Broken Thoughts… Came Undone…

Broken… and letting go…
The words come but I don’t know
Breaking like glass all around me
Shattered… and left behind…
Kneeling down about the thoughts
Wish there was more to say
On the subject… and the pain…
But I know it would only get in the way
Wouldn’t even know what it means
The glass digging into the skin
Drifting away is all I was meant to say
About the subject… and the rage…
Further from the truth is all that I know
Emptiness… all that is left inside me
Sweating out the poison left behind
Corruption of the internal structure
The glass has entered my blood stream
Becoming part of me on the way to the heart
The infection has spread to my brain
So broken… and letting go…
The words come but I never know
What it is you are trying to tell me

I’m having fun I guess… Kind of depressed…

Ignoring everything is harder than I thought…
Your disappointment is echoing in my head…
Salvation is the only sin I can prescribe…
What is it that you are looking for in a drug like me?…
Your actions have become nothing more than a symptom…
Nothing more than an addiction to who I am…
Hold on tight the withdrawal is the greatest fear…
The most confusing of emotions after the fall…
Ignoring everything is so much harder than I thought…

Two wrongs don’t make a right but it’s a great fucking start…

Rusted skin breaking down over time
Once again we find ourselves here
History doesn’t bother reading
What’s already been written
So obsessed with repeating old news
Repeating the same mistakes once again
That new mistakes are all the same
An industry built on praying for a new day
Another day of emotional decay
Industrial for a new day that won’t come
Another day spent watching this waste away
Behind a screen made of glass
The fabric of society comes undone
Tore at the seams… what was meant to happen?…
History can’t change what has already happened
What’s already been done to you and me
So obsessed with destroying everything
That our mistakes are missing the point
This never was about you, me, or the sands of time
We all want change… while refusing solutions
Stuck in place… wasting away…

Broken Thoughts

I have to give credit where credit is due… I didn’t come up with… “I’m having fun I guess… Kind of depressed…” Typically I don’t recycle things Sylvia has said to me… but every once and awhile we all say something that can’t be ignored… and must be stolen for others to enjoy… That is kind of the thing with writing… writers… authors… poet… artists… or whatever you want to call yourself… labels unfortunately… aren’t something I’ve come to enjoy as of lately… too many subcategories for me to fit into at any given moment… that I don’t enjoy any of them… when the only label I’ve ever really wanted was… me…

Not really the point I was trying to make… Writing isn’t so much A to Z… nor is it exactly what has ever happened to me… you… or anyone we know… but in a dark twisted way it is… I can’t invent new scenarios… I can only twist them further… I can’t create people out of thin air… I have to steal them… from those around me… what seems real is probably fake… and what feels fake is probably real… the real goal though is for no one to be able to tell the difference… Kind of how life feels from day to day… I’m having fun I guess… Kind of depressed…

Broken Thoughts Vol. 3… Now Available…

Ads are randomly generated… using some sort of magic… reading our thoughts… the algorithm knows us better than we know ourselves… but does that mean we should give in?… Maybe… the algorithm hasn’t told me how I should feel yet… But apparently I should pick up some more shirts…


Broken Thought… Shut up and Play Dead…

Dead inside… only way it was
Gave up and forgot how to have fun
Looking for something more in the nothing
Arms out and blood on the floor
Wrote myself something more than this
Envisioned more then just gave in
Looking for something more in this nothing
Arms out and lonely on this floor
Forgot what it is that makes me significant
When I wrote myself into something else
A complexity written into my skin
Arms out and embracing the floor
Something… anything to make me whole

The collapse was spectacular…

Told myself it wouldn’t last
But I knew how this would end
Just as I saw then
The thoughts they don’t make sense
Only to me because
Only I can see what they say
Told myself it wouldn’t last
Because I knew how this ends
We don’t know how to write new things
An extension of the same old thing
Nothing ever was as much as I believed
Told myself it wouldn’t last
But I knew how this would end
When I began this journey
Told myself these feelings weren’t for me
Told myself too many times now I’m deaf
Told myself to let these thoughts rest
Only to know how this would end
This thing called happiness…

I’ve spent too long inside my head…

Gave all that you could… but there isn’t enough
Faith to cover up what you’ve done
Haunting litigation of lies by revelations
Hear my voice and hear my cries
The words you’ve lived by have always been lies…
Turning a blind eye to all that you see
Faith may not be so blind to the justice of deceit
Haunting imitations of a truth by regulations
Hear my voice within your cries
The words you’ve lived by have been only lies…
Stop wondering and questioning… same above as below
Accept it for what it is and find a peace within

Broken Thoughts

Broken Thoughts… A History Of Drowning…

Wrote myself a better ending
Then the one that I am living
Still end up dead in the end
There is no before… not at the end
Wrote myself a better life
Then the one I’ve been living
Easier to exist only inside your head
There is no before… not at the beginning
Wrote myself something better than this
Been living at the bottom of an endless sea
A history with drowning feels right for me
There is no before… This and only this

Because if you aren’t dead… you’re dying…

An absent mind breeds absent things
Laying down in the endlessness
Hope and desire can only last so long
An absence of hope has left me empty
Standing around in a sea of nothing
Thoughts and prayers only go so far
An absolution with no resolve
Couldn’t last forever in a fractured mind
Picking up the pieces from where I’ve been
An absent mind breeds absent things

It’s a lonely feeling knowing there is nothing out there…

Torn apart
Doesn’t mean the same
As before
The words you say
Don’t mean the same
Ripped to shreds
Give in and my soul is gone
These feelings don’t feel real at all
How it is to live
Love and lose it all
Torn apart
Give anything to not feel a thing
Like before
The words you say
Don’t mean the same
Left for dead
Given in and my will is gone
These feelings don’t mean a thing
How it is to live
Love and lose it all

