It Arrived…

monster collab edit

 

“That’s when I was like… She just doesn’t get me… Sometimes it feels as though I’m only talking to myself… shh… acted natural I can see her in the distance…”

“I can hear you Charles… If this is how you are going to be the whole time… Maybe we should go home… I only wanted to have a good time…”

Charles whispers “She gets like this every time there is an end of days… Wait where are you going?… Don’t run away… Every time…”

 

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Peter makes this look easy… if you don’t know who Peter is… he is the mad genius behind Little Fears… if you don’t know who Little Fears is… well the link is for you… if you like horror… comedy… odd things… and… art… Little Fears is for you… also it is okay to groan… Peter is into that sort of thing… Little Fears Presents It Arrived

Forrester McLeod AKA Katy Boyer AKA we just met so I’m not sure which name she likes to go by… but I have been checking out her art and her website… I have to say I have been very impressed by her work… both written… and artistically… so if you like art… words… or discovering new things… then you should definitely check her out… It Arrived… 

I want to thank Peter and Katy for the invite… It Arrived… was a very fun and exciting concept… being that I’m no where as good of an artist as either one of them… It was a fun and rewarding challenge… to try to get to their level… hope you all enjoy this special week-end post… see you Monday… 

A Running Theme… Stampeded Soul…

On My Mind

Well the revolution it happened so fast
It is as though it didn’t happen at all
Left behind to try and figure out the fragments
Shattered reality, pieces that society left behind
Where do we go from here
Should give up and never start again
My thoughts bleed together to the point
It is as though they never existed at all
All of this in my mind or
Am I missing my mind in all of this
Chewing on the pieces
Where do we go from here
Should give up and never start again
Everything falls apart so fast
It is as though it wasn’t together at all
Shattered throughout time, missing pieces
Left rooted in the gums
Blood dripping down my chin
Shoveling, swallowing all the broken pieces
Where do we go from here
Should have given up and never started again
Always on my mind, mind is always on

 

They Are

Pitfalls and traps are everywhere I stand
How am I to know which will kill
and which will set me free?
No one is who they say they are
Only who they think they are
Broken and scarred
So fake it makes me sick
A bass line dripping with disdain
A mind full of distortion
I detest everything but somehow
Wake up every morning anyways
My mouth tastes like shit
Getting sick from everything said around me
How am I to know who will kill
and who will set me free?
No one is what they say they are
Only what they think they are
Perfect and beautiful
So confusing it makes me dizzy
A bass drum saturated in disgust
A mind full of dissolution
I discuss everything but somehow
End up sleepless every night anyways
My eyes are full of shit
Getting sick from everyone around me

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A lot to unpack here this week… not really… was only painting a picture of a dystopian existence… the one that exists between my mind and the reality that I walk through every day… I started watching Fargo recently… the television show… not the movie… the movie is lovely… if you haven’t seen it… you should… also the Big Lebowski is a wonderful movie that you should all see or have seen… where was I going with this?… oh… I started watching the first season of Fargo… by that I mean the first episode… pretty good so far… really had nowhere to go with this…

Still reading comics… still listening to an obscene amount of music… just doing the normal stuff I suppose… can’t complain… and I hope you all are feeling the same or better… have a great weekend… see you Sunday for a special project… Hope all is well… 

Ambrose…. (WordPress wants to auto correct my name to Ambrosia… I’m feeling a change coming along…  probably not though… I’m not cool enough to pull a name like that off…) 

ThreadlessAmazon…. 

Something Different

Before

In death we find peace
But what about the rest
What about here and now
Tranquility in sin
Blood for passion
Passion for blood
Drinking until you don’t remember
Forgetting all the times before
Do it once more
Over and over a repeating
Kaleidoscope of bullshit
Heard it all before
Excuses becoming useless
Yet I still have more
My condition is human
But why does it feel so
So, painful and relentless
In death we find peace
In death we find whatever it is
We never had before

 

Settling In

Awaken to a sickening feeling inside my chest
Worried, afraid I won’t be able to let this rest

