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.

If It Doesn’t Kill… Then It Doesn’t Hurt?…

After so many rejections it becomes so much easier to ignore the vultures that come circling around my rotting corpse. Letter after letter. Email after email telling me they wish me well. Words copied and pasted as hollow as my soul. All of this self-mutilation for one person to just be like, “This is alright.” That’s all it takes. At least that is what they say. Who the fuck are, is this they? They never shut up like the voices inside my head. Constantly driving me into the grave.

Overnight is all that it takes and all you need is one semi-interested interest. So, I keep slamming my head. Cutting a piece of myself off little by little until there is nothing left. Then all of sudden, out of nowhere, “We’d love to work with you.” What the hell does that even mean? I’m in the business of cuts, gushing wounds, and scars. I have no prior experience in this kind of reaction. The messages come flooding in. Email after email the tides begin to change. Then the calls start coming in. “How the fuck did you get this number?” All of a sudden you are all there is. All there will ever be.

They say success goes to our heads. Not true. It is fucking bitterness. “Oh, now I’m something?” I want to scream. I want to beat the phone against the desk. “Last week I wasn’t much of anything. Last year when I was practically begging, hanging on by a lifeline, and unfortunately I wasn’t a good fit for Flowers Monthly. Now all of a sudden I am something?” It only takes one, but a thousand submissions later everyone can fuck off.

It isn’t success it is bitterness to the whole process that pushes everything along. Do you think after this sea of rejection you will be receiving anything of actual value? I mean I’m so special all of a sudden? Well here is the material I wouldn’t even put in my book. Here is the stuff I dug out of the trash after I wiped my ass with it. Keep everything. Sold out you say or getting even? Depends on what side of the screen you live on. An asshole or apathetic is up to you to decide. I have moved on. I have accepted that the vultures will take whatever of me is left. I sold my soul and I’m even more proud to admit that I don’t care. Check out my newest piece in Flowers Monthly, and don’t forget to like and subscribe. Food isn’t free and electricity isn’t cheap.

Layne Ambrose

West End Love for All the East End Girls…

“So, are we doing this or what?” He asks me for the thirteenth time in the last five minutes. “We need to do this,” he reminds me once again. “We or you need to do this?” I ask barely looking away from my phone. “I’ll slap that thing right out of your hands,” he threatens. “I’m sure you will,” I sigh but I’m not putting away my phone. “Look you need to do this. You are in a rut,” he pauses rethinking his words. “No, you are stuck in some ditch in the middle of nothing town,” he declares. Should have thought harder I think to myself. “Well, I’m not stuck anywhere. I am choosing to be in the middle of nothing town because I want to be,” I let him know. “No one chooses to be in nothing town. Someone chooses it for them or they are there by happenstance,” he tries to recover. “Fun fact I am someone and this is where I have chosen to be,” I say in an abrupt tone signaling I am done with this conversation.

“Okay fine, I need this,” he concedes. “Now will you come with me?” I shake my head no.  “I need a second you know that,” he whines. “I’m not dragging my ass across town. I’m just not,” I proclaim once again. “I’m not shitting where I eat,” he admits. “Never stopped you before. I’m pretty sure your bathroom is right next to the dining area in that trash apartment,” I joke. But then I realize what this is really about. I have the nicer apartment. What a little snake, I think to myself. “Okay, you have me there. Correction I have shit too much where I eat. Is that better,” he smiles trying to get on my good side. “Didn’t we just go out the other night?” I ask deciding on a different way to get out of this other than pointing out I am better off than him. “Yeah, but you are single now. So, we can go out more. Maybe even twice a week,” he suggests. “Twice a week?” I ask my eyes growing wide. “That’s pushing it don’t you think?”

Before I know it I am driving his ass to the other side of town to haunt the usual spots. We don’t come here much anymore and for good reason. He tries to hand me a bottle from under his jacket. “Are you kidding me right now?” I ask pissed off. “Do you have any idea how many cops are staked out on this side of town,” I bark. “That’s what makes it even more fun,” he tells me before taking a swig. I shake my head as he puts the cap back on. “Just a little pre-gaming,” he smirks putting the bottle back in his inside jacket pocket. “You need to learn to find your center without alcohol,” I tell him. “Yes, Master,” he claps his hands together and lowers his head. Not amused I keep on driving and ignoring him. “I’m seeing a lot of ladies that should be having my baby,” he quotes excited behind the glass. If he wasn’t my only friend I wouldn’t hang out with him either.

