Because Everything Can’t Be So Serious… Or Can It?…

Might be leaving here with very little battery life
But I don’t care
All in my head if you ask me
Not truly dead until five percent
And even then
Bringing all the hurt one could ever need
A sinkhole made of shit, more like quicksand
But who’s asking me
No one ever did so maybe that’s why I’m so bitter
Never got invited to the dance
And I never asked
Locked away inside my head
The despair is getting to me
Self-preservation unconsciously
But there’s nothing wrong with that
After awhile
After some time
All batteries drain away and the signals all gone

 

Mother’s Love Chocolate Covered Shit” was a title I came up with, but never used… It was going to be this long monologue… long stream of conscious thought… about all the chocolate covered shit at work for Mother’s Day… Yet no woman in my life has ever asked me or shown interest in such things… is this a case of society pushing crap on women or a deep secret desire to cover the world in chocolate?… but why only on Mother’s Day ladies?… Why not every day?… change starts with you… if you want something you have to take it… and pour chocolate on it… 

 

Proudly serving those that serve
Hidden slavery no one understands
Taken a fool by the Masters
Best intentions at heart
Proudly owned by those who own me
Wish I could separate myself from who I’ve become
Jaded and lost, time has a funny way of screwing us all
Where have the days gone if they haven’t gone anywhere
Standing in a stand still
Death will be here soon and then what do we do
Rehearsing  my place in all of this
One long line waiting to get in
Praying all of this will seem worth it

 

“I don’t see the bosses yellow Mustang or the midlife crises cruiser as I’ve been known to call it, so he is not here. Which is either a good thing or a very bad for me.” Not everything has to make sense at the time or years later… for some reason I never finished this thought… and even now I don’t know where I was going with this… This next part is in the same boat… a prewrite where… well you can read it and tell me… 

 

This prewrite didn’t reveal shit
Fuck technique when it doesn’t matter
Too much anger to flow
Too much anger to make any sense
Fuck you, like I care
I don’t, oh well, what are we going to do about it?
Suffering maybe the best way
But where does that leave the rest of us
Put your balls on the table
Watch them get chopped off and added to the pile
Wonder what the fuck is happening
Does it matter anymore
Fuck you said in only so many ways
Bit the curb and succumb to the toothless grin
Turns out teeth were more important than once thought
Rotting out from the inside
Your breath smells like shit and I can’t take it anymore
Shattered perception of what it takes to be a man
Called out to define the definition of a vagina
The words are so convoluted it’s like they don’t makes sense at all
Given up on the solution and the conflicted
Hollowed out and welcomed home

 

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This was all in fun… leftover pieces that didn’t fit anywhere else… some of it was stupid… who writes a poem about battery life?… haha… made sense at the time… lack of sleep will make anything makes sense though… the last entry… I have no idea where I was going other than to say random things… was my favorite… a lot of really cool… weird… dark lines… hopefully you enjoyed this trip inside my mind… this adventure into the past… 

Broken Thoughts…

Beaten up and broken boned
I’ve become the whore that none of us knows

How many times does it take until it hurts
Leaving is a luxury we don’t all have
In the end, we all leave somehow
Breaking the silence of your crimes
A sign of the times, here and now
Destroyed, life still must go on
Even when everything feels dead and gone
Must keep leaving myself behind
Piece by piece, little by little
Become the monster that we all love and adore

Why is she digging around in my insides?…

List to get what I want

  1. Self-sacrifice
  2. Destroy all contact
  3. Become self-aware asshole
  4. Isolate myself from myself
  5. Have talent
  6. Become co-dependent on substance

Why won’t they stop taking everything?…

It’s desperate times, but your desperate measures
Are not working out
It’s a desperate time full of all things to come
Bringing down all those around you
Desperation seems to be the word of the day
How I feel and all I have to say
Can’t say I don’t enjoy this at least a little bit
Down to my level, drowning in shit
As if we cared about anything other than ourselves
Selfish ideas manifest beyond selfishness
I once cared now I’m not sure anymore
My notes on the incident guide me through the darkness
Big bang it was once called, a theory
No one knows anything that happens to us
If we mattered don’t you think that there would be answers
The good book, made up of stories to explain the time
God is nothing more than the voice in your head
God is not what you think it is
God is, God is the reason we must go on

