All I Feel Is Pain…

All I Feel is Pain

Memories are nothing more than random bits of information processed at varies speeds. This is how I remember my childhood. It comes back to me in pieces as my head slams back into the ground. Lift and repeat. Lather, rinse, and dry. Blood runs throughout your body providing oxygen and nutrients to every cell. When blood gets into your eyes it provides nothing at all. Nothing more than pain. How does someone end up reliving all their horrible childhood memories on the cold pavement? I’m not really all that sure anymore.

Where did I go wrong? Politian’s, health-conscious assholes, leftist fascists would say it was when I smoked my first cigarette. Signed a one-way ticket to hell by today’s standards. God, would I kill for one right now. Just to feel the smoke hit the back of my throat and shoot down into my lungs would make all of this a little bit more bearable. I wonder what heroin would be like in this scenario. I wonder what food will taste like as my teeth fall to the ground. Will anything ever taste the same again or will it always taste like blood? I don’t think the iron, rust like taste will never leave my mouth. I always speak my mind maybe that’s how I ended up here. The more my head hits the ground the more I forget. In the end all we have are our memories. The good ones and the bad ones. Our memories are all we have. For some reason, the only memory that keeps popping up is the time I learned to tie my shoes. Maybe because when all is said and down here. I’ll never be able to do that again. Funny how after all of this something so significant won’t even matter. Too defiant anyway. Never really learned to tie my shoes. Found a way, but not the way I was taught. The memory still comes breaking through.

My stepmother left me in a chair all day with the same story that I could get up if I tied them the dumbass way, she showed me. With the bunny ears or something. The instructions are still lost on me, but the torture is clear. “If you tie your shoes we can go to the beach.” I used to love the beach. I used to love a lot of things. Too bad we were in the middle of fuck all Indiana where there is no such thing. She paraded around in a bathing suit and beach bag as if we would leave as soon as I miracle my shoes lace together. What kind of sick fuck does that to a child? The company you keep, I guess. Too defiant maybe that is how I ended up where I am. Too strong-willed and stubborn to tie my shoes. To listen to anyone else.

My head hurts so much that my face has gone numb. I’ve been trying to pick myself up, but my head feels as though it weighs too much. Leaning into the punches is didn’t helping any. I say lean but it is more of a sway. Confused by what it is I am even doing.  I’ve got nothing left. Everything I had was all used up before I even got here. A teacher once told me that you come into this world with nothing and you leave it with nothing. I can see her old wrinkled out face mouthing the words, but the world has gone silent. Gone away into the distance that is my existence. She was full of shit. You come into this world screaming and you leave it with pain. The constant that doesn’t let you forget. Can’t change much when your life flashes in and out of focus.

Can’t change much when you know you are going to die. Can’t take away the things that you have done as the last breath leaves. Can’t forget the time that you pissed on the street corner as the neighbor’s daughter watched. Can’t take back the punishment. The belt that struck over and over again. Not even the truth can set you free after it is all said and done. That she wanted you too. No, you are only left with the memories of a childhood you wish you could forget. Can’t change the time you climbed a tree you were told not to climb. Ended up in the hospital for not listening on that one. Should have stayed in the tree. Why didn’t I just stay in the tree? Can’t change the time you got a girl pregnant and waited in the abortion clinic waiting room. Scarred out of your mind, sad for the life you wasted, and too young to realize they are one in the same. No, none of that will ever change. Time can’t change after it is already past. Time can’t change after you’re dead. Your impressions, actions stay with those you’ve affected long after your gone. Actions speak louder than words yet the words of those around you in circle your every thought.

Don’t do this, do that, why do you got to be such a little shit, clean up your room already, have you been drinking, this is for your own good, tell me what happened, happy birthday, please take the dog out, win some and you lose some, thou shall not kill, I hate you, why couldn’t you have been better, clean your face, you disgust me, this is what you deserve, I love you. Some good and some bad they all flood in as if they should mean something, but they don’t. Is now really the time to reflect on all of this? Maybe I just wanted freedom. Maybe it was only love. Maybe it was both. I don’t know what anyone could ever want out of a world like this.

For some reason, they have stopped. Could be because I’ve stopped fighting? Maybe because they know it is already done? I can feel a smile come across my face as the hits start back up. Their anger in this world somehow more intense than my own. I want to laugh, but do I dare? I can still feel as though that all of this is some kind of prize at the end of a long game. The words aren’t clear in my head anymore. Here and gone. Trapped and freed. I feel cold yet warm. But all I really feel is pain.

