Letter To Myself…

When you look back over a life time you realize just how much time you’ve wasted. You see how minutes are not hours, hours not as days or weeks are lifetimes. You see however that years become seconds and decades minutes. Time slips right by without even a second look. The twenty-five-year-old me would say I live without regrets and the fifty-year-old me would tell you how much I live with only regrets. He’d tell you all about how much time I wished I could get back. Time is wasted on the young and stupid. Not that we truly get any smarter with age. I mean I am sitting here writing to any empty audience and wasting the very time I wish to get back. Age is a trip. God damn is it ever. If I could go back in time, I’d tell the twenty-five-year-old me to quit working and go have some fun.

I’d tell him money is worthless and all the shit wasted on it is just that, shit. I’d tell him so many things I already tell myself every day.  I’d say live for today and not the week. If only I could go back and warn him of the old man he will become. That’s what I would do if I could go back in time. I’d be selfish for the first time in my life. Never look back, because all you will find is regrets for all the time wasted. A lifetime of waiting for something better is really nothing more than a waste of life.

There’s never going to be a better time than now. When you’re young, when you still have life not at the end of it. Not when there’s nothing left because that is all that is left after a life time of saving and waiting, a whole lot of nothing. You could say that I’m bitter, but I’m just being honest. If you can take one thing from this, I hope it is the message to live, to have fun, to have a life worth looking back on. Because in the end this is all that matters, having something to look back on. If only I had listened to myself then instead of now.

Oh, and she cheats on you with your best friend, and the kids all hate you because they think it’s your fault the family fell apart. Your hair will only last a couple more years and a decade after that your dick won’t be able to get up without a little bit of help. Your life savings. Well, you will spend it all, but not on anything worth saving for. Medical bills mostly and a place to burry the dog. It took a life time to learn that so use the information well. Good luck and maybe when it’s all said and done. We won’t be the same and you’ll have something else to say when we are back here again.  But I know us better than we’d like to admit. So, I’ll be seeing you real soon.

M.T. Billings

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Something Different…

Long Legitimate Regret

There is a war within myself
One that can not be won with blood and guts
This can’t be the end
But I fear that it must
Each day is a plague within itself
A lost cause of hopeful redemption
One that could only do better with mass amputation
A removal of myself
A separation of mind from body
I hope one day for it to all go away
Though I know less hopeful things
Will come true
If this is the end
Embrace it as if holding an old friend
Too much has changed since the beginning
Your bull-headed stubbornness was cute
Now it is nothing more than sad and pathetic

Unsure

So they say
That it is the age of death
So they say
A lot of things
Who are they
That you listen too
So they say
We are all murderers and thieves
So they say
To hear themselves speak
Who are they
Anyway
So they say
That the world will end today
So they say
Anything that you want to hear
Who are they
Inside your head

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A Collection of Something Different…

A Collection of Different Things…

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Hold Me Back…

His body is still right before it slams into the hood of the minivan. The impact throws his body like a rag doll out of my view, and further into the busy street. I rush to be near him, but I have a feeling he is closer to me now than ever before. His body lays in a tangled mess of blood, lacerations, and broken bones. The man I once loved is no longer there and all that exist is his empty shell of a body.

A crowd starts to form around his body as I fall to my knees. I cry like I have never cried before. I cry as if my tears will bring him back to life and end this pain running through my body. I try to hold him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m so lost and confused, and there is so much blood. Someone calls 911, but it is too late for them to do anything. The blood takes the form of a trail leading to the nearest sewage drain. I don’t know what that means. Does any of this mean anything at all? I grab his body with all my love, “What does any of this mean?”

The paramedics arrive and ask me to let go of him, but I can’t bring myself to let go of his body. “Sir, you need to let go of him. Sir, he needs to go to the hospital,” one of them repeats over and over again. They force me to let go of him and I am covered in his blood. The cops hold me back as the paramedics load his body onto the ambulance, and drive him away. Leaving me behind in a world that doesn’t understand. A world that doesn’t care what we have been through.