Broken Thoughts

My mind is stuck in this weird place… stuck staring at lines… saying fuck it and moving on… my head is in this place… a place between… doing something… and doing nothing at all… throwing shit against the wall… just because I hate it all… who the fuck do I think I am?… worthless at the moment… a thousand fucking degrees… sweating out the thoughts that no one cares about at all… my head hurts and I don’t care… slamming it into the desk… seems to be the only thing I can do anymore… 

Having a great day… 

Merch… Teespring… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chasing Darkness…

Things aren’t quite the way they used to be. Things change fact of life and death. Even if we can change those facts like I have. Things still very much change. I no longer know who I am or what I have become. I’m not what most people would consider normal. Most would consider me to be eccentric. They always have from every moment that I can remember. Strange not normal. Broken and not equal. Different in every sense of the word. They were right of course, but I guess chasing endless winter is not most people’s idea of a good time. Not most people’s idea of where I should be or what I should be doing. But I like the isolation, the cold, and the loneliness of it all. It helps me think and that is all they really want from me in the end. They want me to think for them. To create for them. Being out here in the nothing makes me feel more alive than a room full of people sucking up to my money. Yes, I am rich. Richer than most nations to be exact. To be fair though that isn’t saying much considering most nations didn’t go with technology. The choice was too easy to follow me, to invest in my ideas. Man is flawed in that way. Self-doubt, too easy can’t be the right way. Must resist and so they did. Investing in war and death. I shouldn’t have to tell you how that turned out. But history, stories they are summaries of things we already know.

Turns out bombs don’t feed people or build homes or take care of you when you get old. No, bombs only have one purpose and they do that function very well. But robots? My robots? They can do so much more than kill. Most nations fallen to the way side, disappeared off the map of everything including people’s minds. The advancements were swift, they were quick. I discovered a loop hole that we had missed. An easy option no one believed to exist. Greatly enhanced soldiers that feel no pain, targeting systems that can target any and everything you may desire, and a defense system so advanced that it would make nuclear war less of a fear and more of an annoyance. Whole nations wiping themselves out before the missiles even left the ground. Only took a few of these “brave and fearless leader” to wipe themselves out before all nuclear missiles were deemed obsolete. In fact, less bombs destroyed whole nations then had ever been tested in the history of any nuclear program. I didn’t just make the world better. I saved humanity and everything with it. These were only the beginnings of my ideas. Yes, my pockets were lined with dirty dollars of anyone who was willing to pay for protection. This is capitalism at its finest. This is everything that we once believed in. Things they change even if we don’t think that they can. No one notices if you stay within the lines.

What is left of Christianity would blame faith in false idols and other dated terms for what was coming. Yes, I am that old. Faith can come to us at any moment, but it cannot change in an instant. It is enduring like that. The same can’t be said for nations. Even to those who neither fear or believe in God. Faith is something else. Faith isn’t something than can be so easily pushed aside. Even the most faithless person believes in something. Something they cannot see, but swear that they can feel. The new question now became how do I get them to believe in me? The faithful fought the next wave of advancements. Pushed my patience beyond their limits. I grew bored with enhancing nations to the highest bidder. It was time to take my ideas beyond governmental and to the people. Take it beyond the surface of what I knew and go deeper. Humans are a flawed design. Boasting about how we are the greatest at everything. Spreading lies beyond the fabric of what we know to be true, but I knew with my help. I could make all our lies, all our fables, and all our faith in ourselves a reality. I knew that I could make them true.

My advancements in nano tech and hybrid parts brought the revolution to the people. Put everything in their hands to do with as they wished. So long as they paid. So long as they understood what it was, they were getting into. They didn’t, but it didn’t matter. Humans adapt to ideas they don’t understand. It is a slow process, but they accept the way things are eventually or they die off. Evolution sits as a theory, but the problem is we understand it better than we like to think. We accept it as truth even as we question its very existence. Deep down we already knew. We have always known what is that we are, where we come from, and how it will all go. There may be no all-seeing god, but something moves us to follow blindly. I would give them the means for what we have spent existence to discover. No one, not even myself can be as arrogant to not believe in a purpose. A self-fulfilling prophecy written before the beginning of time.

