A Notice of Change…

It has been one crazy six months… I have been having a blast writing every month, every week, and every day for those of you have stuck with me… I will be taking the month of February off… To work on my book and to think of more exciting stories to tell you in the coming year… What that means is that I won’t be posting any new stories or blog pieces… I will be posting some of the most liked stories for the last six months, new Broken Thoughts, and Poetry though… 

This is only temporary so I can get ahead of the curve… I will still be visiting blogs, answering comments, and be around in general… So that is why I am calling it a change rather than a break… I will be back to my regular schedule for March…

Thank you so much for following, reading, commenting, and being here with me this past six months… I appreciate each and every one of you… each and every day…

Layne Ambrose
1/30/18 

 

One more thing before I go

How Ugly It Truly Is….

“Working is how life passes you by. Time itself passes you by. Relationships pass you by. It is only so long until everything passes you by and you are left with nothing or no one. There are so many aspects to this country and money seems to be the biggest one. We all have to make money no matter the culture. But what do we become when we make money our culture? We make the money match the time? Money can always be earned, but the time? Days spent unconscious as life passed by. So I can pay the bills on time, afford the drinks to keep me going, so me and mine can live the life we want to live. Which looking back was never the life we wanted to live. It wasn’t the life we dreamed about for ourselves or you. It wasn’t much of a life at all. In my opinion, life is nothing more than this ever passing time. Since as long as long as I could remember life has just been going on. Whether I was part of it or not. Whether I did the right thing or not. The amount of control and freedom you think you have is how little of both you actually have. Nothing is free. We all pay a price. Whether it is our bodies or the very soul we think we have. Listen to me rambling like the old man I have become. You didn’t come to visit me to hear the ramblings of an old man. You came here to make peace with yourself. Get right with God or whatever you kids call it these days. I’ll admit I like these visits except for your need to want to escape.”

He looks up from his phone, “Dad that’s not how it is.” He goes back to his phone. “Bullshit, you don’t think I’ve been you? Nothing you’ve done or said is anything I haven’t already done, said, or thought. The subject has changed but the words will always stay the same. Humanity is in an endless cycle. No two ways about it. The meaning of life isn’t to live it is to keep going,” I huff. “Have you been taking you Meds?” He asks the phone. “Of course I have been taking my medication. They don’t shut my brain down. If anything they amplify my mind in this useless shell of what I once was. Keep death from knocking on my door. If anything I should stop taking them. Haven’t you been listening?” Have you ever listened? My life has been wasted on this pursuit of nothingness.” I look down upon my wheelchair. Look at my broken useless body. “Here I sit telling you the same thing I was told by my father then and he was told before as well in what could be called the cycle of life. Since the dawn of time and maybe even before then. Hell for all I know the god damn animals are telling each other the same thing,” my voice raises. “Calm down. What’s the point of this speech Dad?”

“The point, the point is to not waste time. To not look back and regret the time wasted on needless things. If you are going to do something, anything, do it because you want to. Don’t do it because you are told too.” He looks up from his phone once again, “That’s not how the world works.” He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you again in a couple of weeks. Let me know if you need anything.” He hugs me as he leaves.  It bothers me to know that he does it because he is expected to. Not because he could give a damn, but it is my fault in the end. Never was there always had something. Time is a beautiful thing until you realize just how ugly it truly is.

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Staying Down

My mind is going a mile a minute
A minute a mile and I have to remember
This is only a symptom
Of something that I have created
I wish I could forget or maybe remember
Not everything has to have a reason
Heavy-handed and light-headed
I miss the days where none of this mattered
Picking my words wisely, won’t know
Which ones will be my last
Though I kind of figured
The way things are, the way they are going
It might be sooner than expected

Thoughts in My Head

When the world ends
There won’t be anything left to say we were here
But I’m sure somehow, some way
I’ll be staring at your face for all eternity
Your demon-like eyes and your poisonous thighs
Will all, but warm me by the fire
So cold I will still be, that none of this
Will ever seem like it truly exists
Trapped in a wake
Trapped in an illusion
It doesn’t need a name but
Most people call it hell
I can feel your newly developed spines
Piercing the skin, digging deeper
Your cold dead fingers latch onto my soul
I know now that you will never let go
I told myself it was okay at first
But now I wish I could cut and run
Trapped in my mind
Trapped in my head
Most people call it a nightmare
I’m left calling it home

 

Broken Up Thoughts – Child Like

Things have changed. I have changed yet I am still stuck between child and adult. Gridlocked between wanting to be my own person and doing what I’m told. I’m so depressed I just feel like giving up. Child like thoughts still laced within my mind. The thoughts, the train of thought too hard to shake. The ideas burning through my mind. What’s the point in fighting if you can’t win? My life is descending into a lost cause. A hopeless excuses to wake up every morning. The slope gets steeper and steeper each day as more and more shit piles up at the top. If only I could Hide under a rock and never come out. A grave of despair. Disappear in a way that I’m still alive, but no one would even know I’m here. If only I could, I would. So sick of this and so sick of that. An endless wave of adolescent thoughts in an adult body. Need to grow up, but when and how?