Layne Ambrose

Love with all of your heart… love like today is your last… never go to bed angry… and love who you want to love… life is hard enough without it… there’s no reason to make it any harder…

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Someone To Talk To…

“My lighter quit working on me three cigarettes ago, but I keep flicking the damn thing expecting it to light. That’s really how my life has been lately, broken and useless. If it wasn’t for all the anti-smokers informing me of my future death, I’d already think I was dead. All my money is tapped out and I’m begging for a light from a crowd of strangers. One wicked old lady felt the need to tell me how smoking is hazardous to my health. Thanks, like I didn’t already know that I told her. The surgeon general’s been warning me for years, but your screeching voice has really gotten through to me. Who knew pushing your values and opinions on to others actually worked? Since were being honest and forthcoming with our inner thoughts and opinions. Your handbag doesn’t match your shoes and the clown set up resting on your face is really distracting to the eye. It isn’t fooling anyone into thinking you are beautiful, but it is distracting to think maybe you aren’t that ugly. Four or five feet back that way I might even think you are female underneath it all. She called me an asshole and stormed off as I smiled.

Nonsmokers are useless. They should all be led out to sea. Pushes them off by the dock down by the harbor one by one. Thanks for your thoughts and concerns, and a boot to the ass. You know what I mean? Most of them are hypocritical bastards anyway. Put a little liquor in them and they are out here begging me for a light. Seen more than my fair share of them stumbling out here and deciding to take a Sunday drive down the sidewalk. Isn’t it amazing how drunks can forget words like no or force themselves on a woman and not remember, but they can find their cars in a white out blizzard and run over six people?

Been smoking ten years now and I’ve still been unable to take a life, but my own. I’m the real villain of this world. Maybe I should turn myself in to the police? Take responsibility for my actions. They might be looking for me as I speak and I should take the initiative and shout, I’m right here. Big government is always out to get the innocent ones. Though at least I could get a hot meal and a place to stay if they even bother to look down to see me. Maybe if I get desperate enough. If things could get any worse. But no one’s looking for me. Not anymore.

You could say I lost my money on the market like everyone else in recent history, but my market was the back room of bars and basements hidden away. Pissed away my money faster than I could earn it. Don’t be like that. Never a good idea to be like that. Knowing better doesn’t make it any easier to face the truth or help yourself. Some might say it only makes things worse. Knowing what you know after the fact. I have a real hard time picking winners if you know what I mean. Bad luck must be something of a disease caught at birth. Sometimes people have it and sometimes people don’t. My father had all the luck in the world and my uncle couldn’t rub two pennies together to warm his fingers.

Buddhists would call bad luck karma, but that’s just all a bunch of horse shit. Stand still long enough on this street and you’ll find some waiting for you. Damn carriage horses just be walking by and drop a big old pile right by your head. Feet from where you sleep. They don’t give a damn. Same with fate and all that other crap people tell you about life and luck. No one gives a damn. That should be a crime if you ask me. Don’t see anyone of these people going up to them and pestering them about what they are doing. If anyone needs to be reminded about the shit, they leave behind it is those worthless pricks. Life is all about luck.

Some would say I’m bitter, but really, I’m just unlucky. Unless you count the fact that I’m still breathing, but then again that is only because I haven’t died yet. Nothing special about that at all. Nope the lord hasn’t pulled my straw just yet even if he has unstrung my bundle. Still breathing and still struggling through life’s endless shit storm, and life is a real shit storm. Believe me I would know. Seen a few things that would make you question your own reality. Let alone the existence of some unknown figure watching over our daily mistakes.

What do I know though? I know I am to blame for where I am. Don’t for a second be so cynical to think that I didn’t know that. I went to school for a few good years. Didn’t finish like I don’t finish most things. Searching for that easy money there’s no time to see anything through. The American dream or something like it. Rich by sunrise. Free as a bird on Sunday. Call it American if you want. It’s all the same everywhere. Struggle is struggle in any language. Only thing any of us have in common, I guess. What do I know about the world? Barely made it out of my concrete bed this morning let alone out of the country.

