The Lights Have All Gone Out… Broken Thoughts…

Taken out of context the words become
Something else other than what they mean
Taken from the wrong point of view
One could say I’m painting a fucked up portrait of you
One could say almost anything
What I say, how you take it
Reading too far beyond the page
Stirring your own pot
Of self hatred and regret
Your own burden buried in your head

Took it for all it was worth…

The lights have all gone out
In the darkness this will survives
These broken thoughts could never
Escape the mind
The lights have all gone out
But somehow this all survives

Dragged it out as long as I could…

Suffocating under your own worth
Think this is about you then
What have you done?
A question to question what’s going on
Taken out of context is all we have left
Something else other than
The words that have been said
Taken from the wrong point of view
Is all we have left in this world
Filling you up with self doubt
Taking each shot until there’s nothing left
Take your fucking soul
As long as I know that it will hurt

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Well that was a fun trip down depression lane… the staff at Is That A Funeral?… wants me to talk more about my thoughts… well there you go… less is always more…

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Built Upon The Backs Of The Undead… Broken Thoughts…

Flashes of thoughts
Images in my head
Understood but then forgot
Could I get this feeling
Cut out of my brain
Write it down
Never the same
The feelings just
Come back
Again and again

You said something… Words resting inside my head…

Breaking bodies just to watch them bleed
Can you, can you reach me when
I’m so far away
Can you, can you save me when
I’m too far gone
Slitting throats just to watch them bleed
Can you, can you take me when
I’m so far away
Can you, can you please me when
I’m too far gone
Bleeding, driven, insane
Living, dying, gone away
Can you, can you help me when
There’s nothing left to save?

“They say we write about what we know. All I know is pain, discomfort, and a willingness to do it all again.”

Laying cold, been dead
Feel for a pulse but I can’t taste
Laying cold, a corpse from before
Looking for any signs of life
But I can’t see any heart inside
Laying cold, pieces scattered
Feel for movement but I can’t hear
Laying cold, what’s left
Looking for any signs of life
But I can’t see any soul inside
Been dead but I can’t taste
Signs of life but I can’t see any heart within
Pieces scattered but I can’t hear
What’s left without a soul within
Lying cold at my feet
Seems you’ve died to me

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Went through a depression this cycle… not sure if that was obvious… scrapping the floor of my mind… with my face… seems to be the only way I know how to say anything… is that a pattern or consistency?… dwelling on that for a moment… and the moment is over… a pattern of consistency… no one ever said I was deep… but dense?… you can dwell on that for me…

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Locked Inside My Own Head… Broken Thoughts…

So you said something
Didn’t happen again
What the hell am I to believe
My idea of you or the truth
Blinded by my own insecurities
How could anyone do this to you
Break you down
Place you and everything you could be
Into categories
Cutting you down until you fit
Their every need
Controlling everything from a distance
They can’t hear the words inside your head
How you felt what they meant

“Where do you draw the line between what is fiction and what is real?”
“Same as you draw any line. Pen to the paper and you just keep going. None of this is real. So very few things are real or the truth in this world. Images and thoughts or memories built up inside your head. Past actions nothing more than reflections of events you believed to have happen. Life is fiction.”
“Interesting way of looking at it.”
“How do you look at it?”

Digging a hole with your name on it
Call it a grave, call it a home
Call it all that you will know
Didn’t need all this need
Spoken in words that no one understands
Not a language but a tribal hatred from within
Burying was never the hardest part of this
Watching you die was only the beginning
Took long enough if you asked me
You couldn’t so you didn’t
Screaming at hollowed out bodies has taken a turn
These thoughts don’t go away
They only breed, manifest into different things

“Sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between love and violence. Intentions and actions, but in the end the two things are never the same.”

Knew at some point we’d have to meet face to face
That all of this would come to a head
Baseball bat or a kiss what’s the difference
When you’re bleeding out
Needful things consuming me
Eating away at my core
Toss me away until I have something to say
Spinning in circles
Tires burning down to the ground
Rubber left marks like blood streaks on the pavement
The place of your death

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Anyone enjoying these new title cards?

