Broken Thoughts… Nothing Ever Changes…

Defying death the thing I’ve become
Say a prayer for all that you know
Silence falls on your prayer
Beyond my control
Beyond my understanding
Only human, you know what I know
Murder, death, hurt
Respond  to the sins I understand
Look to the past, words
Existence I’ve failed to understand

Suffocating through what I know…

Education was always the plan
Lost on the insecure, lost on the damned
Education was always meant to sustain
A plan no one ever understood
Ignorance sown within our souls
Fuck your thoughts, bull shit plans
Mob rule, mob mentality
I’m owed mine, I’m owed yours
Selfish fuck that I’ve always claimed to be
The reality only a thing
Laughing at your pain
Because the realization is all too late
Sucking on the tail pipe
Slashing away, jerking off to the thought
That all of this makes no sense within the context

Bury me with all that I know…

Painting a picture
Means so much to me
An image buried in my mind
Just like the time I tried to die
A gallery with everything
I’ve been trying to say
Love was, never easy for me
Death makes sense
When I think about it
Giving up was all I ever needed
Wanted more but I never lied
Gave up the will
Gave in to all the things I felt
Wasn’t right
Only what I had at the time

An epic about nothing at all…

Embrace everything you thought
Not special at all
The vision not what we thought
Same as we were anyway
All I was trying to say
Love them all the same

Broken Thoughts

Our parents are all they could be… our parents our us… fight it… believe I am wrong… but know… your parents fuck… your parents have thoughts… your parents are us after all… eww I know… gross… shake off the thought… but know you aren’t a freak… wonder if they feel like you?…  they do… no other reason… than they are human… This whole thing is a shit show… welcome to the stage… smile… let’s move the fuck on… need advice?… ask those around you… it will be awkward… believe me when I say that’s what it means to be an adult… believe me when I say they feel the same…

Shhh… you wanted the secret… well the secret was fucking lame… : )… not trying to be a dick… just saying… not trying to make you throw up… but let’s be honest… your parents have always felt the same… mind-blowing… fucking crazy… hug them all the same… because they did this… dealt with this all… long before you could ever think… fucking heroes… martyrs to the cause of it all… good or bad… they tried their fucking best… what else could you ever ask of them after all?… that’s love… Think about it… come back to me… when you understand… been there for years… just sinking in… Not original… only a copy… excuse me as I throw up at the thought… only human after all… haha… never been better than you… Never been better than the heroes I’ve loved… only human… hard at the thought… embrace my part… embrace who I am after all… why the fuck do you listen to me at all?… 

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Walking Through The Lake Of Fire…

Staring Into Your Eyes

Nothing is taking this feeling away
Painful reminder I’m not who I thought I was
An example that you never did
Love me like you said you did
A lie, a waste of time
How can I really still feel this way
Nothing adds up to anything
Looking around, living the lie
See everything now
Rip out my eyes if I could
Memories still buried deep in my mind
Clearly something is wrong with me
Too stupid to see past my own stupidity
Love is a lie and I’m living it all the time
Excuses don’t mean the same
Reasons for why
Grinding out the thoughts
None of these seems real
Where does the truth begin
And the rest of this end
In you

Finding Peace..

Finding Peace in the Darkness

Scratching the walls with my nails. I want more. Another day or another night. I can’t resist the temptation of the kill. They said it would go away. It hasn’t. They said over time things would become normal. They haven’t. Everything they said never came true. Staring into the darkness around my bed. Dancing figures in my head. I want to kill now more than ever. Drinking a little bit more and think about something else. The thought won’t go away. What’s the difference if I do it for my country or for myself? Pacing again. Over and over with no place to go. I see them all outside my window. Staring back at me. Waiting. Always waiting. Becoming something more than myself. Twenty kills, thirty kills, they took more of me than I could ever give away. I can give it back. I know how. Ten inches made of steel. Sharpened to a point. Carve them up. Take piece by piece until nothing is left. They will never know. Scatter the pieces. Too hard to find. Too hard to prove. The feelings will subside then. Take what I’m owed. I have all the reason to do what I want. Earned my place amongst them. What’s the difference?

Scratching at the walls with my knife. I know the reason but I can’t bring myself to the cause. I’m not weak. I’m not too weak to do what I need to do. Fuck you, I’m not scared. I can do it. I know I can because I have. Over there I did whatever they told me. What needed to be done. Their eyes burned into my mind. Life slowly draining. The relief of living another day surging inside of me. I am safe. I don’t need to do this. There is no reason to kill again. The power is fleeting. Underrated as they laugh. I hear them laughing. Look at the hero with nothing. In the shadows I watch. Pissing it all away. No more wars to fight. No more battles to be won. Cutting out their tongues.  Their eyes looking back at me. Like before. Before when no one laughed. Everything is so meaning less standing in place. I need a purpose. I know my purpose. I have no purpose. Take the blade to myself. End this suffering. Take away this pain digging in my head. No, I am not weak. I am not weak.