Could this place really be worth losing everything over? Worth giving up the freedom of sin? I’d trade it in for a carton of cigarettes and a government check. Like most of us I’m too proud to realize how good I might have it. Too busy thinking I need something better. I know better now. Took a lifetime, but now I know. What could anyone else ask for? Fine clean air and someone to talk to. Lord couldn’t ask for a better day if it was his dying wish. It’s a long and lonely road out here. You know what I mean? Enough of my rambling. What does life and luck mean to you?”

She pulls her ear buds out, “Did you want a dollar or something?”

Valerie Hannigan

Taking unconventional characters and making them unconventional is a good way to pass the time. I can relate to the female stranger because I am her. I don’t listen to everything that everyone says to me. Three little mouths rambling on will do that to a person. Break said person down until there is nothing left, but thoughts of living homelessly in a city so far away from here. A fantasy so real at this point it feels more like a past life I am trying to remember than a dream inside my head. But I love them. Each and everyone of their tiny little necks. I just want to hold them tight and never let go. Children are little miracles that never stop taking and taking. There was a point somewhere in all of this. I lost it and I don’t even care anymore.

Leaking Ink Like It is Blood
Because It is All We Know
is That a Funeral?

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As The Heavens Fall… Something Different…

As Before

Blood runs cold, the night air not as warm as before
Thoughts run empty with your celestial talking
Does the mind stop even after you make it
What separates us from animals if not for sin
Inhaling fire to stay alive one more night
Stripped to the bones, pressed against the cold
Giving into the things that make us whole, want and need
More to do every day easy to feel used
In the dark searching for an escape from internal questions
Believe that one day all will be well, manufactured lie
A dreamer exhaling upon the world tonight
Knowing you are wrong is the worst feeling of all
Blood runs cold, the blue flames washed away
A rebirth of existence praying to a lord from before
Does the devil hear the call as the heart stops beating
What separates us from animals if not desperation
Breathing fire to stay alive one more night
Stripped of all reason, the skin goes cold
Kneeling before it all to feel whole once again
More is needed, nothing is ever enough
In the dark searching for answers to life
Believed that one day all will be well, synthetic truth
A lost soul screaming to the heavens tonight
Knowing there is no answer is the worst feeling of all
Blood runs cold, prayers left unanswered in the night
As above so below, as before so it is now
Naked and alone

The mood struck me as I think of what to do with my time tonight… spending time on twitter can feel like this from time to time… as though one is shouting for attention… only to hear nothing back… social media in general feels like this to me… it turns me off from the whole thing… rather sit in my closet feeling sorry for myself… instead of out in the open feeling the same way… I’m told though if I want people to notice my work then I need to get out there… not sure if I hold these truths as close to my heart… destined to be naked and alone as before…

Getting anyone to notice anything is a challenge… wish I had some sort of secret to share… some profound philosophy to explain it all away… unfortunately all I have are visions of slamming my head into a wall until I no longer care… not helpful I’m aware… but there is something there… a feeling locked within the madness… an lack of effort that doesn’t come across as desperation sewn into the thought… a lack of something… a lack of confidence?… a lack of fucks?… I’m sure I’m missing something… no one was born whole… always searching for the missing parts…

Unsure of where the content of this poem comes from… as I rest on the thoughts that consume me…

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Scarping its way into the world. Teething On Concrete is the newest collection of poetry by Layne Ambrose. Sobering, haunting, and downright depressing. Ambrose takes us on a journey the only way he knows how. Across the razor blades of his mind. Ambrose’s take on what it means to live will not be forgotten any time soon. Whether you are preaching, kneeling, or teething on concrete this collection is here to satisfy your needs.