Broken Thoughts

Ads are randomly generated… We do not endorse most things… But maybe this one is worth it…
Some decisions are yours and yours alone…

Broken Thoughts… Never Say Ever…

Giving into what you have to give
Taking back what has already been taken
The blood drips from your mouth
The taste so rotten it begins to sink in
And I know that this can only be the beginning
What is life without the resistance of assistance
Succumbing to what it is you have to give
Took it for everything this life was worth
The life slips off your lips onto the ground
The vision so unpleasant it begins to set in
And I know this is so far from the end
What is life without the resistance of instance
Giving into what you have to give
To become something more in line with destruction
The devil doesn’t offer advice on the
Resistance to the assistance of an instance

My goal isn’t to own the world…. it is to exist within it…

Sheltering within my skin
I no longer nowhere to begin
Turned down again and again
On shaking legs…
I have to learn to stand again
On shaky limbs… must begin again
Depression setting in
I can feel it taking me back under
Clawing at me again and again
With shaking hands…
I have to learn to survive again
With shaky limbs… must survive again
Never say never… never say ever…
A silent commitment to a life I cannot live
Never say never… Never say ever…
Don’t waste the time on things that aren’t true

A true love story always ends in tragedy…

Head full of dust and forgotten memories
Sifting through the words
Images from a time before
The now and then
How I felt was never how it was meant to be
How it is… is never how I felt
Take each step carefully
Walking backwards in hopes I can
Get back to where this all began
Back before the memories and the pain
Time doesn’t work like that
Nothing works like that
If it did… I never would have felt like this
Done is done as they say a chorus of fools
If it feels like this it never was meant to be
A heart full of gravel and lungs full of lead
It wasn’t you who poisoned my soul
A sickness found from within… where it begins

Broken Thoughts

Been awhile since I had something to say… been too long if you ask me… but no one’s really asking much of anything anymore around here… The House That Depression Built… is going through a few changes… bear with us as we transition to something a bit different and more of the same… A redesign seems fitting… but we aren’t all to sure what that means at the moment… themes and ideas change as we progress on through… Lining projects up for the future…

Another volume of Broken Thoughts is on the way… Missing one or ten stories to pass the time… Drafting a completely new project that should be out in no particular time… and as if none of that was enough to drive me into the grave… still at least one more rewrite on my latest novel… Once I find the motivation that comes with time… that project should hopefully be out by the end of the year… Promises though are hard to keep… never say never… never say ever… but someone has to say something… Hope all is well… Here it is all just the same…

Layne Ambrose

Ads are randomly generated… We do not endorse consumerism… Unless it is our own products…
then consume away… consume responsibly…

What Has Been Done…

I noticed the way she looks at me again today. The look of a blank stare, but it is not a blank stare. It is as if she is trying to tell me something that words could never really say. I see it in her eyes. Those cold green eyes. They appear almost gray as though something is hidden in them. Ten years I have stared into these eyes. Ten years I have study these particular eyes. I have watched as she has gone from child to woman and it is as though nothing has ever changed. Ten years of failure. Ten years of silence. I’ve run every test possible up to this point. Everything in the book just to hear her speak. Electroshock therapy, two electrodes attached to her head and enough electrical current to wake the dead. Not a god damn peep. If it wasn’t for her pulse and her eyes, I would’ve ruled her dead years ago. I fought tooth and nail to keep her after she turned eighteen. The state told me she had served her time. I argued that she still needs to server more, but like this? Was it worth it?

Her crimes though not as extensive as the others leave a lot to the imagine nation as to why. Why a child would commit such a crime? A silent hour every week for ten years and I am not any closer to finding out the answer. Her eyes motionless as if she is trying to tell me something. Maybe it is a neurological condition? No, I’ve tested that and came up with nothing. She chooses not to say anything at all. Ten years and I have never heard her voice. Witness, the neighbors claim to have heard her scream awakening them from a dead sleep. A scream like a siren only to stop. Replaced with silence. Imagine my jealousy to these complete strangers. Her eyes tease me like a loaded gun. Her eyes so innocent, so green, could they really have comprehended what she had done? Could anyone?

Could anyone understand fully the act of killing their parents? Witness testified that she was often beaten. Appeared to have bruises, black eyes, cuts all over her body. Never enough to raise alarm, but enough to noticed. The scars though faint are still there. Proved to be self-inflicted. Even at such a young age. What all her parents had done to protect her from herself is lost to time, but what she did has been well documented. The simplest of them all murder. The more complex. The ones I want to know, to understand? Hidden behind those eyes.

How does a child carefully remove the skin of a person? Let alone their own parents? I know surgeons.  Doctors paid to be precise every day and every time. Even they do not understand how a child could be so methodic in one’s actions. A pile of skin laid on the floor as she began the real work, she had set out to do. As one police officer stated in their report, “The organs were laid out. Laid out on display like we had to do in basic training for our rifles. Laid there ready to be put back in if need be.” Their husk like bodies resting on the floor.  

No, a child could not understand what they have done? Or could they? None of it makes any sense. The answers I seek sits before me waiting to be discovered. No evil in sight only a blank stare. Yet she sits before me. A child capable of tearing apart her whole family. A child who shaped the bones of her parents to that of some kind of monster. A child who took the skin of her mother from the floor and wore it like a costume until the police arrived. What kind of evil truly lives behind those green eyes?

Valerie Hannigan

My eyes are brown just so you know and why the hell would anyone want to dress up like their mother? It is unsettling enough knowing that I am slowly becoming like her.