It’s A Funny Story… Even If It Isn’t…

Trying something new… Imagine that… I haven’t written anything new outside of poetry and the new story I am working on… Sadly that isn’t for the website… Redoing my next book… well kind of… I had this whole theme I was running through the whole book… I didn’t like it… not the story, but the theme… or the idea… shit happens… so I am overhauling a few things… and none of this matters… 

Recently I have decided that I’m really into board game boards… it is for an art project that I have locked in my head… so I went to my local Goodwill… and picked up any that I found interesting… one of them happened to be the Match Game… or so I thought… what I actually got was some came from the 70’s called The Ungame… yeah I had never heard of it either… more about the history of the game here… well the point of the game is to start a conversation or get you talking… the concept is just lame enough that I am in love with it… we are going to play a little game… 

Chewing On Glass Logo

 

The Question

What activity do you engage in that involves all of you: your mind, your body, and your soul?

The most obvious answer for me is writing… I put everything into this… my books… and my projects… so I’m not going to waste your time telling you something you could have guessed…So I am going to have to go with the thing that takes more of me than writing… My daughter… 

Mind… my daughter tests me every day with her three million questions about the same thing… or when she says… “I show you… I show you”… when she wants me to hear her sing… as I am trying to put out a grill fire… life be damned… stop and look at me… or when I have to hear Twinkle Twinkle Litte Star one more damn time… when all I want to do is listen to my favorite song… 

Body… whether she is digging her tiny little feet into me like I don’t exist… or swinging her arms at me like a crazed mad woman when she doesn’t want to leave the park… making me look like a kidnapper or awful person… or screaming into my ear to the point that it rings… because why not… “You’re so funny”… No, I’m so deaf now… 

Soul… because I would give her mine without a second thought… even if it was to add only one more second to hers.. she is one wild crazy ass child… but every moment with her is worth whatever it cost… I don’t think the meaning of life is to create life… but I do believe that she has become my purpose in this world…

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

Something Different… In Your Own Words…

Perspective In The Infinite…
By: Sylvia Ambrose

I choke with every breath of air
It stands still and it tastes stale
I cringe at all the sounds of life
They shake my bones and make them frail
I find it harder everyday to keep the things
That make me care

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and very loud

Every breath a gasp and blink a weep
It feels easier to let the dark creep
Into my mind and let it drain
Into my veins so they seep

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and very loud

I think of final vitals, it wanders through my mind
It sends a lovely shiver up and into my spine
These thoughts and feelings never subside
I wish that I could have a hole
A place to hide, my last home

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and way too loud

I’ll find a way to make it end
Not by conclusion, but my own hand
Take the illusion, the one I had
Erase it all, now its not so bad

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and way too loud

Sylvia Ambrose

Now we know who has the most talent in that family…

-Valerie

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

Crossing The River Of Hypocrisy…

Rest Forever When We Are Dead
The feeling slips away from me
Your soft skin drags across the floor
The shredded self of worthlessness
Deception is the only way to communicate
Letters become words
Broken sentences of a useless paragraph
They say you’re dead
But when you died is undecided
Killed you in my mind so long ago
So I thought, believe in nothing until
You’re stand on its grave
A six-foot ditch dug for you
No one asked, took it upon myself
Because you know we are friends
Don’t mistake the smile for anything less
I’ve never wanted anything more
Then to listen to your final breath
God and country could never take away
What I’ve already been given

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

Watching The World Go By… In Ever Passing Moments…

The Plan

Feelings disappear into the light
Faded but always there
Moments in time seems to last forever
Seconds of thought, a lifetime of regret
Decisions made that can’t be undone
Another day in the life of someone else
Too afraid to take a step
Backwards or forwards there is nothing left
Feelings reappearing every night
Haunting me from the shadows
Crosses burning, signaling a fight
A struggle so unreal that it has to be real life
A thought that doesn’t cross empty minds
Time has a way or remaining all the same
People don’t change only the time and place
Lost in a cycle that can’t possibly end
Given up only to just begin
Suffering was always the ultimate plan