“Putting this down wasn’t much of an option.”
M.T. Billings, Shaky Town Rebellion

“Jesus…”
Sylvia Ambrose, Cover Artist

“Concrete never tasted so good.”
Korbin Copy, Is That A Funeral?

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Broken Thoughts… The Beginning…

The demon it sleeps, waking only for the sound of broken bones
A ringing that snaps the consciousness, a fear steeped in blood
Fighting the demon requires an understanding
A contract of self-defecation, A knowing of constant failure
There can be no winner when all is lost
The stones tell a story of loss and misguidance
A reason to know that none of this ever mattered
The letters in blood are lost to the times
The words they spell make no sense to anyone
Gun fire in the distance, frustration released on the innocent
Taking control never meant being in charge

Rationally this all has to make some sense…

Syphoning​ the blood to sell for oil
I don’t know of a better way to inflict toil
Breaking down barriers to exterminate freedom
I don’t know of a better way to express reasons
Sounding sad to get what we are
The victims of our own troubles
Owning something sounds too harsh
I don’t know of a better reason to destroy
Freedoms lacking from the start

Reality is nothing more than what we pretend to portray…

My eyes are open to the world and I do not like what I see
A cascading river of blood washing over me
How could this world have come to be
A distant memory of civilization
Books I read that made me believe we are one
Lies told from the throat of the devil

Liars… the little liars we are…

Your policies don’t make sense
When stacked up next to each other
Is it that you hate people or people unlike you
The vast majority fit into your minority
A walking pariah, self-appointed Messiah
You’re not God or even the devil
A walking mistake we all have to live with

Layne Ambrose

Putting it all together everything can seem out of focus… stepping back though is the only way to see clearly… each little section meaning something different from the last… too many thoughts running around in my head… nothing seems so clear… guess it doesn’t matter… Broken Thoughts are all the same…

Everything has to start somewhere… What better place than this?…

Vol. 1 Available For Consumption…

Just Keep It… Between Me and You…

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Broken Thoughts… Scrapping Together…


Blood drains from the soul
Body goes numb and the brain goes cold
Separation between church and state
Separation between body and soul
The world is ending and you were all told

Well good luck, you make a difference if you just give up…..

I want to cut my throat
Bathe in my blood
Just to feel how it would be
To be me for once
Drag me through dirt
Drag my cross to my grave
Everywhere I go
People want to tell me how to live
But nothing is ever good enough

The simplest of things… can mean more than you believe…

I can feel myself as I bleed
I bleed for you and I bleed for me
The weeping angles can’t stop repeating
“God why are you doing this to me?”
It all started, the bleeding that is
When I asked the simple question
“Do you still really believe?”
Lies are truths and truths are lies
What if I told you that nothing was real
That real is only a state of mind

God chose this so you can suffera test unlike any other…

The Devil is an asshole but so are you
The witches were burned because they
Were feared, holy called unholy mistakes
That we teach, no one can tell you how
To live, no one can tell you what to do
But somehow they do

A little bit of everything in this one… In the early days there wasn’t much in the way of direction… Sow it together and hope for the best… Not much has changed from then to now… but time takes longer than we have time for… living by the words… living by the seat of our pants… put something out and see what happens…

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Plus One…

“What do you mean you don’t understand?” She asks as if there is really some secret to her madness. “I just don’t get it. First you say I have to go, and now that I want to go, you’re telling me I can’t go as if I have a real choice in the matter,” he huffs frustrated. “Well, I just don’t want you there, okay?” She doesn’t even bother looking at him. “Why? Because it is some sort of girl thing?” He questions to her absent face. “It’s my bachelorette party so yes, it is a girl’s only type of thing,” she points out looking at him. “I’m going to be there for the marriage so is it really that big of a deal that I go to the party?” He asks annoyed. “It’s a huge deal Steven. This party is for me not you,” she whines.