The fall was coming. Everything I had created was going to turn. Human history is riddle with stories similar to mine. The Roman Empire, the Chinese Dynasties, the rise of early man, and the list could follow us all the way to today. Life doesn’t stop under the wheel of change. It grows stronger. Picking up speed until we no longer understand what it is that we have created. A bump in the road, a great fall, but this one was different. This one was not like the rest. Unlike the falls of the past, the missteps that lead to something else. This one changed the game. Changed the world and the human race. We moved past everything we thought we knew with built in control. We became something greater than ourselves. The ones that were left that is. The advancements I made in human tech changed the game. We became one with the robots. Equal to my creations. Working side by side until we cleaned up everything. We needed something more though. We always need something more. We looked to the skies once again. Except this time, we knew that we were ready to face any and all challenges. No longer a dream, but the next step in our evolution. My evolution, my purpose in this world. For the first time in human history people are too busy thinking. Thinking of ways to make everything better rather than how to destroy. For the first time in human history everyone is thinking like me.

That is why I live here alone like this. To free myself from all the noise. That is why among other things I do what I do. To clear my consciousness. I feel this need to distance myself from them. I feel this over encumbering need to be as far away from them as I can. So, I can better them. So, I can better us as people. Nothing will ever stand in our way of achieving greatness ever again. We will conquer the stars as one. We will take all that is ours as one. For the first time in human existence, we all have a singular reason to flourish and all it took was me.  The weight of the world sits on my shoulders held up by the strength of so many. Change is inevitable even if nothing ever seems to change outside the lines. The wind howls outside of my cabin. A few more days left of darkness and the chase will begin again. The world advancing by the minute and my wealth grows. The owner of this world, my empire, lives in near darkness studying the sky of the lost planet no one’s even heard of yet. Trying to make sense of our new purpose in this universe and the darkness beyond.

Layne Ambrose

This fucking story… This story didn’t start out like this at all… the original draft was trash… an idea that I didn’t know was there until I looked a lot deeper… So I worked on it… worked with it… typed up the whole thing on my phone… had it all amazing… had it to a point that I thought was good… then technology and my stupidity fucked me… While trying to transfer the file from my phone to Layne’s computer… using all the great advancements that Google bestowed onto us… We lost the whole thing… didn’t save it correctly… or lost internet connection… who knows…

Back to step one… and I was fucking pissed… I’m still pissed and it has been over a week… still pissed and I have rewritten the whole thing for a second time… but it is over and done?… I just read it… why are you so pissed?… Who cares?… you are right but it doesn’t matter… We’re pissed because the story was vastly different… and how it was different I don’t know… but I know… it wasn’t sci-fi… I write by the seat of my pants… I write until it is done… I purge the thoughts and move on… then one of us takes over… so if it isn’t written down… saved somewhere… neither of us have any idea what it was that the other even said…

So… all that work… all that effort… gone in a flash… and like this character all I think about is progression… not going back… But we had to go back… We had to finish this story… redo this story… woke up today… and got it done… It isn’t that bad actually… still pretty pissed that I had to do it again… but for all I know… it might have all been for the best… destruction and loss… may have all been for the best… or maybe it wasn’t… “Faith can come to us at any moment, but it cannot change in an instant”

It’s A Funny Story… Even If It Isn’t…

Trying something new… Imagine that… I haven’t written anything new outside of poetry and the new story I am working on… Sadly that isn’t for the website… Redoing my next book… well kind of… I had this whole theme I was running through the whole book… I didn’t like it… not the story, but the theme… or the idea… shit happens… so I am overhauling a few things… and none of this matters… 

Recently I have decided that I’m really into board game boards… it is for an art project that I have locked in my head… so I went to my local Goodwill… and picked up any that I found interesting… one of them happened to be the Match Game… or so I thought… what I actually got was some came from the 70’s called The Ungame… yeah I had never heard of it either… more about the history of the game here… well the point of the game is to start a conversation or get you talking… the concept is just lame enough that I am in love with it… we are going to play a little game… 

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The Question

What activity do you engage in that involves all of you: your mind, your body, and your soul?