Mapping out how I would feel
Planning every occurrence that makes this unreal
A desperation so pure
A rotting life left with no cure

Short post today… I’m not feeling today at all… which is an odd way to say that I am feeling too much… too many thoughts to make any sense… ever passing moment… there is a war inside my head… a battle to keep going on… versus a force that says lay down and die… dig a hole and crawl in… ever passing moment… self-destruction was never my thing… only a dream… locked inside my head… “Want to destroy something beautiful”… what is it that I want to destroy?… when I’m so ugly… scared… broken… the surface still… calm… chaos hidden from view… tearing my throat out… won’t shut up… tearing my soul to pieces… can’t give up… some part of me… still in here… in some way… waiting out the storm… ever passing moment… I’m only trying to live… 

“This chicken is really spicy!!!”… My daughter… made me smile when I wanted to cry… all I added was a hint of pepper… little things that make no sense… change of mood… love her… even if I don’t love myself… comforting to know I love at all… 

Something Different…

Thoughts in My Head

When the world ends
There won’t be anything left to say we were here
But I’m sure somehow, some way
I’ll be staring at your face for all eternity
Your demon-like eyes and your poisonous thighs
Will all, but warm me by the fire
So cold I will still be, that none of this
Will ever seem like it truly exists
Trapped in a wake
Trapped in an illusion
It doesn’t need a name but
Most people call it hell
I can feel our newly developed spines
Piercing the skin, digging deeper
Your cold dead fingers latch onto my soul
I know now that you will never let go
I told myself it was okay at first
But now I wish I could cut and run
Trapped in my mind
Trapped in my head
Most people call it a nightmare
I’m left calling it home

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

And Other Things From This Time…

Mountain of Questions

The white picket fences have been torn down
From the post to the ground
It all lays flat all around
The existence of dreams proves
There is something more to you and me
The clothes have all but come off
From our heads to our toes
They lay flat on the floor
The fact that we aren’t disgusted yet proves
There is something more to you and me
The marriage is all but gone
Divorce tore everything apart
Right the fuck out the ground
The anger between us proves
There is so much more to you and me

They say fire lead to life
Then what did love bring to the picture
Some could guess but the true answer is death
We pretend it’s funny because it is
You know it’s sad, but it’s the truth that hurts
If you hold your breath long enough then maybe
That dizzy, sickness feeling won’t go away
Walk it off, the pain subsides after a while
At some point, so I’ve been told
So I’ve been told for too long
If you know anything about bottles
You’ll know they don’t leave any answers
Only a mountain of questions

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

At Least That’s A Start…

The Drugs Aren’t Helping, Take Two A Day

Doing nothing drives the sanest insane
Bring me some new pain
I know I can take it
At all costs, it has to be this way
In the darkest holes I have found
I’ll be fine, wanted you to know
Dragging me through hell
This place I call home
Miss it more than I could know
Simple minded, stupid, what you will
I’ll survive, I’ll find a way to make it
Who I am, Who I’ve always been
Smiling and digging a grave
In your name I pray
You’ll never feel the way I do
I will always fail at this thing
Called life
I will always find a way
To embrace the things

I never wanted out of life

Gasping for the Air that Surrounds Me…

Ark

The darkness surrounds me
As the rain falls down

Over the sky, blood drips down
Signaling only death
I hope you all drown
I hope someday you are found
Bleed me slowly and see
If I’m still alive
You all said I was crazy

Said I didn’t know anything
A child with adult eyes

The cuts they hurt
More in the beginning
Stones casted out, words with so much meaning
What was the point if not intended to hurt

Time has a way of healing broken wounds
Time has a way to make it go away
All of this all over again
Clairvoyant even in the womb
Because I know
I’ve always known
How all of this ends

Gather around, get to together
Pick and choose
But you should know
Not all of you
None of you will be
Here when it is all through
An endless time born to repeat
A drowning, a rebirth, a life destined to live
Born to be who we were always going to be
Keep destroying, keep hurting, keep doing it all
Free will was never a choice
Only a way of life
I never saved anything only kept it going
God spoke to me and I chose

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

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…