was told that I should do more stories… I used to do a lot of them… but really there’s only so much shit you can pull out of your ass… there is a limit apparently… I don’t do requests… but I would be lying if the thought to do more stories… wasn’t already on my mind…

More or less… I stopped talking about shit that was happening… mostly because… well for some of the worst reasons… I was going through some shit… I’m sure my recent output hasn’t reflected that in any way… haha… Basically I have been drinking… not fun drinking… no something so much worse… all the reasons I won’t explain… but most of them have been because of myself… I’m not over a lot of them… but I’m over some of them at the moment…

One of the biggest ones… was that I hated myself and I wanted to die… not sure I truly 100% invested in this over bearing thought in my head… but it corrupted me enough each and every day… that I really just didn’t care about anything… work… writing… my family… breathing… it was all so much… that it was easier to just drink myself into oblivion to try and shut the voice off in my head… fun fact… it didn’t… for the most part (saying this sober) it just cranked up the fucking volume… if it wasn’t for my little girl and a few friends … not sure I’d be here… honestly though even a few times that wasn’t enough… I was too drunk to remember why I didn’t do it at those moments…

But I wanted too pretty bad… I remember a time I just sat there… for what seemed like forever… staring at my box cutter… telling myself to not… while also basically telling myself to just do it… that it doesn’t matter… nothing matters… what could it possibly matter?… still don’t have answers for any of those questions… but as a friend of mine said to me recently… “At least we still have our health”… As much as I want to do it… At least I’m still here to do it… one day at a time… about the only thing tethering me to the top of the hole dug in my heart…

That was heavy… when I wasn’t busy… thinking about killing myself… well life was just piling on all the reasons I should… work wanted everything I had… and I had nothing to give… my writing was turning into nothing but rejection email after rejection email… my family… was falling apart… for helpless reasons out of my own control… and all I wanted to do was scream… so I drank… did nothing… and drank some more… solving nothing as it all piled on… honestly a lot of that stuff was already stacked on top of me… and it still is… but the family stuff… well that was… that is… all I’ve ever really cared about…

This is all fun… getting published would be a dream… doing this all day every day… would put a smile on my face… but none of this… none of the shit at work… nothing in this world means as much to me as my family… it is all so trivial in the end… money… fame… acceptance… I have all of that right here… we all have our driving force… our own weakness… and mine happens to be the same thing… Take that way… the whole house of cards called life comes tumbling down… I just didn’t want to get out from under it all…

We all fall down every once in a while… but life is about getting back up… not about the shit that took us to the ground… One day at a time… I don’t do requests… and neither should you… unless you are in a cover band… but for me… make it one more day…

Queens of the Stone Age… Fortress

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

When There Is No More Room… Part 5…

It happened again today. One of the patients tried to escape. “Couldn’t take the devil for one more day,” she screamed over and over as she tried to squeeze herself between the broken shards of glass and the bars of her window. The hospital board will want to know what I’d call it. A suicide attempt? A condition of her psychosis? What can we file this under? “How doctor do you explain what is going on?” I can hear them asking me. Even as the staff rush to help her with her many wounds. Even as she is bleeding out all over the floor. How do I explain this?

How does one explain to someone who is not here to witness this behavior day in and day out? How does one justify this as a normal everyday occurrence? One doesn’t. That one who is me must lie. Make an excuse to how such a patient ended up with gashes all over her body. Because the truth in this matter is irrelevant. A broken brain, the devil made me, and feelings of sadness are not answers to the questions they will ask. The bleeding slows and the staff lift her up onto the gurney. She will have to spend sometime in the medical warded. Heavily sedated of course. Which is the only reason I have to even bother with any of these incestuous questions. Money is all the board cares about. Had she hit her head? Well who would have noticed the difference? I know I wouldn’t have.

Why is it always the low risk patients that cause the most problems? More restraints maybe? I have my own questions that need to be answered. When she heals up I will have to find time to ask them. Until then it is on to the next one and the next one after that. I’m locked in here with them. I know it seems as if I can leave the confines of this place but illusions often seem real. Every day is a repeat, a trap in which I can not break free. Each case, each patient, each dark secret of the mind only makes the nightmare that much worse.

A man of science is no more trapped than a man of faith.One in the same forced to go on two separate paths that no matter which is taken come to the same conclusion, death. They don’t teach you that in school. No life teaches you that over time. Holds your head down under the water and demands answers to questions you could not possibly understand. I envy the others here. The staff and the patients as they do not seem to notice the path they have chosen, or perhaps they have without ever really knowing? Too many questions. The mind is a locked box in which I am expected to pry open, expected to break, fix, and replace. Maybe in the end all I have broken is myself?