“No one should be having any of your children ever, Jackson.” That is a fact for a lifetime. “It’s lyrics to a song. I don’t literally want a child, ever,” he rolls his eyes in annoyance at my lack of excitement for this evening. “Could you imagine?” He asks staring out the window. “I mean how does someone like me, like us, not literally carve the child right out of the womb?” He ponders into his reflection. His voice turning cold as it often does at times like these. “Could you imagine how boring it would be to wait for the thing to come out? Then have to actively try to keep it alive,” he shivers. “Plenty of our kind do it all the time,” I remind him. “Yeah, because they don’t know what they are,” he says turning to me. “I take it you have decided?” I ask looking over to him. “Yeah, I think I have,” he returns his gaze to the streets. “Let’s get ourselves a pregnant one,” he grins. His sinister smile reflecting back to him in the rolled up window.

Layne Ambrose

Something Different…

Together Until the End

The thoughts like suicide lose meaning
If done more than twice

Unable to find meaning in what’s been said
Never look back, keep plowing ahead
None of this will matter when we are all dead
Nuclear holocaust, burning until there is no resolve
Whoever said the cold war had ended is dead now
I’m telling you to have something to say
Not that anyone would listen anyway
Who am I, amongst the masses
Who am I, amongst the depressed fascists
There can be no voice of a generation
If everyone is shouting at the same time
How is it that the dumbest rise above us
How is it that we could be so blind
Falling for the same tricks time after time
Maybe in the end, there is no intelligent life after all
Stepping back into line, right on time
Maybe we deserve each other, deserve the graves we’ve dug
At least in this, we will finally be one
Rotting and bleeding, once and for all

Jesus… no question… why I don’t have any friends… maybe if I change my train of thought… I wouldn’t be so fucked?… old dogs only learn new tricks because they are hungry… I’m about as thirsty as a bridesmaid on wedding day… Any of this working for you?… trying to be anything other than myself… is going over as well… as a Brillo pad against the skin… steel wool sticking out of the scars… favorable reviews… tell me I am on to something… cleansing myself wasn’t much easier than I thought…

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

Beyond the End…

“Despite purified air, despite not going out for months, despite no human contact in over a year, and despite a diet balanced out to be everything that my body needs. I have become sick. I have become infected with something I have to silently suffer with. Alone and isolated I lost everything and yet I still managed to pack everything for this exact scenario. I have planned every possible outcome of everything. The architect of my own demise. How could I have been so careless? They warned me long ago but I didn’t listen. I didn’t think it was possible. Chasing darkness into the night. Should have known better. Should have been better than to question the idea of immorality. I dreamed of immorality but what is it really? It is nothing more than infinite knowledge and a never-ending legacy of pain and sorrow. Threw it all away. Should have let the idea of death take over. Would I be human then if I had?

I am well suited for immorality since anything that mattered died a long time ago. I’ve given up on the idea of humanity. Become more like God than I’d like to admit. I am as if I am immortal though only time will tell how long it will last. Time and days are a human idea. Immorality and life are God ideas, but where and what are you when stuck in between the crossroads of God and man? I can create and destroy anything I wish by shaping this reality. Shaping another’s reality. I am my own God and my own savior, but will I also be my own end? The question fills my heart with no answers. The isolation proves theories I thought were only myths. There is no God greater than the sun. There is nothing beyond the stars but more darkness. There is no true meaning of life beyond the end. Not when we can control it ourselves. I’ve unleashed the end of all things to come. Now is the time for me to enjoy the end. For we are our own damn God’s.”

“End of transmission,” the computer states. “But there is no body?” A solider questions. His uniform the same as the rest. “Then we have to assume he is still out there. We must find him. As long as he lives, he holds the power to end it all,” his superior says. “So, it is true then. He is the source. He is the God of all of us?” The young solider questions. “There is no God only the devil. This man is no architect of our creation or our end,” their leader barks. “He is nothing more than a virus. A sickness we have been trained and created to get rid of. We will find him and put a stop to all of this. Now let’s move out,” he orders. 

Valerie Hannigan

Broken Thoughts…

What is evolution if not a theory
An unbroken chain of stupidity
Weak ruling the strong
Telling them what’s right and how they’re wrong
My boss is an asshole yet I smile and nod
Who’s the dumb one after all?