She scratches at the walls with her nails. They never did this before. Always fought back. Not the same. Fight me I shout at her. Nothing, weak, useless she cries. Kick her in the side again. One life to live. This is how you choose to leave it. Knife pressed against her throat. Noises and no words. Aren’t they all the same? Weak. Take her apart piece by piece. Going to need rope. She won’t sit still. Won’t fight either. Barely a struggle. Just the tip. Let her know how it feels. Should have gotten a male. Spit in her face. Drag the tip across her skin. Arm swings. That’s what I need. Give me more I whisper into her ear. She shakes in fear. Hand around her throat. Enough playing. Go for the kill. My brain explodes. She goes quiet. Hacking away more and more. Take everything spread it around. Wear her blood on my skin. A war paint I don’t want to erase. Do you feel that? How does it feel? It went away. A calm wave washing over me. Peace at last. Peace at last.

Valerie Hannigan

Should have titled this PMS… See boys, try as you might, but you will never understand the true horror that it is to be a woman. So… either I do or don’t have a story this month, and that is the end of that.

Understood…
-Ambrose

As much time as you need.
-M.T.

Is it wrong… that I am turned on… right now?…
-Layne

Yes…
-Is That A Funeral?

Alone Now…

I Think We Are Alone Now

“I’m scared Chris do we really have to be here so late? Couldn’t we have come earlier in the day?” She asks pressing against me. I’m scared too, but I don’t let her know that. “Don’t be scared. I just wanted to show you around that’s all,” I tell her. “You’ve been here before this late?” She asks. “Of course, I have,” I tell her as we sneak up the dilapidated stairs. “Don’t give me that look,” I don’t even look at her, but even in the dark I can tell she has one on her face. “Well, who were you here with last time?” She asks rather loud. She stops in her tracks. “Are you serious right now?” I whisper. “I just want to know who you were here with last? What’s her name?” She asks even louder.  “I wasn’t here with only one person. My friends and I used to sneak up here all the time. I told you that before,” I whisper. The sound of shuffling feet comes from nowhere. We grab each other tight. “What was that? Is this place really haunted? Didn’t something happen in the 50’s?” she whispers in fear.

I listen for any more sounds and I don’t hear anything. I pull on her gently to continue going up the stairs, “Some people say they hear voices of past patients, but I’ve never heard anything like voices here.” We climb one more flight of stairs and I slowly open the door at the top. We sneak our way into the hallway. “Can we just go already? I don’t like it here at all. It feels really cold for some reason,” she whines. “We already climbed the stairs and the really cool stuff is up here. Stand closer to me and you will warm up. This building is super old and the insulation sucks. Imagine being one of the patients?” I ask her. She doesn’t say anything. “There are only a few things I want you to see and then we can go?” I pull on her once again. “There wasn’t anything cool you could have shown me on the first floor?” She asks in a worried voice. “No, the really good stuff is on this floor. This is where they keep some of the worst patients and the shock treatment equipment,” I can’t hide my excitement.

“I don’t think we should be messing with that stuff,” she pleads. “Oh, don’t worry no one’s around so, no one is going to care. It will be fun I promise. Plus, you admitted you wanted to see it,” I remind her. “Really starting to regret agreeing to any of this. I hope we don’t hear anything scary up here,” she says. “Why afraid you’ll scream and wake everyone up?” I ask jokingly. “Haha, like I care about that,” she says mockingly. “Well, you should,” I say in a creepy voice. “They kept some serious freaks here. Nearly anyone in this region the state thought were too broken beyond repair to put in jail,” I tell her. “Why didn’t they just kill them then?” She asks coldly. “You shouldn’t talk like that. What if you piss one of them off?” I ask. “What if I do? It’s not like they can do anything about it?” She states. “Can we just go a little bit faster? I’m only being cautious because this building is pretty old,” I tell her. “So, this place isn’t safe?” She asks surprised.

“Great so you’re putting my life at risk? This is one hell of a date,” she whines. “This is a date?” I ask confused. “Seriously?” she shakes her head. “At this rate you’d be lucky if I even admit to knowing who you are after this,” she warns. “Sorry, I thought we were only hanging out. I didn’t realize it was a date. I didn’t even think you were really that in to me,” I stop to tell her. “And if you had known?” She asks. “Well, I wouldn’t be sneaking you up here at this hour. I would have taken you to a much more romantic place then this shit hole,” I tell her. “Well how about we get out of here and do just that?” She asks staring into my eyes. I lean in to kiss her on the lips. With my eyes close I hear her words. “Do you smell that?”