Choking, I can’t breathe
Knowing, know this could be the end
Constricting, inflicting every time
Is it all in my head
Twenty eight and I’m already dead
Worried from worrying
About all the shit going on in my head
Scarred, destroyed
From my own self destruction
Is this all I will ever be
Is this all I will ever become
Trapped inside this solitude
Isolating feeling of being human
Depression, this won’t end
A wave that comes crashing over and over again

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Still digging at the past… a past way I once felt every day… living in the middle of a depression storm can be… well depressing… some of us have it worse than others… each of us has to find our answer… but no matter how bad it ever gets know that there is always an answer… there is always hope… we are only here on this planet for one thing… make it to the next day… no day will ever be perfect… you will never get everything you ever wanted… but if we try hard enough we can get most of it… we can have perfect memories… 

Also, I’m not 28 anymore… wish I was… : ( … growing old sucks… enjoy every moment… good or bad… not all of them will be here for long… it goes fast… it is easy to get stuck on an idea… on a feeling… and it can take everything we have to break away from it… we’ve all been there… if there is anything I have learned since starting this website… it is that we have all been there… 

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Knocked The Wind Right Out Of Me

Stress seems to effect us at different volumes and different values. Not everyone can handle what it takes anymore. The time they change things even if the game is the same. Used to be about survival now it’s about living. About doing nothing. The goals were once simple. Now the goal is to convoluted, to simple to comprehend. It wasn’t that long ago that there wasn’t enough people. Now there are too many. Positive or negative doesn’t matter laziness still poisons the well. Today nothing ever gets done because someone else will take care of it. Someone else will do it don’t worry. Who the fuck is this someone else?

Oh, I forgot it was me. Forty hours a week to make up for all the mistakes, all the things no one wants to do. This place drags me down. Consumes me and leaves me broken. All I hear is complaints about the shit that I don’t do because I’m too busy doing everything else. Poorly managed is an understatement. I think they train them to be stupid. Ignorant to the task at hand. Most of them have never been me and I don’t me in a figurative sense. I mean they have never done what I have to do, what I have done. Pull these worthless fucks right out of college. Cool you can read. I can read too. I can read the units, the hours, the labor, and all the bull shit. I can feel what they are saying and what they are saying is that we are fucked. 

I often wonder if I was dropped on my head too many times or not enough. Decisions are made with the littlest of thought. The thought process. “I’m going to need you to wipe your feet before you enter the mud puddle. Hate for the dirt to get dirty.” I need this that and the other. All I need is for you to get the fuck out of the way. Smile and loss your fucking mind. Lead, follow, or get the fuck out of the way isn’t just catchy it is true. Instead fuck ups happen constantly and the only way is to keep letting them happen. They have the staff so stressed out and paranoid that they run around chasing a chicken with its head cut off. Stop chasing the chicken. Come back when the damn thing is dead. I get that dinner needs to be made. Trust me I fucking get it, but the plates are dirty, the preps not done, and the pot is still heating up. We’ve got time. 

God forbid you communicate that said idea is a bad one. Excommunicated from the conversion from there on. Condemned until it of course fucks up then you are to blame for its failure. I try to stay out of it. To stay away from it, but they drag you in. They need someone to blame, to take the fall but I can’t let go. I hang on their every word. Loyalty buried deep within my very existence. Stupidity running right beside it. Trust no one and no one can let you down. If only I could live by the words that I preach. If I could live by the way it was supposed to be.

What happened to do the job? What happened to hard work? Gave a way to reward the weak and bury the strong. I see that it pays to do nothing at all, but I can’t stand by and watch it fall. To watch everything I have worked for go to shit. Watching it all fail makes me feel as though I failed. Whether I get paid or not. The world should not work this way, but somehow it does. Somehow the world keeps turning and all I can think is fuck it all. 

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I’ve lost touch with reality, with the truth… The harsh reality that none of this actually matters… Forgot the meaning of life is nothing more than seeing the next day… One day I will lose as we all will, but taking on all this stress is only moving me closer to that day… Not closer to where I want to be… Finding that balance can take a life time… Don’t let it… The sooner the better… In the mean time hug a family member… your children… and take a moment for yourself…

If the world isn’t going to work the way that it should… Why should we?… If we can’t beat them… do what they do… and do it better… laughing all the way to my grave… fuck’em… 

5 Words I Like and One I Hate… Faggot

Vicarious, kaleidoscope, duality, but, and nihilism. Well, that was easy and now for the one, I don’t.