The most obvious answer for me is writing… I put everything into this… my books… and my projects… so I’m not going to waste your time telling you something you could have guessed…So I am going to have to go with the thing that takes more of me than writing… My daughter… 

Mind… my daughter tests me every day with her three million questions about the same thing… or when she says… “I show you… I show you”… when she wants me to hear her sing… as I am trying to put out a grill fire… life be damned… stop and look at me… or when I have to hear Twinkle Twinkle Litte Star one more damn time… when all I want to do is listen to my favorite song… 

Body… whether she is digging her tiny little feet into me like I don’t exist… or swinging her arms at me like a crazed mad woman when she doesn’t want to leave the park… making me look like a kidnapper or awful person… or screaming into my ear to the point that it rings… because why not… “You’re so funny”… No, I’m so deaf now… 

Soul… because I would give her mine without a second thought… even if it was to add only one more second to hers.. she is one wild crazy ass child… but every moment with her is worth whatever it cost… I don’t think the meaning of life is to create life… but I do believe that she has become my purpose in this world…

Merch… Teespring… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Watching The World Go By… In Ever Passing Moments…

The Plan

Feelings disappear into the light
Faded but always there
Moments in time seems to last forever
Seconds of thought, a lifetime of regret
Decisions made that can’t be undone
Another day in the life of someone else
Too afraid to take a step
Backwards or forwards there is nothing left
Feelings reappearing every night
Haunting me from the shadows
Crosses burning, signaling a fight
A struggle so unreal that it has to be real life
A thought that doesn’t cross empty minds
Time has a way or remaining all the same
People don’t change only the time and place
Lost in a cycle that can’t possibly end
Given up only to just begin
Suffering was always the ultimate plan

Mapping out how I would feel
Planning every occurrence that makes this unreal
A desperation so pure
A rotting life left with no cure

Short post today… I’m not feeling today at all… which is an odd way to say that I am feeling too much… too many thoughts to make any sense… ever passing moment… there is a war inside my head… a battle to keep going on… versus a force that says lay down and die… dig a hole and crawl in… ever passing moment… self-destruction was never my thing… only a dream… locked inside my head… “Want to destroy something beautiful”… what is it that I want to destroy?… when I’m so ugly… scared… broken… the surface still… calm… chaos hidden from view… tearing my throat out… won’t shut up… tearing my soul to pieces… can’t give up… some part of me… still in here… in some way… waiting out the storm… ever passing moment… I’m only trying to live… 

“This chicken is really spicy!!!”… My daughter… made me smile when I wanted to cry… all I added was a hint of pepper… little things that make no sense… change of mood… love her… even if I don’t love myself… comforting to know I love at all… 

Wait and See…

I’m startled awake confused as to where I am and where I should be. I can feel the bang of the door as much as I think I can hear it. “I’m going already. Give it a rest,” I shout but they don’t care. The door rattles with every strike. Must mean something to bang this damn long. I try to get up and at first it seems that I am having the hardest of times. Everything seems out of place in my brain as I. There’s no other way to describe what happens to me next. No way other than I rise up? A ghostly outline of my former self. Neither here nor there or anywhere to be exact. I watch over my lifeless shell. Who I used to be? Who I am now? Who I will be forever? Confusion doesn’t even begin to explain the feelings of everything that is happening. My door bursts open. No more banging. 

The first emergency responder to rush into my tiny studio apartment seems as though he is caught between two places. Nervousness and excitement flashes across his face in a slow motion that plays out in rapid speed. His partner half a step behind him. Their heavy bags land with a thud next to my bed, next to me. What is left of me? One of them picks up the phone next to my vessel’s hand. Says a few words I cannot understand as I once did, and hangs up the phone. The other man searches for a pulse. Finding nothing of course they begin chest compressions. The difference between life and whatever this is, is only a second but I imagine every second counts at this point. I imagine what is left of my time counts for something when a life is on the line. Try as they might the only fight left is the battle within themselves. They aren’t willing to let go. Not like my body has. I’ve made my peace as I watch them fail. As I watch the needle fall from my arm and onto the floor. I’ve made my peace I think though it would seem that I haven’t. A by stander to my own end and a shitty narrator to my new beginning.