Layne Ambrose

Broken Thoughts… For All The Wrong Reasons…

Nothing good has ever come of this
The truth in lies is full of shit
I think I have all the answers
Locked away inside my head
In reality I have nothing and I’m fine with it
Ignorance truly is bliss
So are lies you can’t resist

“I want to jerk off onto the sores of her mouth. If anything just to see if it will hurt.”
M.T. Billings… Thanks?…

I haven’t slept in days
What if I told you that was okay
I ate last week
Think it all went away
Malnutrition and withering away
I may be dying in a slow way
What if this was okay
Gave it up all the same
Wish I could explain
What it is that I am trying to say

“A common theme, what am I doing here?”
Valerie… Not sure we needed the help?…

The past always seemed okay
Reflecting back I see where all the trouble comes from
Abused, abandoned, threatened
The humor becomes more of a nightmare
A sense of something so much bigger than myself

Nothing is relevant when everything is so irrelevant…

A bible left on a bench
Verses stuck in my head
Bleeding for a cause
Dying for the dead
Waiting at the end of the world
Too afraid to try anything new
Human unlike you
The times disappear, the years
Coughing up blood from all the fun
Destroying everything I love
Locked away in my mind
All that matter at this time

My lips are so chapped and it hurts… biting off… peeling off the little bits of skin… lips are bleeding… enjoying the pain… renewing the resistance that lies within… Random thought… Despite the plan to make this an easy month ourselves… I think this is the hardest month I’ve ever had… I hope you are all enjoying the Broken Thoughts… It’s more like a cracked out twitter… Like all my words…

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Through Glass…

“The devil made me do it. Tell them that. Tell them anything I don’t give a fuck,” I put my cigarette out on the table. “You didn’t even finish that one,” my lawyer says as he wipes the ashes and the butt into his briefcase. I light up another one out of spite more than need. It is the first hit that we all crave not the last. “We need to come up with a better strategy than the devil,” He starts up. “Like what? That I took a pistol to each one of their heads and pulled the trigger willingly?” I take a second drag off the cigarette. “Will you please keep your voice down?” He asks me because he knows he has to ask. No one tells me to do shit. Not the cops I killed, not the dealers I create, not even that bitch of a wife back home, no one and I mean no one tells me what to do. “Did you get me that drink or what?”

He hands me a flask out of his briefcase. Sucking down a big gulp of only the finest whiskey. He judges me with his eyes from across the table. A devilish grin as I remove the flask from my lips. Disgusted he shakes his head in disapproval as though I care what he thinks. “Really? Nice, look I’m not telling you what you should say or how to run your business, but killing cops? In cold blood no less. That is strictly insane. How am I supposed to get you out of here with these charges?” He wipes another cigarette into his briefcase and I take another drink. “Shouldn’t have been trying to extort me. In my own home no less. What can I say I got a little upset?” “You could have said no or instead of tying them up and executing them you could have dropped them off somewhere. Honestly, anything but what you did might be better than this. The cops?” He questions.

“The cops can go suck a dick. Do you have any idea how much I pay them to not interfere with my business? A fucking lot and then these rebel ass fuckers come to my house, in front of my family, and ask for more? They got what they deserve and you will get me out of here like you always do because I pay you a fucking lot of money too. So, get off your ass, march through those doors, and do what it is that I pay you to do,” I order him. He stands up and runs his hands through his greasy hair, “I’ve been up all night trying to do just that. News flash you and all the money in the world are not going to get yourself out of this. What you have done this time is just plain stupid. All this money has made you blind. Blind and stupid. I quit,” he says as though he grew a spine in the last thirty seconds.

“You can’t quit. This isn’t some company you can just walk away from. I’m not some CEO who stuck his dick in the wrong hole. You know damn well that once you walk through those doors you are a dead man. Your wife and kids are dead too. I’ll make sure that when my boys are through with them it will make what I did those cops look like a mercy killing.” I can’t help but smile as my words settle in. “You know you may have a point. Maybe the devil did swoop in and take care of these cops,” he snaps his briefcase closed. “See know we are getting somewhere,” I grin. Threats the world is run on threats. Figure out a man’s weak spot and exploit it to no end.

“Empty threats Marco because your boys already hired me to run their new criminal empire. It is almost too funny that you brought up the idea of your former empire as a business. Because that is how we intend to run it from now on,” he grins. I can feel the blood rush from my face, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” My heart skips a beat as my blood pressure rises. “You know if you had listened more. Like I had listened to you. Things could have been different. Though I don’t know. The devil never changes. The devil does what he wants and deals with the consequences later,” his voice fading as the blood in my ears pounds harder. Didn’t even hear them come in. “What have,” I try to get out before a knife pierces the back of my neck and comes out the other side.

“Everyone knows you don’t fuck with the police. You hire them. Sure, there are always going to be some opportunists. But that isn’t anything that can’t be negotiated. Nothing that can’t be talked out,” he informs me picking up his brief case as my blood slowly washes over the metal table. He takes two photos out from inside his jacket pocket and throws them down in front of me. “Probably doesn’t matter now, but it is only right that you should know,” he pauses. I stare at the photos laid out in front of me. “They suffered until their very last breath,” he finishes.

Enraged I attempt to get up before hands slam me into the table from behind. I struggle as they hold me down. One of them pulls the knife from my throat. More blood releases from my neck and onto the table in front of me. Over and over, they stab me in the back. The metal tip of the blade slamming into the table underneath. “I take it we are even now?” The lawyer asks from the other side of the glass. His questions going unanswered. “Good, if there is anything else you know where to contact me,” he says before walking out of view. I don’t die as I watch. Not right away. Time seems to stand still as I fight for air in the glass. Struggle against their will until there is no struggle left in me. A witness to my own death. Because in my world I get everything that I deserve.

M.T. Billings

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