This piece was actually one whole thought… but it had too many themes to be a complete thought… the first thought break is actually from my forth coming novel… and the last thought break… is just a random thought I had at work… as most of these Broken Thoughts come from…

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Something Kind Of Sad About… Broken Thoughts…

Finding my purpose has always been
More than I can afford
Finding reason in this world
Broken tranquility
Meaning obsolete
Stuck in this place in time
Working towards my purpose has always been
More than I can afford
Working towards reasons this world
Isn’t broken
Lost without meaning
Stuck only in a place in time
Trapped against the wall
Pushing back
Muscles want to resist
The urge to give in

Want and need are never the same thing…

Doors closing in my face
Taking advantage of a situation
Disassembling an instantaneous moment
Sound the alarm, fall through the bottom
I’d bury myself before I’d ever try
Pulled the lever and now I what
Want everyone to beg for forgiveness
Screwing with my own head
Each word means something different
Filtered through another voice
When you are dead
Will I only hear all the voices in my head
When I’m dead
Will I only relive all these thoughts buried within
Said I knew, turns out
No one could know what goes on inside
Of all of this

Tossed over the edge… lost and forgotten…

Opened up something else in me
Another door, a portal through the world
What’s the difference now for then
Talking in circles, trying to believe
Walking a thin line, trying to believe
In something more than me

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Re worked a lot of these Broken Thoughts today… helps to have an outline of what one might want to say… even if that person isn’t entirely sure on the day what that is… most of my ideas take shape either right away… or the last second… still have so much work still left to do…

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Shuffle The Deck… Q & A…

Getting to know me a can be quite the chore… believe it or not I’m a pretty quiet person… so unless provoked… I’m not going to say a whole lot… So lets shuffle the deck and learn more about me in three to four questions… Because no one asked… The Ungame has begun…

Question 1: What Do You Think About When You Can’t Fall Asleep?

This question is rather strange to me… I know that it is asking what do I think about if I actually laid down in a bed to fall asleep and couldn’t?.. but I work overnights so… I tend to pass out rather than go… hey I think I am tired… maybe I should lie down and get some good solid sleep… Which makes my broken brain think the question is… When you can’t fall asleep because you need to stay awake… What do you think about… So in the spirit of all of this I will answer both I guess…

What do I think about that puts me to sleep?

This kind of screws me over a lot… some of my best lines… stories… ideas… have been written right as I fall asleep… sometimes I able to snap out of it and try to write the best line that I can remember down… but it still isn’t the same… super excited for brain implants that can record your thoughts… or maybe I shouldn’t be?.. whatever worth the jail time if I could just remember the damn words inside my head… To combat this feeling of lose every night… I tell myself the same story every time I am actively trying to fall asleep…

Which is super private… did you think I was going to tell you my top secret story?.. Honestly it is pretty boring and stupid… It always starts out with the first line… “Some nights were colder than others, but in the dead of winter all nights seems to be the coldest they will ever be.”… Then I just go off from there… about how I live in isolation and need to find a way tomorrow to survive the end of the world by zombie apocalypse… the reason I start off with that line though is that I like to be cold when I sleep… set the tone and drift off to sleep…

What I think about to not fall asleep at work?

This varies quite a bit… I think of how to solve problems at work… I think about how some people at work are total fucking assholes… I think of how to solve a world problem or local problem such as hunger, poverty, or something I have zero control over… but if I could… I also think a lot about the things I will get done when I get home… dinner… and on more occasions than I would like… how sad and worthless I am in this world for not being able to do anything about the things I can’t control and the things I can… how I won’t get any writing done… that all my dreams are bullshit and ten years from now I will be doing the same thing over and over again… because hell is a place on earth… you know fun stuff to keep the mind sharp… these Broken Thoughts basically write themselves at a certain point…

Question 2: What Is Your Favorite Room In Your House? Why?