Still haven’t done a cool image for the story… working on it… I’m not though… I just believe that I will… and I am…

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

Broken Thoughts… Slowly Killing Myself… Very Slowly…

There is an emptiness inside my
Head, heart, life, soul
Craved out by your hand
There is a dark cloud that hangs over my
Head, heart, life, soul
Nothing you say
Will ever mean anything to me
Living through this life
Poisoning the fucking well
Turned you against the thought
Driven under, but I can’t forget
What it is that you have done to my
Head, heart, life, soul

Destined to lead a broken nation… Just like me…

Biding my time until all is dead
Inconstant to the soul I claim to have
Fitting in, in the shadows
The darkness that separates
Me from you
The asshole who deserves a thrown
So much better than you
Fucking stab out the insecurities
All I’m left with
Is dead
A broken thought for the fucking insane
Biding my time until all is dead
Dancing, screaming in the dark
Best friends until the end
God how much do I hate you
Face to face is too much
Can’t use my words when I’m
Not hiding or did you forget
I’ve always been
The asshole in the shadows

Even the lies become clear…

Who knew depression could hurt this much?
Who knew suicide felt a lot like living?
Who knew this could have all been from you?
Hind sight telling me something
Sooner would have been so much better
Working through the pain

Hope you have been enjoying When There Is No More Room… I’m having a blast working on it… trust me I am working on it… In fact this Wednesday… there will be another part… Shitting in the dark…

I know this post is all sad… a darkness I live with every day… but today… feeling pretty good… Yes… I am listening to Bother by Stone Sour… but I am doing great… Textbook I’m lying… but I’m not… at least I don’t think or feel that I am… Switching tracks to Sulfur by Slipknot… I really don’t want to come off as sad or broken… yeah the rails are a little shaky… : )

I’m totally not siting in the dark… pretending I am all right… bored with this topic… in other news… well I haven’t been up to much… I need to do another round of submissions… but really what’s the point?… I got the voices in my head after all… what more do I need?… I don’t really hear voices… at least not yet… no judgement but… Would I feel less lonely at that point?…

The key is to not get up… give up… what’s the difference at this point… keep writing… through the pain… through life… through everything… eventually… something will stick… trust me… a waste of time?… death is the only thing we waste our time thinking about… living my words… see you all this Wednesday… music I love be damned… : )

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

Breaking My Back Against The Stones… Broken Thoughts…

Washing the blood from my hands
Another failed attempt
To make things okay
Between me and you
I don’t think this is working
Miss you more with each day
Washing the blood from my heart
Took a lot longer that I thought
Preserved it, to make things okay
Between me and you
I don’t think this is working
Want you more with each day
Washing the blood from my hands
Another failed attempt
To make things okay
Between me and you

“Poster child for the inappropriate.”

Not a unique situation
Uniquely the situation
Thought about killing myself
To the point, that I don’t know
If it is already done
What’s the point
If this will all end?
Not a unique situation
Uniquely the situation
Dissatisfaction to everything
I’m around, to the point
That I don’t know
If it is me that is dissatisfying
What’s the point of caring
If this will all end?
Not a unique situation
Uniquely my own predicament

You’d be amazed at the amount of people that talk out loud to themselves. No cellphone, no head phones, and no one with them. “Do I like mesquite or maple?” I don’t know. Do you?

Told me you wouldn’t
But I know you would
Your lies aren’t so hidden
When nothing else about you is real
Confused even more after all this time
A life devoted to you
Could you say the same
Yore lies aren’t so hidden
When nothing you’ve never said was the truth
Drive it in, deeper please
Until I can no longer feel the pain
Your love ain’t worth shit
When your lies aren’t so hidden
Told me you wouldn’t
But I’ve always known you would

Trying out some new… headlines… I guess… to break up the Broken Thoughts… I was working on a book of Broken Thoughts… before everything went to shit… ran into a pretty hard wall twenty pages in… it just all seemed like one long ass poem… twenty pages to be exact… from screen to the page… things definitely change…

Hopefully the change makes the difference… because I really want to get that project off the ground… tell me what you think… If you have left a comment… I promise I will get back to you… I’ve become buried… but I’m not ignoring you…

I guess I should address the elephant in the room… things have become a lot better since I have written those pieces… nothing will ever be the best they can be… learning to live with who I’ve become… why is everything so cryptic?… my life at the moment…

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