What Can We Say…

“The world shatters around me. Falling shards of a broken mirror reflecting all the past actions of my life. Regret is something that can only happen after everything is said and done. How I wish I could take them all back, but I can’t. Each broken shard plunges into me and through all the pain. Through all the despair all I have left is tears and regrets. Open wounds that will never heal and maybe that is for the best. I’ve wasted too much time already on what if. Maybe now is the time to move on from all the pain and anguish. I’m not trying to justify my sins or the things I have done. I am only trying to move on, take credit for the things that I have done. In the past where they should stay. Stealing, robbing, threating, and who knows what else can’t be undone. Maybe it is time I told my tale. Confessed my part in everything that has unfolded in all these years. Maybe it is time.” The cold barrel presses against the back of his head.

Laying in a pool of his own blood the words fade away into nothing. No one leaves this world the way they envision. You either leave willingly shitting yourself until it is your time or you get put down like a dog. Rabid useless monster you never knew you’d become. Turn states evidence. Turn up dead. You signed the contract before it was written. One in the same. Only one of us was stupid enough to try and live. The other as stupid as the day we met. The point is to keep your mouth shut.

“Your debt is paid. You have proved your loyalty,” his voice as grime as the day we were introduced. “What does that mean?” I ask him. “You are free,” he smiles. I stare into his eyes. The gun still heavy in my hands. A weight that I can’t understand. “Like I asked. What does that mean?” He never blinks only stares back at me with those cold dead eyes, “It means that you and I never need to see each other again. Your husband’s debt is paid. We will take care of the rest.” I refuse to look away. Gripping the pistol tighter. My husband’s blood still splattered against my face. “Unless you would care to join him?” He asks me as though the question is really an option. I know as soon as I turn my back, he will kill me. My husband told me everything about this man, this monster. Never trust a monster.

“You going to stand there all night?” he asks me. Slowly I back away from him. Making my way towards the door. I want to speak, but it is only a waste of words. I back into something heavy. It doesn’t move as I step away from it. “You know I could use someone like you. A cold-hearted woman such as yourself,” he states. The heavy figure grabs me from behind “I know I could find a good use for her,” the heavy figure says into my ear. I know better than to struggle. The gun still in my hand, “I want no part of what you are selling.” He finally looks away waving his hand as he does. The figure lets me go. “I think you do,” he states. “I think you are at least curious to what I have to offer you,” he pulls a contract from his jacket pocket.

“You think of me as a monster and you are right. But it goes much deeper than that. I don’t care that your husband went to the authorities. Doesn’t even matter. None of this even matters. You taking my offer or not doesn’t even matter,” he picks up the pen from my husband’s desk. “We both know that it is too late for you to take another path. You’ve already chosen in fact. So, this can end in only one way. Work for me. Replace your weak husband as one of my own,” his eyes light up and smoke pours out of his mouth. “What about my children?” I ask the monster.

“They are already gone. As I stated before you are free. One last parting gift from your dearly departed husband,” he laughs in a cold methodical tone. I raise the weapon at the desk. He stops his laughing and stares me down once again. I fire two bullets into the back of my husband. The anger of all that I lost shaking me to the core. He doesn’t even blink, doesn’t move at the sound of the gun discharging. “Where do you want me to sign,” I sigh.

M.T. Billings

When the devil comes knocking there isn’t much else left to say.

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And Other Things From This Time…

Time Within Time

If I say it enough will it come true
Self-full filling prophecy made up of dreams
Been looking in a mirror saying it over and over
And yet the image doesn’t change
Still the same asshole as yesterday
Hopes and prayers are for our children
Praying and kneeling are the same things
Neither is ever enough in the end
Always left wanting more
Dying on my knees or laying on my back
Always taking something I can’t swallow
The pills stop working yet still digesting
Overdosing on the hopes this pain could ever go away
I want more than the blood could ever sustain
An endless parade marching through the dark
Hollowed out lies that can no longer maintain
The truth of why anyone has to feel this way
Giving it a minute hasn’t produced any evidence
That any part of anything has been worth it

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Broken Thoughts…

This could  carry me into next week
The thought that maybe any of this matters
Bleeding to know that there is still life
A loneliness has bred an isolation
Chasing down an unrealistic dream
A quest to become God to a desolate planet
There is no end to an unapologetic beginning
Kill the man, the idea lives on stronger than before
Fucking useless apocalyptic dream
Too busy to hold on to every thought
Slipping away into a dark messiah complex

Nightmares become reality…

Who knew the answers were meaningless
An asshole with a small dick complex
It swings without hitting nothing
The words pile up onto the piles of shit
Pick the one that suits the moment at hand
Fuck, I hate every minute yet can’t turn away
A burned down cigarette pressed against your teeth
Forgot how to live, still meaningless to me
A sentiment that time couldn’t erase
Putting thoughts and feeling to the grinder
Bleeding the poison out through the skin
Over dramatic for no fucking reason at all
Spoke to you once about pain
An idea left on the back burner for too long
Chewing on glass to feel anything anymore
Sedation was as much fun as it could have ever been
A raping of the mind that needs to be said
Passing it off as original and unique
Same shit that’s always been said