No one can remember the very first time they hear a word. I thought I did and I was wrong. This was intended to be a one part story, but it quickly turned into a two-part story. One I will have to tell in reverse.  As I was saying no one knows the first time they hear a word, but they can remember when the first time a word impacted them. Faggot is one of those words. The first time I heard it. The first time I felt its impact. I was walking home from school.

I was in the 6th grade so maybe all of twelve or possibly going on thirteen. There I was minding my own business walking home on the side of the road. At the time I lived in this tiny town in Illinois. A farming town not far from St Louis. This has nothing to do with anything. I’m just setting the location of the incident. Don’t be fooled ignorance can be found anywhere on this planet. Walking through the grass on the side of the road when a car of teenagers drove by. One of the assholes screams faggot at the top of their lungs.

The sound of his voice was enough to lock this memory in my brain for a lifetime. At the time I didn’t even know what the word meant. What he meant by it. But I didn’t need to. The word itself was enough for me to know it meant something awful. So vulgar in its delivery. Slammed into my face as though it had anything to do with who I was or what I was doing. I didn’t need to know that it had anything to do with being gay. I didn’t need to know that word’s meaning to know that I never wanted to use it.

Being young, being scared, being confused by this strange and awful word I began to cry. I ran the rest of the way home with tears down my face. My mom recognized something was wrong as soon as I entered the house. She went into to full-on mother mode. “What happened? Are you okay? Who do I need to kill?” It took a moment for me to get it out.  I didn’t want to say it let alone hear it again.

“Some kids in a car called me faggot.”
“Well, are you?”
“No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. Words don’t have meaning unless you give them one. So some assholes called you a faggot. They are assholes. You gave them the power to let them hurt you. All they were trying to do was hurt you and you let them. People are going to say horrible things. They might even say them about me. Doesn’t matter unless you let it matter.”
I stopped crying.

That’s the thing about words. They don’t really mean anything. Placeholders for a feeling, a thought to cut like a knife. But no one said you had to let them cut you. I carry that message with me every time someone tries to stab me with their vulgar, easy exit words. I hear their bullshit attempts to piss me off and I laugh. I’m the biggest faggot on planet earth. What else you got?

Part 2

Words have a way of haunting you even when you think that they don’t. I said and I thought the first time I heard the word faggot was when those kids drove by. Maybe that was the first time I thought it impacted me as a person, but during the writing, I realized it wasn’t. I thought about just forgetting the whole thing. Thought about pushing it back down like I had for most of my life, but why should I?

Digging deep into the back of my mind. The first time that the word took something away from me was when I was a child. No idea what age I was. I could ask my mom, but we don’t talk about that time of our lives. It was during the reign of my mom’s second husband. The dark times of my life. The times I try to forget, but the memories always come back up. Stories for another time possibly.

As a child, I was really into gymnastics. No idea why, but I was. Maybe I saw it on the Olympics or something. My mom signed me up for classes and away I went. Every Thursday I got to learn something new for my new passion in life. Until one Thursday my mom couldn’t drop me off for my class. So my stepfather had to. Had to take some precious time out of his busy schedule of being an asshole to drop me off. Looking back after all the shit he put us through it doesn’t surprise me what he said when he picked me up and an hour later. “Did the little faggot enjoy his gymnastic class?”

I cried. He hit me like he always did. “Toughen up.” I don’t remember much after that. I know that I didn’t go to any more classes. I know that my mom always wondered why I lost interest in it and I’m sure I wondered, just like I do today, why I didn’t say anything.

 

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If you see something… say something… If something is happening… say something… I know the hardest thing we can do in this world is ask for help… I’ve lived through it myself… My mom got it the worst… I don’t blame her for what happened during that period.. but I do wish she had asked sooner… No one deserves to be abused verbally or physically… it is not normal and it is not okay…

Get Help 

Anymore

The nights grow darker and the years get longer. The longer my nightmare stretches the more I know that I am not alive. Everything is the start of something else. I can’t think of a worse place to live. Yet I have to stay. The heat it lingers throughout the night. The nights have become my life in more ways than one. The isolating darkness takes a hold of my soul, of my life. My will is dictated by a sunless sky. The stars they shine bright but I don’t care for the moon or the stars. A backdrop to my existence.

