Something Different

Hurts

I can feel it
I can feel the spirit
Being sucked right out of me
Keep on going it whispers in my ear
Don’t grow up unless you have to
As if that was ever a choice
It cries, it won’t shut up
And it is now, right here
That I know at least
What is it that I really know
Don’t remember
Doesn’t matter
What’s the difference if you
Don’t remember at all
A past idea, a past reflection
Into nothing that makes sense
I’m choking and it hurts
I’m dying and it hurts
I’m living and it hurts
It all hurts

 

Same

The loneliness is isolating
When you stop to think about it
Your coldness though isn’t much different
When you’ve got nothing to say
Think about this every day
When I’m lost and on display
Each passing moment
Each everlasting gaze
Makes me realize nothings the same
Sometimes I wish it could all go away
Disappear without a trace
We could start over
But I know somehow, some way
It would only be the same

 

Broken Thoughts

I want to change the world, but I know it won’t matter. The wheel turns with or without me. The sands of time keep falling one by one whether I care to notice at all. I can’t take much more of this. This world’s retribution is too much to bare. A constant dragging of my body across a bed of nails. My flesh tears apart, but yet somehow stays attached. The bones of my broken body mended together with lies and dreams. My blood is all but gone. My heart still beats. Beats to the rhythm of my death. Slow, painful, and everlasting.

We add only to take away
If I take away all that I have become
Would I only be adding to what I’ve done
Taken away from what I become
An empty shell, Hollowed out heart
A lie from the start
Accept my apologies
I knew not what I have done
Only that it would destroy you
Extinguish this thoughtless idea
Sincerely everything I wish

How soon is too soon to know this is an ever passing moment? These feelings won’t last and then I’ll be left with nothing much. Regret and sadness mostly. Sit and smile. Pretend not to suffer ninety-five percent of the day. This is life. This is how most of us live. Wish I could drink the feeling away like everyone else. Like my heroes, but it does nothing for me. Magnifies my problems, my issues in such a way that it makes me feel even worse than before. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough. Could be my problem all along. How hard should we be trying to live?

I want to dance in the darkness of me and you
Our shadows create a cryptic sense of self
Our shadows in the moon light
Our shadows, strangling each other tonight
Ideas of love twisted with each passing moment
Your final breathes
Mean more with everything left unsaid

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Long Before

The blood it drips as it falls
The life fails as it goes on
The end is near
Though it has been all along
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
The soul fades as it goes
The death grows as it goes
The end is near
Though it has been all along
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
A heartbeat that no longer seems to feel
Destroy the will and what became left
Soulless but who really knows before it is too late
The difference between life and death
Is nothing more than a heartbeat
The difference between me and you
Is nothing more than a heartbeat
The loneliness, the sadness, the happiness
Is nothing more than a heartbeat away
The heartbeats from within my chest
The life flows from out my wrist
The end is near but it was there long before

 

List of Words

Some, days, I, just, wish, the, world, would, die, an, all, this, pain, could, go, away, I, dream, in, blood, I, dream, in, liquid, secretly, watching, the, human, race, disappear, discretely, having, a, hand, in, every, death, easily, amused, toxically, confused, I, always, assumed, everyone, felt, like, me, with, a, gun, to, my, head, in, the, middle, of, times, square, not, important, unless, your, famous, each, life, started, the, same, just, some, are, worth, more, in, the, end, listen, to, me, I, sound, like, a, commi, how, un-American, how, un-human, starving, for, attention, dying, for, just, a, mention, of, my, existence, easily, amused, toxically, confused, easily, amused, some, days, I, just, wish, the, world, would, die, and, I, could, assist, lighter, and, can, of, gasoline, in, hand, I, want, to, watch, this, world, burn, watch, the, survivors, crawl, through, the, ash, and, fuck, it, up, once, again, again, again, we, are, the, cockroaches, of, the, universe, universally, fucked,  begging, for, god, begging, for, any, thing, prayers, un-answered, beings, being, slaughtered, starving, surviving, dying, this, is, the world, you, live, in,  I, will, just, keep, taking, my, pills, cause, you’re, to, easily, amused.