As always I have two… but it wasn’t always that way… My favorite room is my garage because that is where I write so I spend a lot of time in here… though really I can and do write everywhere… really I just put it together here… which gives it a positive and negative vibe… positive because I’m getting work done… finishing stories and ideas that I have been thinking about for weeks and months… sometimes years… negative because as much as I like writing… trying to be a professional writer really takes the piss out of the enjoyment of writing… now it is work… and I’m lazy… one pass is good enough for me… so what if it doesn’t make any sense?.. haha…

Which leads me to my new favorite room in the house… recently my wife got new outdoor furniture for the sun room… so I like to just sit out there and read for hours… think about life… and wonder why we didn’t do this sooner… so I like that room because there is no pressure to do anything… there is nothing on the walls… there is no TV… and all that I can hear is the squirrels trying to bang one another… pretty peaceful… helps mellow out my chaotic mind… something I never thought I would say I enjoy…

Question 3: If You Could Take Only 3 People With You On a Trip Around The World, Who Would You Take?

Finally an easy question… My wife… my daughter… and my mom… would be the most relaxing trip ever…….

Question 4: What Part Of A Big Parade Would You Like To Be?

Depends on the parade I guess… is a funeral a parade?… what kind of parade would I even be featured in?… this question raises too many other questions to be properly answered at this time… short answer I would not want to be part of any parade and fear that is a parade for my own execution… in which case… front of the god damn line… lets get this over with already…

Layne Amborse
Chewing On Glass

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Smells Like Death On A Warm Summer Night… Broken Thoughts…

Spoken with a hint of irony
A blasphemous idea spread over time
Could the devil exist without a god
Aren’t they one in the same in the end
Spoken but never heard
Good and evil working together
To tear this all down
Order breeds chaos
Chaos breeds order
Life isn’t a line
But a circle waiting on time

“We’re always quitting something. Whether it’s childhood, drugs, alcohol, or sugar. We have to be quitting something and for what?”

Strip away all that you know
What is left, a blank slate
The devil and god could only know
What it was like in the beginning
Don’t want to believe it
A pawn to a system that can’t be won
Don’t want to listen when
The truth is so hidden
A life made out of lies

From ape to man our ideas have always been the same…

Past along idea, still no one wants to hear
A liar, a vile existence, a useless idea
Correct, my beliefs have always been
Take your lies and walk your line
Do not step across into mine
What I believe is how it is
Repeated mantra of millions
Spreads into billions
Becomes the truth
Because new ideas are not the light
New ideas are not accepted in this life
Strike me in the heart
Watch me die

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

Well that was interesting… not sure if this is a real Broken Though considering it is one idea… broken up… pretty boring day… about to work on the timeline for my novel… I guess you could call it an outline… but the novel will not be linear so you can’t call it an outline… a preoutline?… which the computer is telling me it is not a thing… see no new ideas in this life time… waiting for the update I guess…

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Bright Blue And Shimmering…

What do you say with a million lives to say it? What do you do with a million days to do it? An endless array of endlessness that accumulates into a pool of endless ocean. A fully powered and operational confusion ray shown across a thousand skies would still not explain all the confusion I feel inside. The isolation of all the knowledge that needs to be said greatly increases the feelings closing in on me. The pages have become displayed on the walls. Three layers thick and making no sense at all. The words bleed together like poetry at first. But after long consideration the words mean nothing at all. Turn the page. Start again. See what comes out and in the end find no solace at all. What is the meaning of this madness? What is a lifetime spelled out in words?

I pace the room once again. Careful to not knock over the stacks. The pages that could not fit on the wall without nails. Hammer and blood. Zig zagging through future trash. The trash that riddles my mind. Have I said all that I mean or mean what I’ve said at all? The words trickle out like a stream that will one day be a waterfall. A tiny hole in my head that won’t stop leaking. The thought becomes dizzying.  Dazed and consumed by all the words. I bump one of the stacks. It cascades threw out the room like a great wave of the coast of some mystical land. It blends and bends its will to all the other stacks piled up across the land. I stand in a sea of words, an ocean of thought. Even as I stare at each one. Remembering each pen stroke for what it was once worth. I can think of no meaning. No cause to add to this madness I have chosen to live.