I don’t miss the sun. The more I think about it. I don’t know what I miss about my life before. I don’t know anything anymore. A vampire in a vampireless world. The impending joy of anyone who talks to me annoys me more than I care to explain. I wish things were different, but if they were I would miss how they were. My I don’t care attitude is all I have become. It has consumed me beyond anything I recognize anymore.  Consumed me body and soul. I no longer care as I embrace what I am becoming. The blood flows and the heart pumps, and that is all anyone cares about.

Feelings only make this harder than it needs to be. I do this to myself. I do this by choice. Things could always be worse. Things could always be better. I could live a normal life even at night. Laziness is all this is. Self-loathing is all I have left. Some part of me still exists in here. In my head. I try to strangle it. Put it down, but it only comes back once again. My life is my will and my choice. Do I really believe this or am I just trying to justify the circumstances? I’m not sure what I believe in anymore. Is there a God?

I am no longer sure of that either. I’m not sure if I ever believed in such things. I guess by now you could say I am an atheist, but what do titles every really mean? We give titles and labels to things that don’t matter or need them. Above all things I am human. What that means anymore is lost on me. The days are nights and the nights are days, and I am more backward than when I began this path. Anymore everything is not what it means. Happiness is nothing more than an idea, a trick of the brain, and I can’t fathom happiness on the happiest day. I can barely hang on to an idea for longer than I need it. I use each thought to get to the next one and before I know it I have forgotten what it was all about.

The idea is to be myself but I have forgotten who I am. A name, a person, alive in less ways than one. How much longer until none of this matters? How much longer until I become an idea long forgotten? I once cared but I don’t care anymore.

 

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Update on last month… So I never got around to my proposed piece of 5 Words I like and One I Hate… Well, I started it and then I realized something about the word I chose… So that opened more wounds than intended… I will be writing more about that, but needless to say, it changed the whole piece I was working on in my head… Hopefully, I can get to it this month… 

I’ve entered some stories and poems to a few literary magazines and publications… Inspired by my friend Eric… Couldn’t let him hog all the rejections… so hopefully, that pans out… Probably won’t know for another six months, but I will keep you posted if it actually happens… More so if it doesn’t… haha… Which means that there will be some Friday story reposts… Deal with it Fox…  : )

Still peddling my wares over at Amazon and Threadless… click the links for more info…