 

Hello once again. Two more poems from my book And Other Things From This Time. Not the happiest pair of poems, but equally showcasing the two sides of depression.  List of Words is actually originally from Drinking Bleach and is one of the first things I wrote for that book. It is older and there for I am older since I wrote it. Assuming I aged at all or grew up since then. You can be the judge, but as much as I enjoy the nostalgia of it…. The world is in a very different place than it was when I wrote it. A sadder place I would have to say. Violence is never the answer, but I whole heartily believe there is a difference between venting frustration and acting it out. Anger, rage, and hurt are all normal emotions. Like all emotions good or bad they fade….What I’m trying to say is that now that I am older it reads very differently than when I wrote it. Writing to me is very therapeutic. It frees up thoughts or feelings that I have to make room for positive ones… I debated whether to include it, but I think that it is good, interesting, and different. Even if it isn’t true or a positive way to go about feelings such as anger, rage, or hurt. 

I’m saying  all of this not because I feel guilty, but in many ways writing is very unique. There are few mediums of expression where you can be in a person’s head. Even if it is only for a second or a moment. Was I angry when I wrote the piece? Yes. Can I remember why I was? Not for all the money in the world, but I was… And I think that is something we can all relate too on some level. Which is also how I feel about Long Before. The difference between everything is a heartbeat so, keep your heart beating and all will work itself out. 

 

Broken Up Thoughts

I haven’t had an original idea for a while. Which sucks. My mind is like mush going over the same old stuff. Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. They say I had a voice. They say I had one once. Now it has disappeared again into the abyss of fuck. Fuck it all. What does it matter? Tired of asking questions with no answers. I could be anything yet I sit as nothing. I want to burn the world down. Destroy every last drop of existences. Yet I’d still feel nothing. I have no contempt for myself or others. I say I have nothing and I mean it. Words are haunting whether truth or lies. I despise everyone in my life. I hate them all because they are selfish. I hate them all because they are me without trying. In other news I sold more books than I ever have. So that’s something.

 

It often seems as though dreams are nothing more than a way to get us through life. We all have dreams. What we want to become or get done with our lives. But I don’t know anyone who has actually seen them through. Goals change over time. One day we want one thing and the next something different. Dreams are where past, present, and future collide because they very often want the same things. It’s as though we are at war with ourselves as well as those around us. They say that to succeed you need to surround ourselves with people who can help you. What about those people like me that can’t stand others? Are we set to fail then? Are my goals and dreams nothing more than a waste of time? I often wonder if I should just be happy with what I have. A niche market of being an asshole. Of course you hear those fantastic stories of people who have made it and you set yourself up to fail once again. I’m tired of failing. There is nothing there anymore but sadness and pain.

 

Devils in the details
But what do you do when you’ve all failed?
Listening to your complaints
On a day-to-day basis
Has become insane
Feeling your thoughts is all that I have
But now it’s filled with too much pain
Sensory overload
My mind will explode
The devils in the details
But God failed so long ago

 

Wasting time until I can get by
Wasting away as if all is the same
I hate myself but I hate you more
Every passing moment is like an eternity
But it is as though time slips away from me
I could do more but it seems I do less
Was once told that I am depressed
Maybe I’m stretched too thin
If I could focus then I could understand
Wasting time until it is too late
Wasting away as if all is the same

 

I watch the sky
Even in the dark
Even on the darkest night
Watch it bleed
The truth is so hard to find
Deeply hidden behind
Each and every lie
Some where in the darkness
Just beyond the light
Lies something so true
No one can separate the lies

 

What’s left to say after all of that? Suffering alone with depression can be hard.. I don’t have it as bad as a lot of people I know… But I do have the anxiety and the highs and lows… Maybe that is where my writing comes from? Or maybe I’m just fucked in the head…. Who knows… It is fun to joke around about, but really that is a symptom of something I’m sure… No one can tell you how to live your life, but that doesn’t mean no one isn’t there to help you…. Sometimes it is family and friends, and sometimes it is someone else.. I don’t follow organized religion, go figure, but what they all have in common is being there for each other… I think that is important whether there is someone watching over us or not…