I stop leaning and smell around us, “All I smell is you.” A look of horror comes across her face, “Something isn’t right. Something smells like cigarette smoke. I think someone is up here.” I put my hands on her shoulders, “Didn’t you see all that dust and ash coming up here? It has been sometime since anyone has been up here.” She starts shaking. “You shouldn’t be here,” a voice says from behind us. “What the fuck,” she screams as she runs back down the hall way. I turned to see where the voice is coming from. “There’s no one there,” I say out loud after here. “I know,” she screams behind me. “But there is no one there,” I say to myself to paralyzed to move. The smell of cigarette smoke washes over me, “I said you shouldn’t be here.” The sound of shuffling feet fills the hall way, but no one is there. “Visiting hours are between one and three. You need to leave.”

Layne Ambrose

Don’t Stand So Close To Me…

Don’t Stand So Close To Me…

I like to keep my things in jars. I have many jars all around my room. I used to as a child go out in the woods behind my house and collected bugs. I had so many in my collection. Water bugs, butterflies, lightning bugs, and all sorts of beetles. I used to watch them crawl or fly around their jars. Each one or type I guess had their own jar to call their own. Little worlds that they could live in. Live in until they died. They always died. Why did they always die on me? Everything always dies on me. Mother, sister, and the bugs. I used to label them and everything.  It would drive my mother crazy. All the jars filled with dead bugs under my bed. I couldn’t stop collecting them though. No matter how many died or how upset my mother got.

Growing older I became more and more fascinated with the bugs I kept in my jars. Though I never had the passion to really understand what it was that I was collecting. I wasn’t book smart my mother used to say. I just liked the way they looked in their jars. One day while exploring in the woods I heard this odd noise cut through the singing birds. It sounded like nothing I had ever heard in the woods before. It sounded as though a small child was crying. Was my sister lost in the woods? Over and over I heard the noise. The closer I got the louder the noise became. I knew I was on the right path. Frantically I searched for the noise until I came across a small deer. Not quite a baby but not yet an adult. It was just there lying in the open grass between some trees. It saw me before I saw it, but it kept crying. Figured it would run away when I got close enough and between me and you it tried, but the little deer had broken its leg. As I got closer it struggled to get away. Dragging the broken leg behind it. Leaving a trail of blood. I had never seen so much blood before. It looked so odd, so out of place amongst the green of the grass. I got so close to the deer that I could reach out and touch it. The cry it was making was so loud by then. The sound was almost unbearable. I studied the hurt animal as it tried to get away. I watched it for so long that after a while I couldn’t even hear the sound it was making. I couldn’t hear anything.  

It must have grown tired because after some time the deer stopped trying to get away. It laid its head down in the grass, its mouth moving, and its chest moving up and down rapidly. Cried and cried as I watched. In that moment in time, it was only me and it in the whole world. The deer’s rapid breathes become slow and shallow breathes. We locked eyes for what felt like a life time. I placed my right hand on the back of its head and it went silent. Silent like it knew what was going to happen next. I tried to make it quick. Grabbing the top of its muzzle with my left hand I gave it everything my little body had in a twist. Its neck snapped. I know I heard it or maybe I only felt it, but it wasn’t enough. Its body flopped around in the grass as I tried to hang onto its head. I tried twisting its head again, but it just kept shaking my hands lose. I could barely keep a hold of the deer. So, I jumped onto its back like anyone would I suppose and tried to wrestle it still. It was all happening so fast until everything seemed to stop around me. I was so frustrated, so angry that I lost control of everything. I seemed to have gone to another place within myself. By the time I came back to reality there I was holding this deer’s head in my hands. I no longer cared about bugs. Not when there were so many things out in the woods that needed my help and attention. I find that people are much the same as that deer or the birds or the rabbits of the world. They all need my help and attention.

M.T. Billings

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…

Digging Out The Past… Chewing On Fears- A Yuffie Collaboration…

A darken cloud, a sea of pain
I’ve only ever wanted to feel the same
A creature without a face
Upon this mountain I shall lay to waste

Image 12 - 1024px

“Hey Yuffie,” shouts Hydra

“What?” Yuffie asks

“Go feel sorry for yourself some place else. This is my spot,” Hydra declares

“No one respects my art,” Yuffie sighs walking off into the darkness

https://youtu.be/rNge-t6A3ro
This tale is one four written for a Yuffie collaboration. Four tales by four writers about the character Yuffie. You can check out the other three tales at the links below.
Anthony Renfro of  https://wp.me/p2kmxm-5r3″

Mel Gutier of  “https://fictioninmyhead.com”

Peter Edwards of  “https://wp.me/p8dNOZ-HK”

Anthony Renfro of One Writer Ranting
Layne Ambrose of Chewing on Glass
Mel Gutier of Fiction in my Head
Peter Edwards of Little Fears

First off I’d like to thank Little Fears for giving me the opportunity and the invite for this collaboration. Very honored. If you are not familiar with Little Fears I highly suggest you check out his site. https://littlefears.co.uk  or follow him on twitter @thelittlefears
New content posted daily. 

Is That A Funeral?

Been a long time. Hope all is well.