Dictated but not read…
Ambrose 4/4/18

From the Journal of the Devil

Aug. 13th, 2009
I just witnessed yet another one of those late night infomercials. I must get it. The item in question is a pizza cutter that makes the perfect slices every time. This beauty goes by the name the Perfect Slice. So simplistic I love it. For the low, low price of $9.99 plus shipping and handling, I could be cutting my way to pizza heaven. How could I go wrong? Worst case scenario it becomes another prop I can use to frighten my victims will. I could raise the scissor-like device and threaten to cut little triangles out of their ball sack. The applications would be limited when it comes to actual torture. I’m sure that it can’t cut too deeply through the skin and there is no way it is getting through bone. Though if I modify it with a better hinge it could have the potential to do more damage, but then I’m into it for way more than the asking prices. There is also its basic function of cutting pizza and that could be helpful at a dinner party. I’m excited at the possibilities, but I don’t think it can live up to my last late night purchases. The Tri-Saw which has to be the most amazing device I have ever purchased. I really couldn’t ask for a better product. Three counter spinning blades rotating at 5500 mps gets my dick hard just thinking about it. This amazing saw can cut through most metals with ease once you purchase the Cut Anything replacement blades. Which of course I purchased because when you need to cut through a bone you want a perfect cut every time. Also, the stability of the Tri-Saw is second to none. There’s no jerking or pulling like there is with most saws. Plus it is handheld and portable. The miter saw I was using before was just too bulky and awkward. Not to mention loud and there are only so many new house projects I can lie about before the neighbors realize I haven’t fixed a thing. But with the Tri-Saw there is barely any noise. It does, however, lack a proper guard which can make quite the mess out of dismembering a body. But with this hobby, it seems to be unavoidable anyways and nothing a well-manufactured tarp can’t handle. There is nothing like it in on the market today. The Tri-Saw gets my seal of approval like my other great purchases such as the All in One Super Blending Unit, Soil Extraordinaire, Fantastic Flavor Inserter, and the Dangler Tomato Planter. While other products can be utilized beyond their intended purpose. The Soil Extraordinaire is for pure entertainment. Soil Extraordinaire was designed to feed water into plants as they need it. A reserve reservoir for those long business trips or the lazy ass who couldn’t be bothered to water their plants. It has the quite opposite effect if the product is stabbed into the whore’s neck. Granted some of the blood does make its way into the small hand-blown globe that acts as the reservoir, but this is mostly due to the pure force of the blood coming from their neck. The best technique is to enter at an angle so that the blood has a better chance of actually doing this. Then in order to save the blood from spilling all over the place, I have to gently remove the Soil Extraordinaire from the victim’s neck, and flip it so that the sharp end is pointing up. There is a real art to it all. Though if I am feeling lazy it is much easier to fill the product the old fashion way with a knife and a small incision. Either way works, but then I can take and put the blood filled globes in any potted plant that I have around the house. The blood doesn’t help them in any way. In fact, it mostly destroys them over time. Too much iron in the blood maybe? Really their only purpose is for me to have a discrete way of showing off my blood collection. Waste not want not. Plus there is something about having incriminating evidence stashed around the house that really gets me going. A major drawback to the Soil Extraordinaire is that the cheap shitty glass breaks way too easily. I have to make sure I stab the stem of the Soil Extraordinaire perfectly into the bitch’s neck or it snaps off into a million tiny little pieces on her collarbone. All of this creates an insidious mess that I have to clean up later. It took a reasonable amount of practice and quite a few Soil Extraordinaire to perfect the whole technique. The first girl I must have stabbed her at least six times before I got it to work. That’s about thirty-five dollars in globes alone. This is where the added value comes kicking in. At five dollars a globe it is much cheaper to replace the Soil Extraordinaire than it is to use quality materials. But even if the stem breaks or the globe itself, not all is lost because I can still use the leftover pieces to stab randomly all over their body. Another fun trick that I like to do whenever I’m not in a poetic blood and flowers kind of mood is to take the blood filled globes and smash it over their head. If their mouth isn’t gagged, neighbors on vacation, I like to watch as the blood slowly makes its way into their mouths. They pit and choke as they try to find a way to get it out, but more and more as the little shards stick out of their foreheads. The scene turns quite hilarious if left alive for a long enough time as they begin to vomit up their own blood all over themselves. The All in One Super Blending Unit on the other hand is a wonderful device from top to bottom. The name could have used some work, but it does do everything it promises and more. It really isn’t something I like to use during playtime but afterwards is a whole other thing. To quote the online website, “The units unique shape design circulates food with so much force and speed that it can do any job in 5 seconds or less.” So impressive. In the case of cooked human flesh this amazing little device can chop, dice, or mince me into flavor heaven in not one, not two, not even four seconds, but just three seconds. For the perfect human topping on nachos, in omelets, or to just sprinkle in my mouth. This little fucking machine even comes with a cookbook for other great recipe ideas. Of course I have to just replace parts of the recipe with cooked human pieces. Marinating chunks of human used to be a real bitch before one extraordinary night I came across the Fantastic Flavor Inserter while using the All in One Super Blending Unit to prepare my favorite midnight snack, human quesadillas or hum dillas as I like to call them. I had the Fantastic Flavor Inserter operator in stitches with a story about one of my many horrible attempts at making the perfect garlic “chicken.” Luckily for me the operator was laughing so hard she couldn’t hear the moans of some stupid bitch I brought home that night. Let’s just say she never got to enjoy the Fantastic Flavor Inserter like I have or the sunrise on that particular morning. I however did get to enjoy that amazing sunrise and I must say there is nothing more enjoyable than a brain shake at dawn. I haven’t been able to find a useful purpose for the Dangling Tomato planter, but it does grow very tasty tomatoes in just a few short weeks.