A sour thought to think any of this will mean anything…

My thoughts bleed from open wounds
Cracked open holes stripped of innocence
Days gone, disappear with the time I’ve lost
Gave more than I regret to admit
At the time I thought it was worth it
Uneducated by educated ideas of unrealistic expectations
The world could have been made in a day
Lie flat with half a sphere for a top
The point is it doesn’t matter
The lies don’t have to make sense
They only have to work
Stupidity doesn’t care much for truth
The similes are similar in truth
Doesn’t matter shut the fuck up
Going home has never been as easy as before

Who knew I could be so ugly after all…

Lost all religion
Lost everything when you cried
Dragging myself through this hell
No longer recognize what I’ve become
It’s a long road traveled or not
Feel the pain of a thousand worlds
Carry with me every word ever said
Brain won’t shut up
Movies playing in my head
Everything that could have been
Memories of you faded in the background
How I wish I could
Change any of this
Once spoken, said forever
Only one way to end it all
Only one word that means anything

Broken Thoughts

If I could go back… I do it all again… same way as before… because no matter what happens… I’ll always be me…

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

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…

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

A Story Never Told…

“What the hell are you even doing up at this hour?” A voice asks with a yawn. I bang on the door harder and harder. “Ain’t no one want to see you in there. Hell, I see you and I don’t even want to,” the homeless man moans. “Shut up you stupid vagrant. As a matter of fact, someone in there really does want to see me,” I inform him. “Oh, really? That why you have been out here for a better part of an hour messing up my sleep? The only fact I see around here is that no one wants your ass around. So, why don’t you go ahead and give it a rest and I can get some myself. Got an early morning believe it or not. I’m a very busy man,” the homeless man mumbles into his filth ridden pillow.

I stop banging on the door and I’m ready to bang on something else. I raise my fists, “One more word old man and I’ll see to it that you get plenty of rest.” The homeless man giggles. He giggles at me. I can feel my anger and frustration rising. “Don’t go starting trouble when troubles already found you. Take my advice. I didn’t end up here by design,” the man preaches. I start to take the steps down to his garbage bed when a familiar sweet voice takes a hold. “He’s right you know?” Her voice cutting through the commotion. All I wanted from her was an acknowledgement that I was even there. “I’ll ring you in. I guess we need to talk,” she says from the second-floor window. I turn back towards the door.

“Are you sure Miss Kelly?” The vagrant asks. “Of course, she is sure,” I snap at the man. “There you go starting trouble again. I ain’t afraid of you. Honestly, I ain’t got nothing left to lose,” the homeless man smiles a toothless grin before putting up his fists. “Yes, I’m sure Frank, but if I change my mind,” she begins to say. “I’ll be right here miss Kelly,” Frank finishes for her. She smiles and moves away from the window. Moments later I hear the sound of the door buzzing and I head inside. Frank lies back down on his makeshift bed, “Can’t get no peace and quiet. Thoughts this was a good neighborhood. God damn kids with their pointless drama. You want a challenge. Try washing your ass with no water. That right there is a situation.”

I ascend the stairs rapidly. A flight of stairs in an instant. There is much to say and who knows how long to say it. The door is cracked and waiting for me when I get there. I take in a large breath. Be cool Miles. Be cool I tell myself one more time before knocking on the door. She is waiting just on the other side as I enter. “May I ask what is so important you have to disturb me and the whole neighborhood at 3 am?” She starts right at the door way. There are so many things that I want to say. All at once, but only one thing I should say. “I’m sorry.”  

“Sorry for what? What you did or disturbing everyone? Because only one of those things can be fixed with an, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I’m here so late disturbing you and everyone else. I’m sorry for what I did earlier. I’m sorry for a lot of things,” I say searching for my words. “Yes, you should be,” she informs me watching my reaction. “I’m afraid, your sorry has come too late. Unfortunately, the words are useless at this point and are no longer any good here,” she pauses for a moment to let it sink in. Her eyes trapping the light from the hallway within. Her eyes look different than the times before. Something so different than the times before.

“Kelly please,” I interrupt. “Kelly please what? Forgive you again and again? Damnit Miles you can’t just keep messing up and thinking I will forgive you later for it. You can only play a song so many times before it becomes background noise,” her eyes like fire now. I step closer to her. I let her speak her mind and now I have to try the one move I have left. If I can get her in my arms, I know she will change her mind. I’m greeted by an open hand on my chest, “Not this time Miles. We are done,” she says sternly. “This is the last time I swear,” I reach for the hand on my chest. She quickly moves it away before I can even touch her one last time.