If God is real, he is nothing more than a trickster. Proving a point that only the dead could understand. Even if everything feels like a dream or a shitty nightmare played out in my head. Is this real? Is this the high or something else? The two EMTs fight and fight to bring me back. I wonder why I didn’t do the same. Why do they care so much when I didn’t? I want to make them stop. Tell them thank you but I did this, and it is what I deserve. We die, I died, the end. What’s really left to say? A lifeless corpse with shit in his veins. How else was this going to end? Is this the way I wanted it? Sure, why not? Had to happen at some point or another. Death waits for no one or nothing. More so when you play with it like I have. This is what I deserve and they don’t deserve to watch it all fold out. Embracing my new beginning. Embracing what comes next it would appear that this was all only a warning. A second look at what it is that I have done. Something draws me back to my vessel. Tells me to lay back down. Not a thought or an idea the feeling is beyond my understanding to explain. I do what it is I feel I must.

Maybe if I lie back down. Lay perfectly still the two parts will become whole once more? Nothing left to lose any more. I try to recreate the position my body is in on the bed. What comes next is nothing short of a rebirth. The feeling of waking up after a long slumber as I spring back to life. Gasping for air and for the first time in what feels like forever I feel it. I feel it all. The tears flow down my face as I look into their eyes. Euphoric at first and then nothing but pain. Startled and relieved I grab the collar of the EMT closest to me, “Thank you.” Thank you is all I have to say. Thank you for what however we will just have to wait and see.

Valerie Hannigan

I’ve never done drugs nor have I ever been on the verge of death. I don’t know anyone who has almost died or died and then came back. This isn’t a very personal story though I suppose it could be. Because I may not know of anyone who has died and came back. I do know a drug addict or two. We don’t speak. Don’t need that shit around my children or in my life. No one needs that garbage in their lives. Life is never easy and why anyone would want to make it any harder than it already is, is beyond me. People will do what they do though for whatever reason they think they should do it. I’m not above it myself. I’m not better than every other walking asshole on earth. I got my own set of problems that need to be dealt with on a daily basis. Reflection and thinking past the now is the only advice I can give. It is the only thing that works for me. Could I use an escape? A fucking break from the chaos that is my children? I bet their little souls I could. The now. But when the vacation is over? When their soulless bodies are resting in my arms. What new chaos am I facing? How will my life be then? Peaceful.

Got lost in a fantasy there for a second. My life would be shit. Still here, but a little worse. Do it again and again, and what do you think will be left? Everyone wants to run away from their problems. But no matter how far you run they are still going to be right there. Dealing with them, accepting the challenge is the only way to get over them. Not the easiest of solutions. Not what anyone wants to hear. Cheat codes are the best way to play any video game until you’ve rode out the codes for everything they are. Then that game is trash and all you want is something new. The game isn’t what you can do at the end, but what we did to get there. Or something like that…

Stuck In Time… A Distant Past…

“You said you’d love me forever.”
“No, what I said was I once gave a damn.”
“You lie as though you believe it to be true.”
“Truth has a funny way of appearing to be a lie.”
“Then we shall see in the end who is telling the truth or telling a lie.”
Blood spurts from her neck, a fountain of life erupting for the first and only time. “In the end, we shall see,” she says with a grin.

“Blood in, blood out we are nothing more than the thoughts and ideas we choose to believe. Some days I think yeah I am more than this. I am more than a few ideas I stole from those around me, but I would be wrong. Human nature is nothing more than a copy. A copy of the animals, the nature around us evolved to their current point. We all evolve our traits, our ideas, and our very existence. A thousand years ago we were different, but yet we can look into the eyes of our past selves and see the similarities.” She stands there staring at me from the other side of the hot shelve. A metal slab bathed in red light and her face staring back at me from the other side.