 

A Lie (Novel) Preview

Beautiful Liar

I use to be like you, naïve and care free
I use to wish for a dream come true and all that shit
but I am more real than I once thought I truly was
Nightmares and dreamscapes only come true in your sleep
Awake all there is, is tragedy and wishful thinking
The streets are filled with the slowly dying
and the buildings and offices are filled with the damned
My eyes were once closed, but now they are always open
I drain the blood from the streets and sweep up the dead
The only job I have left
The only job I was condemned

 

Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep in my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretend to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeve less shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeve less arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heart beat pounding in my head not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

 

Last preview of the month and it is a long one… Like most things in my life this is nothing but fiction… Except Big Daddy is real.. He walks among us… Don’t fear the reaper… Fear the stench… Until tomorrow… Best of luck….

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Know What I Mean

Do you know what I mean
When I say I am living a lie
No longer mad when I know I should be
Passion is all but a thing of the past
Romance is all but nothing at all
How long do you stare at someone
And realize they are the worst person of all
Is there an etiquette
For cutting loose
The buckling ties that bind?
Do you know what I mean
When I say I am lost and alone
I don’t think that you really do
I think you think everything is still okay
Whatever that means at this point
Such an awful thought to think about
Such a funny after taste after all
For something that was supposed to last forever
I said I loved you
But I guess you didn’t
If you know what I mean

 

If It Mattered

It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t for all the guilt
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t all that I could think about
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t an addiction
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t for all the thoughts of suicide
It wouldn’t be so bad
If I could only do it in the end
It wouldn’t be so bad
If I would only leave it but I can’t

 

Day One

Everything is so out of focus
Wish I could forget
Though right now, this second
Everything seems to only speak of regret
Do you know what I mean
Of course you don’t because I’m not you
And you’re not me
Dancing in the darkness, dancing in the moonlight
A mirror image of something that is not there
I laugh myself to sleep
Better than crying but I never said
There was no tears
They hysteria of it all is a thin line
Between madness and you
Today my life changed
For better or worse has yet to be seen
Like when the actions of the past
Combine, mix with thoughts of the future
All things lead to dead
But how we get there is unknown as of yet

Went with three poems for this week… The middle one was short so it only seemed fair… This weeks theme was love… Isn’t it always though?… Well if you haven’t heard… My book is available on Kindle… I feel just as dirty as you think I am… Dreams and shit…. Thank you for stopping by and until tomorrow… Best of luck…

 

Special Broken Up Thoughts (Vulgar)

This is a special Broken Up Thoughts this week. Posting two days earlier because I have an even more special post for Wednesday. Not going to give away what it is, but it is pretty cool and very something different. I hope you check it out.  Ambrose  11/6/17

 

The thunderous stomping of God’s feet surrounds me
Consumes my, my mortal soul
Broken down by treacherous, Broken down by the sin
Her cries ring out across the walls of the tomb
Condemn for believing any of this could be true
Listen for the sound, the sounds of thunder
Breaking away icebergs on the plains
Shifting from one place to the next
Unmovable force from inside my head

 

Working out the reasons that none of this makes sense
Looking for a reason that I feel like shit
Consumed by all your selfish needs

 

“Vulgarity is nothing more than the mind telling the truth.”

 

Wiping your ass with the pages of the bible
Isn’t okay even for an atheist
A broken soul who has lost control
Judas may have had a point but still turned out wrong
Miss information can breed dirty rats
Cunts filled with sickness and death
Vulgar, I’m blatantly aware of my condemnation

 

“Windows 8 ran into some problems. It realized it was Windows 8. Would you like to send a report, so we can make Windows better?”

“Don’t see how this could help any. It seems the “better” you get the worst you get.”

 

Bit of religious randomness with a shitty Windows joke. Why not? I’m scratching my brain to think of something to say…. Have you picked up your copy of A Lie yet? It’s waiting with your name on it… In the mean time take care and good luck….