Stare at each word. Each letter spelling out syllables and sounds. Meaning escapes me along the thoughts. Every passing moment descends further into nothing at all. The depths from under my skin. Flesh and blood. Meat without a taste. I can hear words as they echo out of the screams. Words played against a black screen. Images played to the silence of it all. A hollow sound that repeats. Blood drops, drops from somewhere though I am unsure where. A stream of red. A clue left behind? A whooshing sound blocks out the silence of thought. The blood pumps harder and faster within my head. Drip, drip. I can’t hear the noise. I can only feel it as I follow the trail. In circles I spin. Brushing up against the scattered pages of my mind. My bare legs chewed up amongst the pages. My blood bring new life to the words. Washing away letter for letter. Ideas for idea. Lost to the soul and pouring out of my head. A war fought bloody and hard. I continue to circle around the words like a vulture circles a dead carcass. I will find an answer to all this madness.

I haven’t showered in days. The new words keep pouring out all around me. The body riddled with sharp pains. I fear that I have become sick amongst the stacks. To quit now would mean that I should have never started at all. I’ve long since run out of paper. Resorting on writing scraps and bits of blood soaked left overs. I have lost track of where this is all going, but did I ever know? Follow the words. Follow the thoughts. Ideas set us free. Ideas separate the man from the beast. It is all here. Word for word. On display for any one with the time.

“A lost generation hoping for something to happen with the littlest effort at all. We all want to be millionaires, but no one has the heart to tell us that it won’t happen. No one has the heart to tell us shit.” Words cut out of my very chest. A pound of flesh I once called a heart. “They are all too scared, too afraid we’ll go shooting up the place. Our fragile minds can’t take the simplest of heart breaks. They fear that our trigger happy, unsympathetic, systematic minds with snap, and they are right for all the wrong reasons.” Man before the beast. Beast before the man. The call for blood of the innocent. The lives of a thousand sons and daughters. Is this not the calling of man? “Fear is nothing more than power. Fear is a manipulative tool used to take over the mind. They us the fear of it all to keep control. Governments, kingdoms, religion, and lies use the same tactics. Fear of the fear to keep control. Place in time. Fear equals control and control is fear. An impasse of conflicted ideas that have worked all too well.” Fitting in as the skin covers my mouth. Embraced by the society that birthed me. “A stabbed out swollen eye of infected corneas lathered so thick with bullshit that all we see is darkness. What about what is next? What happens in the end if no one stands up to the fleeting masses? The controls left in the hands of children. Evolution dictates that a change will cause adaptation to the original species. A rift will develop, slowly filling up with the lost illusion we once held.” Truth written in blood and disguised by lies of the mind. How could they ever lose control? More like them hidden amongst us like weeds that grow from the shit stuck in our eyes. “A river of deceit with a sediment so rich lies will grow like wild flowers amongst what is left of the masses. One could only hope. Giant man powered robots will reign supreme amongst the rubble of civilization. One great civilization shall rise from the ashes of our mistakes and in the end all the right will be wronged and all wrongs shall be righted.” A prophecy fore told in the shadows of the moon light on scrapped bits of paper. Cover the light with words and turn it off.

This is actually two ideas mashed together… a bit of a long post so I will keep it short… Nothing like a bit of madness to get your day started… Originally this was supposed to be used for a much bigger project about a writer losing his mind to the words… I got four pages deep when I realized no one wants to read about exactly what they are going through… So I chose all the best lines from that failed project… and tried my best to make sense out of it… or no sense at all… I just breathe the words… I don’t have to live them… and yet in some ways I do…

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Hanging Onto Repeated Thoughts…

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 let it but I can’t

If I Had Known

I’ve waited too long
Thought I knew what was best
Knew nothing all along
My thoughts they repeat
Stuck on a word that
Won’t last long
All the thoughts in my head
Hurt as though made of glass
Each one poking and stabbing
Till there is nothing at all
I repeat the cycle
Forcing something that can’t be forced
I need something new
What that is I’m unsure
My future is all planned
A future of not at all

Layne Ambrose
Chewing On Glass

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