“What the hell are you going on about now?” She asks her blonde hair perfectly held in place. “Is this another one of your epic speeches you build up in your head?” Her head is replaced with her pushed up breasts. Already large enough pushed up to look even larger. A secondary benefit to this job. “You know what it doesn’t matter its dinner rush and my table needs those fries.” I stare at the exposed flesh of her chest, “No one ever wants to hear what I say,” I say into her chest. Her face returns, “What?” I turn to the timer behind me. I glimpse the chaos that surrounds me on all sides. Transcending, drenched in thought I watch the timer count down one second at a time, “At least another minute.” The timer slowly ticks away as each thought crosses my mind. The world is full of useless people like us with useless jobs and careers. Most of us could easily be replaced by machines, but then what would we all do? Sit around and think about nothing? If we are to believe we are all the same. Then we have to realize that each of us is always thinking about something. Something so profound it could change the world as we know it. Tech so powerful that. “The fries man, the fucking fries,” another cook shouts. The timer beeps flashing zero over and over in a distinct annoying pattern. “Today asshole,” her voice cuts through all the noise.

My hand pulls the fries from the oil and I turn the timer off. Reaching for the bowl all of this becomes apparent. All of this becomes useless not only in my mind as I pour the fries into the bowl, but in my heart. What am I doing here? I shake the sea salt over the bowl tossing the fries as I do. Why is it that I do these things? I grab the small square plate and place a handful of fires onto it. Am I destined for something more? I pass off the fires to her, “About fucking time. Get your head in the game asshole.” She disappears as I place the rest of the fries under the red glow. Like vultures to a carcass more breast appear into view and hands pick at the bowl until there is nothing left.

There was once a girl that stood on the other side of that counter. Another face in the crowd of many. I remember her shape, but not her face. She asked me for ketchup. Over and over. Too busy I shouted without looking into her eyes. A mouse of a person. She wasn’t meant to work in a place full of predators. A place built on selfish, demanding assholes. She was too sweet to understand she didn’t belong. These thoughts fired off in my brain. My actions replaying, my words floating in the air. All she wanted was ketchup. Nothing more. It wasn’t for her. It wasn’t a large request and yet I couldn’t possibly stop for a second. The world is on fire in my mind. She’s nothing more than another flame. The thought haunts me at times. My actions as I see her shape walk away. I knew I was wrong. I knew better and yet I did nothing until it was over. I placed the tiny cup of ketchup in the window. Waiting for her return. Three days later she was dead. Three days later she wasn’t there anymore. Three days later everyone got ketchup as I tried to hold back the pain, the tears, and the regret of something so small.

My actions didn’t condemn her. A moment in our short time together. I never even learned her name. I’m sure she knew mine. Prince of the demanding assholes. Loudest of them all. I know she knew me, but I didn’t bother to know her. They say there is a God, but every turn I take I have yet to see such evidence. Searching for a reason that justifies taking the life of a twenty-year-old girl I’ve stopped searching. She didn’t do anything. She wasn’t part of any mysterious way. A victim of the uninsured. Too quiet to demand I give her the ketchup and too polite to seek treatment she couldn’t afford. Had she spoken up, had she said something, had she known, had so many things had happened I wonder what she would be doing today.

Follow your dreams… speak up… because no one is going to do it for you… but I’ll try for those of you that can’t… hopefully long before you are gone…

Merch… Teespring… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

For Those Who May Have Never Known…

Some things in this life are worse than fiction… some things are so real that even if I told them word for word as the truth… no one could ever believe… it is best to remember that not every one thinks like you… that not every one has shed their animal natures… and not every one in this world is good… it is easy to forget… it is easy to push out of our minds… what goes on behind our backs… and in the darkness… but not all horrible things happen in the dark…

This post is very different for me… maybe not in content… I tend to talk about things that are on the darker side of life… no this post is different… because unlike most of the things I post about… this poem is not about fiction… or dark thoughts that find their way into my head… I am a firm believer in the thought… that it is one thing to think or have dark thoughts… and a whole other to actually act on them… sticks and stones will break my bones… but words will never hurt me…I took that cliche in my mind and ran with it… built a fiction collection on it…

That is how I think… that is what I believe… but even with my own beliefs held firmly in place… some words… some ideas can be too much to bear… the topic of my poem today is… Sylvia Likens… and my reverse order for my post is because unlike most things I write… I feel context… what I think… How I feel about what happened to Sylvia… Is more important than the work below…

For those of you who don’t know… Sylvia Likens was a child in 1965… who was abused… tortured… raped… and killed… not by a serial killer… not by a known sex offender… not even by her parents… but by those in her community… by the very children she knew… by her very neighbors… there is so much to this story… to the truth of the event… that I can’t and won’t be covering in this post… more about the tragic death of Sylvia Likens can be found here