“You said that two times ago and every time before. Let me say this so you understand. I am done and this is the last time I am going to tell you.” She locks eyes with me. “But?” I try to say. I’m at a loss of words. “It’s time for you to leave and I’m not asking. I’m telling you,” she commands with her finger extended towards the stairs. I look her in the eyes one last time before doing as I was told. There comes a time in any battle where winning is losing either way. I put us here and know damn well I’ll only do it again. There is only one thing to do. I turn and walk my new path. I hear the door close behind me and the door’s lock click over as I reach the stairs. “I didn’t mean it,” I say to an empty audience. From behind the door, she breathes a heavy, “I know,” before her held back tears fall to the ground.

I leave the apartment building at the slowest of speeds. Lost in thought. What have I done this time? What have I given up for nothing? Questions I only have excuses for but no answers. I pass by the vagrant known only as Frank. “Out on your ass I see. You ain’t the only one. Join the club as they say,” he lets out a small laugh. The street goes silent as I walk down the block. A coldness washes over me from inside. Where I am to go from here. I really don’t know.

M.T. Billings

Broken Thoughts…

Always standing and watching
Participation is only an option
Waiting through the darkness
Copying, pasting thoughts and ideas
My thoughts have never been
Mine and mine alone

Generations of bending and shaping…

Walking this as slow as I can
The rush to die wasted on the youth
Thoughts of immortality disappear with every year
To be trapped in this old casket
Would be hell
The sands of time will only weigh me down from here
Giving in was never an option
It was always the plan

A never ending conclusion of thought…

Your words don’t inspire me
They dig, carve out a place within my soul
A den of deceit, lies, beauty to unfold
They consume, swallow me whole
Every instance of instinct
Every truth of existence
Proves my point as it grows
The thoughts burn up inside me
I’m burning down slowly
Ashes given back to the earth
Lonely, depressed maybe this is what I deserve
A life wasted on dreams, on the absurd
The more I want it the further it seems
What is it that I want so badly in these dreams?
The fire must rage, fuel to the flame
Even if it is slowly killing me all the same
What do I have left
Ashes, condemned to my last breath

Broken Thoughts

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The Darkness Abides…

Broken Thoughts Vol. 3: Chasing Ghosts

Out Now

On Amazon

Broken Thoughts Vol. 3: Chasing Ghosts… continues Ambrose’s dissection of self through short stories, poetry, and broken thoughts. Full of rage, passion, love, and understanding. Ambrose goes deeper than ever before chasing more than ghosts into the darkness.

Stories Exclusive to this Volume…

Awaken: Something has awoken through the haunting madness of nightmares. Something dark and sinister. A lifetime of struggle with demented images leads to one fateful night as the Church of the Abandoned come to reap what they have long sowed so many years ago. Expanding further into the cult that is the abandoned. When God calls upon you… How will you answer?

Dead Body Moving: Everything is going well. Better than well really. Only not everything on the surface is as it appears. On his way to run an errand for his job Ambrose will discover more than he bargained for in this twisted tale. The cost for a little peace of mind isn’t for everyone.

2 Days In the Sun: Stuck in the desert with nowhere to go Owen’s options aren’t looking good. Stay put and die in the unforgiving heat or walk the twenty miles to the nearest town under the same conditions. In this heat and a warm bottle of water Owen should be there in no time. Follow Owen as he mingles with the eclectic locals in his search for help.  

The Pale Girl: Early preview chapter to the forthcoming novel Blood Letter. In the early days of America something wicked this way comes. A beautiful and mysterious woman has arrived at the plantation and has sparked emotions never felt before in one of the inhabitants. Proving that even in the darkest of places love can blossom. Will this new found love be the end of her or the beginning of something more?

Early Reviews

Volume 3 cuts deeper and it just keeps on cutting. Some people will find this book disturbing. Others will push past those feelings and find something deeper than they could imagine. Ambrose doesn’t hold back once again on his self-inflicting journey. Chasing Ghosts across his heart and soul.

William Stevenson, Dallas Evening News

Chasing Ghost is Ambrose’s third time out on this concept of Broken Thoughts. Each volume Ambrose finds a way to make each one different and fresh for his readers. Volume 3 is Ambrose at his best. With darker themes, darker emotions, and darker thoughts that lead straight to the heart.

Ira Bella, Aurora Chronical

It is no secret that I am a rabid fan of Ambrose. It was no secret around the office that I couldn’t wait to read this newest volume. Chasing Ghost does not disappoint. Ambrose’s writing is like a fresh cut that will never heal. There is no scar tissue to find here, only open wounds. Wounds that he invites you to crawl through, explore, and feel along with him.

Aileen Ramos, Noctifer Examiner