We give it up
We give it all up in blood
Until we are nothing
Never enough for some or no one at all
We turn it over
We turn it over with our souls
Until we have nothing left
Never enough for most or anyone at all
We work it all
We work it all with our lives
Until it is all we are
Never enough so we come back for more

I was forced into a room full of strangers. Eight hours straight of waiting in line, on a plane, and yet another chair. Only to be placed in a place I did not know with people I don’t know. I was so lost I didn’t know what to do. Disappeared into the air. It didn’t take long before I started drinking like there was no tomorrow, and many nights I wished for the words to be true. I didn’t know what to do. I was done. Felt like a child in this adult body. Parents are entrusting in the idea that you will always be their child. They will always want you to act as one no matter what your age. I think it has to do with a self-conscious need to also feel young. To feel as though yes I am an adult, but my children are still kids so I’m not that old. Farthest from the truth. At some point the child too has to become an adult. An equal to both his or her parents and their peers. With adult needs and adult demands, and yes it is hard to let go. But is has to be done. My mother refuses to as I imagine most mothers do. It creates a conflict of interests for my generation and the last. Trapped between nothing and something. Act like an adult, but you are still a child. A sense of identity is hard to accomplish under the watch full eyes of our parents. A problem propelled by the increase of age. Life expectancy is tearing down the fabric of our society. As a child of this generation and a human being I can’t say whether I’m for or against it. I can’t lie and say I don’t need the help. At the same time I don’t want it. Feel trapped within my own skin. Ungrateful for not wanting to give in.

Wearing myself thin, dead skin mask
Stretched so tight, who am I supposed to be
If I can’t be you
Envision myself to be better
Lies I tell myself to get by
Broken boned and everything I despise
Two more days and I’ll be okay
Keep telling myself the same old shit
Hasn’t worked yet, what’s the meaning of insanity
Beating my head against the wall
Soon all the thoughts will flow out
Soon all that is wrong will be right again
Long drawn out thoughts
With no meaning at all

 

Broken Up Thoughts

Fissures and cracks within my soul
Where they come from
I’m afraid I do not know
Relentless and forthcoming
I keep swimming
Even though I know I’m drowning
My body wants to stop, my mind says fuck it all
If I gave up now
What would be the point at all

 

Love is this thing we’ll
Never get back
Lies just fill up the cracks

 

Nothing feels like it used to
Everything feels as though it is something I have to do
Never ending list of shit I have to sit through
Becoming so bitter, became an old man running out of youth
Time is eternally ticking away
Slowly running out of reasons to live
I have the basics, but even those are becoming obsolete
Dragging my soul through day to day
Dancing through midnight, marching to the grave
Autopilot enabled and there’s no reason to think
Nothing feels like it used to
Lost hope that anything new will come along
Even as the world around me changes rapidly
No reason to believe that I will ever change
As I grow more and more obsolete

This is all about nothing more than notes on the subject. The subject of isolation. The subject of despair. Am I lost? What about me gives up the answers so easily? Signaling words with fire. Following the smoke only to know it goes right back here all along. My constant complaining has become something insignificant to how I feel on the subject of my soul. The drinking helps get past these made up feelings. Locked in a box. Clawing at the sides. Screaming for air until my last breath. Hope no one is dumb enough to let me out. A play on words. A play on the meaning of not knowing at all. A long walk to nowhere at all. Told to enjoy the view through swollen eyes. Whoever said I didn’t enjoy the pain? Gnawing on glass. Dripping blood on the thoughts. A bloody smile that should tell you all you need to know. I’m enjoying this more than I lead on. Chewing on glass is all I’ve ever need after all.

 

And so ends a long list of Broken Up Thoughts… I try to find some synergy to the thoughts… Either by a word or a line…. But today seemed like a perfect day to live up to the name….  Not everything in my head makes sense at all times… Not even sure where I am going with this statement… I took a few days off to get a handle on what it is that I want to say… Three days later and still no answers… Even went for a hike out in the woods behind my house… The isolating barrier I put between me and the rest of the world… Peeking through the curtains made of dead leaves and broken branches… I have to say… Not for me…. Maybe I’ve always been destined to keep my distance from a place I don’t understand… Who knew I had so much to say about nothing at all….