There have been movies… stories written… about Sylvia and the horrors she has been through… and even if you have read or seen any of them… then you know they only scratched the surface of her horrible experience… She has long been laid to rest… but her memory is not forgotten… Her tale as horrific as it was… should never be forgotten… Because people… children… still experience similar horrors every day… to this day… this is long over due… it needs to stop…

Many of us may have even experienced some… many of the things she was put through… may be even today… right now as we read… we need to put an end to it… we need to open our eyes… our hearts… and our minds… because… just because you don’t see it… doesn’t mean it isn’t happening… just because you don’t have the time… doesn’t mean it isn’t happening… just because it isn’t happening to you… doesn’t mean it isn’t happening… because it does and it is… in our silence… these monsters are slipping through the cracks… as we look away… people are being tortured… children are suffering… this isn’t an isolated incident… this isn’t something that only happens to someone based on skin color… age… where we live… or sex… these are things that can and happen to anyone…

I myself was a victim of abuse… I know how it can feel… I understand the shame… the fear of speaking up… will it happen more?… if I just keep my head down… then it will pass… I’ll be fine… excuses we tell ourselves to survive… Truth is the monster will always live in the dark… until you bring it to the light… I say you… but it takes more… it takes us all… There is no harder thing in this world than to ask for help… no matter the situation… it is the hardest thing any of us will ever face… but if you don’t… if we don’t… no one will…

Many of the signs are easy to overlook… it was a one off… it was an accident… abuse is hard to define… it doesn’t seem like it would be… seems pretty straight forward… but it isn’t… that is why so many people suffer in silence… reach out and get turned down… because of this one way thinking… because we aren’t paying attention… this is how and why… Sylvia was tortured… abused… until she died… It is easy to point at her tortures… her abusers… as the monster… but in this extreme case… the monsters weren’t just the ones in the room with her… but the society that surrounded her… that’s why we need to be paying attention… speaking up… and taking action… big or small… we must do all that we can…

Accidents do happen… people go to far… as a victim I know the signs… if anything good came from my abuse… my experience is that I know when I might go to far… when I am wrong… and need to take a step back… I know how easy it can be to cross that line… I’m not immune because I am a victim… I’ve said things that I regret… almost done things that I know were too far… I’ve seen the look of fear that I know myself once carried on the face of those around me… a look that has brought me to my knees… to tears… and made me question who it is I have become… I’ve seen both sides of the line… I have felt how either side of the line can feel… and just because I didn’t act upon my anger doesn’t mean I too couldn’t be a monster… I’m not a saint… I am human… we all are… and not one of us is perfect… but… there is a difference between an incident of abuse… and a pattern of repeated abuse… neither of which should go unchecked… or be put up with… seen as okay…

I was lucky… as far as my abuse went… as much as the memories still hurt me today… I was lucky… that I ended up in the hospital… that people around me spoke up… and did something… that my mother said enough was enough… a victim herself… not all of us are so lucky… for some of us… we don’t receive any help… until it is too late… Take care of yourselves… Take care of each other… it may seem like nothing… but it could change someone’s life…

Sylvia Likens

Kicking and screaming
Dragging and bleeding
Taken to the basement
Time to figure things out
Pressed against what’s left of the mattress
Laying naked next to the floor
What did you call me
You called me a whore
Silently screaming
Begging and pleading
Took me to the darkness
Time to figure it out
Strung up by the wrists
Stripped of everything I had left
What did you do to me
You stabbed me some more
Dying and breathing
Scarring and seething
Taken to another level
Time to let the devil out
Burned the words into the flesh
No one would want me
That’s what you said

But I’m Still Right Here…

“As below, so above and beyond, I imagine – drawn beyond the lines of reason. “

Tool, Lateralus

Death

I don’t necessarily fear death. Not in the sense that maybe one should. I know it will happen. I’m even okay with it to a certain extent. Part of life after all. If anything, I fear dying too early. Dying before I’ve done anything at all. My anxiety about the whole thing keeps me up at night. Fuels my own perpetual destruction and decent into madness. I complain about working nights, but the truth is that I have always been up late. One of the reasons I first took the overnight job. Figured if I’m already up I might as well get paid. Stupidity. For those of us who know. There is a difference between staying up all night watching movies and staying up all night killing yourself. Things only got worse from there. Because I let them. I let the fear seep into my soul to the point that I craved it like a drug.