“Well, it’s kind of for me too,” he interjects into her pity party. “No, it does not have anything to do with you. It is my party and I really don’t want you there,” she lays out. “There’s no reason to get upset at me Stacy. It’s not my fault things worked out this way. It’s hard enough that you’re getting married and I’m still single,” he tries to explain. “Well how do you think I feel about? Don’t you think that this whole situation is even more stressful to me? Regardless though you’re not coming and that is final,” she holds firmly.

“So, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside? Where is this stupid party even at?” He questions rolling his eyes to the thought of it all. “My party’s not stupid and it’s going to be here at the house which means you are going to have to sit behind the curtain,” she informs him. “Sounds like a blast,” he says sarcastically. “Is Stan at least going to be here?” He asks quickly hopeful that he won’t be alone. “What part of it’s a girl thing are you not understanding?” She moans out of annoyance. “I’m so glad we don’t have to share a brain,” she sighs. “Nope just a stomach and a kidney,” he says with a slight sneer. “And for your information I was asking if Stan was going to be on the other side of the curtain with me,” he defends.

“Okay well still no,” she exaggerates. “Stan will be at his own party because that is what happens when two people get married. They each have their own parties to celebrate one last day of freedom,” she talks down to him. “I know that, Stacy. Thanks for clearing that up for me,” he mocks with wide eyes. “I’m glad and just so we are crystal clear Stan will not be at this party, the house next door, or anywhere near here. You will be behind the curtain, you will be quiet, and you will not interfere with my party,” she says in a serious tone. “That’s just great. Not only do I not get to go to the bachelor party, but I have to sit on the other side of a curtain, alone, while you have all the fun,” he starts to pout.  

“Yep, that about sums up your plans for this evening,” she says ignoring him. She drags him along as she lays out the plates and cups for the party. “Do you think one of the ladies will come and sit with me?” He asks in a fake depressed tone. “That’s a big N.O. They all think that you are weird so the chance of one of them leaving the party just to hang out with you is pretty slim,” she laughs. “Wait they think that I am weird? How could they even think that I am weird? If I am weird than you’re weird too. We share the same body,” he rationalizes out loud. “Do we now?” She asks sarcastically. “They think you are weird because you are always staring at them,” she says as though she agrees.

“Well, that is a very unfair opinion about me since you’re always telling me to be quiet whenever they are around and if it isn’t that it’s keep your eyes closed. I’m a guy so of course I’m going to stare every time they want to show you the new under wear they purchased or in the girls locker room,” he says frustrated. There’s a knock at the door. “I’ve had enough with this argument Steven. It is time to be quiet the guests are starting to arrive. We are heading for the door,” she says hurrying for the door. “Thanks for the warning,” he says in a deflated tone.

“Just stay silent and behave Steven, and I will take you to the comic book shop first thing in the morning,” she says as she checks her hair in the mirror. “Fine, but please try to not drink that much. You know how sick I get afterwards,” he requests. “I’ll try to refrain from drinking too much,” she sighs. “Now zip it or no comics,” she says putting on her best fake smile and opening the door. “Who’s ready to party?”

Valerie Hannigan

This isn’t from my book. It was a throw away story and someone liked it. Hopefully, you enjoyed it. I don’t really care, but whatever. Ambrose says I am supposed to talk about what the story is about here. My thoughts and feelings or whatever. (Loud noise in the background… Followed by a long pause…)

The story is about marriage and how the whole institution can feel like there is a dead body attached to you wherever you may go. A soul sucking entity that wants to zap the living life out of you at all times. Did I say dead limb syndrome? I guess you could also say that it is about being a parent as well. If you want you could say it is about anything that makes you happy or sad or nothing at all. I don’t have any siblings so I wouldn’t say it is about that at all. Did I hit the word limit yet?

Check out our shit. Sell your soul before someone else takes it from you. Breathe through your nose and don’t own black sheets. A fountain of information I am not. (Dictated not read…)

Editor’s Note: Her husband is pretty cool… What’s up Steven...

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