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Not the Answer

Sex is an ugly thing
Do what you have to do
Then it’s all over
I write because I have to
Then it’s all over
I’d stay and talk
But I have to write
This all over
A process with meaning
Still no answers
Atheism is a question
Is there a God?
Or am I only alone
Sold a million books
Reprised the question
Why am I doing this?
If it’s not worth the effort
You think you know
And so do I
But I’m a liar
Do what I have to do
To get between your thighs
I am an animal
But then why do I feel so bad
Did what I had to do
This is no lie
This is no question
I am what I am
Is not the answer

Mountain of Questions

The white picket fences have been torn down
From the post to the ground
It all lays flat all around
The existence of dreams proves
There is something more to you and me
The clothes have all but come off
From our heads to our toes
They lay flat on the floor
The fact that we aren’t disgusted yet proves
There is something more to you and me
The marriage is all but gone
Divorce tore everything
Right the fuck out of the ground
The anger between us proves
There is so much more to you and me

They say fire lead to life
The what did love bring to the picture
Some could guess but the true answer is death
We pretend it’s funny because it is
You know it’s sad
But it’s true
If you hold your breath then maybe
That dizzy, sickness feeling won’t go away
Walk it off, the pain subsides after a while
If you know anything about bottles
You’ll know they don’t leave any answers
Only a mountain of questions

Two more poems from my first poetry collection… And Other Things From This Time… This weeks theme is sex/love… No reason… There is no reasoning with this madness if you haven’t figured that out yet… six months into this… Still no idea what I’m doing… Scratching at the walls?… 

 

Broken Up Thoughts (Vulgar)

Starting over once again
Here I am tell me what to do
I’m not sure why I am the way I am
Love the abuse I assume
Respect me for what I am not what you see
Asking the world to accept something that it can’t
Lost within the confines I set up myself
Built the wall only to rip it down for no reason at all
Waste of time
Standing for nothing yet pretending it makes me something
On the fence I suppose
Get me out of here, in my head
Too long of a vacation with nowhere to go
Locked away, deep inside
Sometimes saying something is saying nothing at all
So many words that I hate, use them over and over again
Bleeding ideas from my head
Forgive the fact I have nothing to say
Respect that I’ll try any ways

Most days I feel like killing myself. I don’t know what that says about my normal state of mind, but I’m guessing these feelings are on the wrong side of good. Pick myself up off the floor and keep going. I’m not going anywhere at a fast rate of speed and neither are these feelings. I try too hard for things that should come naturally. I try too hard for the things I think I want and half ass everything else. I have a mental disorder I think. I think I’m dumb or just stupid enough to not get it. By it I mean life. What is the point? To feel like this almost every day? I guess I’m succeeding in the end after all. Swimming in shit has been my life all along. A life line made of razor blades dangles in front of me. Should I take it or move on from these self-imposed feelings in my head?

Mix of emotions about how I feel
On one hand I care on the other
You could all burn in Hell
Damnation or something worse
Not sure, don’t care
It won’t matter once you’re all gone
Irresponsible, irregardless
Words don’t mean shit unless
You give them meaning
With love from my throne of broken bones
Forever condemned to live through your sins

How can we be more than half of the world’s population and still be in this kind of shit? Because men control much more than half of the world’s money. Money equals power, power equals control. We took the easy way out and now we have to take the long hard road to get to where we should have been all along. Is this sexist? It feels fucking sexist and I have been looking at it for over a year to try and make it not feel sexist. But I think I am trying too hard to make it not sexist that it is becoming sexist no matter what. Is it sexist to speak the truth? How does one judge something based solely on words and not actions? Am I a fucking sexist for caring if I might be one or for what I say? Women deserve better than the way we treat them, but some of it they do themselves. If you want to drive, fucking drive. If you want to wear something, fucking where it. Fuck anyone who tells you different. You be you and that is all that matters. .

Something Different

Stuck Choking On the Words

Surrounded in ash I begin to wonder
When this all had to end
Reflection of everything I hate
Your name tattooed on the inside of my skin
Hate to hate you any longer
If I could change one thing it wouldn’t be me
Self confidence in the worst of situations
Breaking open thoughts, looking for something
A memory of when this mattered
End of draft one, it is okay to turn away
A new level of dissatisfaction and regret
Blinded by a dying sun
The dark spots around your eyes permanently stuck
Don’t blame you for wanting more
Got nothing left to tell, if only my brain would shut up

 

A Crooked Smile For the Devil Inside Us All

I’m a fool for believing, I’m a fool for dreaming
A jester, a joke in my own head and yours
I tell lies to tell stories
Painted pictures of deceit
Yet what is there to believe
Our lives so dull though they still manage to cut
Like blades in our hearts, the blades in our backs
Slowly killing any real thoughts we have left
Work hard to work harder
Each day a testament of will
The hard part isn’t the work
The hard part is giving in
Dragging ourselves through sin
Blood on the tracks and I can’t resist
To keeping digging in
I wanted this more than it seems
An end to the beginning, a plot without a device
The words are deceitful but they feel so real

I wrote a children’s book called, “Who the Fuck Cares.” Looking for illustrators or anyone interested.