There were nights. There are still nights that I relapse. That my mind digs in deep to the fear and madness. I have nights that I fear that I won’t wake up. Close my eyes and this, that was it. I fear the idea that I won’t be able to see my daughter grow up or that I won’t see my wife ever again. I fear their lose and their pain of not having me there as much as I fear the same for myself. I fear that I’ve wasted too much time doing nothing when I could have been doing more for them. For myself. It is a cycle that some nights I cannot break and because of it I don’t sleep. My fear of death is irrational.

I fear these things because I will miss them. Because I am awake. Because I am here. But I’ll be dead so I won’t even know that I am missing them. I won’t know what or how they feel or what they are doing. It is not as though once I’m dead and gone I will have feeling or thought. But the fear tells me no this is not how it will be. I should be thinking selfishly, but I can’t about this. I know that they will be fine without me. I also know neither would ever say it or at least, I hope. They are two strong and amazing women. They don’t need me but in truth I need them.  This rationalization doesn’t wipe away the fear because what if?  What if I am stuck on the sidelines missing every moment? Missing every chance to tell them I love them once again? What if there is a heaven and a hell?

Personally, I don’t care if either or both of them exist. Either place could only be one in the same with different surroundings. Neither place would contain the things I will miss the most in this world. A fascinating fact that I can’t out run, can’t find comfort in, but only dread. Stoking the flames of my fears. There could be something else beyond life but it would only torture me with the thought that I am missing so much once again. That all of this was for nothing. Honestly when I die, I want there to be nothing. I hope there is nothing. I want to rest for the first time in my life. I’d like to rest. As I grow old, I hope for immortality, I hope for more time to avoid all this what if, though the older I get the more I know it isn’t so. Do I fear death? Sort of, but really, I fear growing old.

Ambrose…

Because Asking Would Be Too Off Putting…

Diving right into the subject on this one. I’m sure I’ll dip in and out of anything I have to say. Thought about all of this six hours ago. My favorite book of all time is Post Office by Charles Bukowski. If you haven’t read it well. Well, you should have by now. Bukowski is something else. Amazon has labels, the library has a section, but to me Bukowski is life. With that said is Post Office the greatest book ever written? Probably not. Could care less if anyone or no one else likes it.

The thing about Post Office that I love so much is this feeling. This feeling that life will never get better. This feeling that life is a trap. This feeling that you will always be stuck doing the same thing forever. I struggle with these issues on a daily basis as I’m sure most of us do. This doesn’t go away as we get older. But in a sense, you have to settle. I hate to use that word and by definition what I’m about to say would go against that word. You get a fucking Thesaurus I’m writing here.

Point is that in life not everything is perfect all the time. Not every aspect of your life is what you dreamed it would be. One realizes with time that the only power they have is to choose which aspects of their lives to focus on. You can only spin so many fucking plates until it all comes crashing down.

I work hard at my job. Ask any of them and I’m awesome or whatever, but that place could burn down tomorrow. I’d be more pissed that I now have to find another job I don’t care about then anything to do with that place.  I settled for my job. Oh well could give a fuck. I need money for things I actually care about.

I didn’t settle on my family or the time that I spend with them. I don’t settle on my writing. Maybe after draft eighteen, but most of the time I don’t. These are things that I can make perfect. Things that I can care about. Things that make me happy. Yes, I have that emotion somewhere deep down in there. Things I won’t settle for.

Post Office didn’t teach me any of this. What Post Office did was made me realize I was trapped. That I was lost. That I was going to get stuck. Post Office made me think and that is why books are important. I saw the parallels that I was living to the main character, and I knew that, that was not what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to just get by in this life. I had a goal and I needed to do more than hope. I needed to do more than let the waves drag me under. Fuck what happens. That is what Post Office left me with. This feeling that what was going to happen was going to happen anyway. Might as well fuck with it until it does. We get one life. Take a chance.

“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I’ll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.”

Charles Bukowski, Post Office

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