To pick them out would be a waste of time…

A constant shift of the same idea nailed down
Who is on the cross now?
Switched him out when no one was looking
Didn’t matter as long as someone was in pain
Praying to a God that doesn’t understand
Is like asking your dog for the rent
A concept they will never understand
Not everything means the same thing to someone else
Misguided words left on the graves of the damned
Searching for something more when you are already dead
The point is, I’m no different than you
The reasons had nothing to do with us or them
Broken before we even got here

Broken Thoughts

Hitting an apex of thought… is another way of saying peaking… before I have even begun… what that means and how it is… is up to you… slowly sipping away at this cocktail called life… I gave up guessing and put it all on to you… words dancing in my head… words spinning around in here… but none of them make any sense… the end was never suppose to mean more than… you thought it would… Broken entries in an unfinished diary… think I’ll quit… only to start right back up again… if I was an addiction… than I’d only still be me… resting on the emptiness…

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Do It All Again…

The rain comes down hard as it beats against my cardboard house like a drum. It upsets me at first, but then I remember I wanted to move anyway. Nothing truly upsets me anymore. Nothing outside of the wastefulness of the people that surround me where ever I go. Town after town. City after city. They waste their time all day doing nothing only to come home to more nothing. Though I suppose If it wasn’t for the wastefulness of people, I wouldn’t have the cardboard boxes I like to call home or the cheap cigarettes to smoke when I can. It is such a strange relationship that I have with these others. A necessary evil I suppose. Even if it makes me angry at just how stupid they are.

My neighbors got a TV, but it doesn’t work. Doesn’t bother him much as he stares at the blank screen for hours pretending it’s some show he watched as a child. I don’t miss television much or the movies for that matter. Too many lies sown deep within the bright lights. It’s all just a bunch of made-up drama or stupid comedies about nothing. I miss the sense of family though if I’m being honest with myself. Since I broke away from everything all I have had is time, to be honest with myself. A truly horrifying scenario I live through each and every day. Watching the “world” pass me by. A world where we cast aside everything for nothing at all. I remember the days that I rushed through only to get to the end. Always wanting more sleep. Always wanting something more. I don’t miss that need even if I still have the feeling.

Endless days give away to endless ideas of what life could be. Life has always been the same thing though. An endless nothing without a purpose. I suppose there is no right way to live a life. The words I write like a cave man on the sides of my box begin to bleed. Raining harder and harder upon my home. Though the feelings brought up right now make me feel a bit sad it is all temporary. I don’t miss much about the normal life. The tied down feeling that all of it had is what led me to this. A thousand years ago I would have been an explorer, an honored man.

May have even had my own day of celebration like that asshole Christopher Columbus. My own special day where everyone got the day off. A day for people to celebrate me with a shopping spree or stuffing their faces with as much food that their bodies couldn’t handle. It is all a waste I tell you. All of it. It all comes back to this thought. Even not existing seems like a waste at times. I go on just as they do. Just as we are meant to. When the storm passes, I’ll take what isn’t ruined. Start my search for dry boxes. Start all over again. I guess that’s what the real life is like only with more crap. Keep on wasting time only to do it all again.

M.T. Billings

I like the idea of living in a van or box down by the river, but only if it still gets wifi. I am also going to need AC, a bed, four or five streaming services, running water, some sort of food situation, and access to some money. Everything looks so much better in my head. Far from the point however. We always think we want something more than we really know. The grass is always greener. The grass is always dead if you take the time to look.

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The Myth…

I love to walk among them. I love to see just how they treat one another, but most of all I want to see how they treat me. I do it to feel powerful and I love the power I have over each and every one of them. Though none of these people know just how powerful I truly am. They all fail to realize that they are under my control. That it is I who controls every aspect of their simple lives. That it is I who can destroy everything that they hold dear in seconds without lifting a single finger. I control everything and they have no idea. No one can ever understand what this really means. I’m here amongst them to enjoy their mistreatment. I enjoy their displeasure most of all, but I enjoy it more after witnessing them first hand. It is fascinating to watch these simple creatures made of flesh and blood. To watch how quickly they will turn on each other over something that doesn’t even exist but inside their heads.

These creatures value money as if it has any true value once they are gone. These creatures gorge themselves on anything they can fit their mouths around all the while children starve to death as they themselves proclaim they are still hungry. Then there are the creatures that kill in my name so they can take over a land that isn’t even theirs. They destroy the very creatures I have made just to get their way. They drag my name through all the blood, all the pain, all the suffering of these creatures just so they can feel justified in disobeying me. If there is one thing, I have learned in all this time it is that there is a flaw in the design of man.

Free will was bestowed to these creatures in hope that they could control themselves. That these creatures would one day not need a God to control them, but sadly their free will is wasted on jealousy and greed. I once had a dream, but it has long been lost on man. I have given up and I have given in. Some days I wonder if it is was truly, I that has created these creatures, these monsters. These creatures say that they were made in my image, but they are most certainly not. A god does not create such dirty filthy degenerate things such as man. A god creates a world in which he wants to live in. A god creates a myth of how things should be and not how it is or so it seems thanks to man. A god may have control, but to have power I learned that I must destroy. And I have come to enjoy in that destruction, that chaos that mankind seems to enjoy so much. I have learned that I may not have made man from my image, but they most certainly have made me from theirs.

Layne Ambrose

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