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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Amazon

And Other Things From This Time…

Know What I Mean

Do you know what I mean
When I say I am living a lie
No longer mad when I know I should be
Passion is all but a thing of the past
Romance is all but nothing at all
How long do you stare at someone
And realize they are the worst person of all
Is there an etiquette
For cutting loose
The buckling ties that bind?
Do you know what I mean
When I say I am lost and alone
I don’t think that you really do
I think you think everything is still okay
Whatever that means at this point
Such an awful thought to think about
Such a funny after taste after all
For something that was supposed to last forever
I said I loved you
But I guess you didn’t
If you know what I mean

If It Mattered

It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t for all the guilt
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t all that I could think about
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t an addiction
It wouldn’t be so bad
If it wasn’t for all the thoughts of suicide
It wouldn’t be so bad
If I could only do it in the end
It wouldn’t be so bad
If I would only leave it but I can’t
It wouldn’t be so bad
If you had said anything at all

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Post Physical…

My fist pounds. His blood splatters. My fist pounds. His cheek bone gives in. My fist pounds. His skin starts to detach. His face is nothing more than a broken mess. “What did I tell you,” I scream. My vocal cords crack from the sheer force of my scream. He mumbles inconsistent words of skin, blood, bone, and broken teeth. “I said shut the fuck up.” I lay one more bloody fist across his disgusting face. My knuckles are bloody, scraped apart by his teeth among other things. I stare at the monster I have created before getting off of him.

The room is silent though a crowd surrounds us. Camera’s pointing down upon his body before panning over to me. I break the silence as I start answering my emails once again. The click of the mouse and the clicking of my keyboard. Block them out I tell myself. I warned him before he set me off. Everyone is staring me down. “Should have done what I told him to do,” I say to the silent room. “He did this to himself. Who wants to ignore me next?” I ask and they scatter like rats. I’m not normally like this, but I’ve had a fucking enough of these dumb assholes. Someone needed to teach that fucker a lesson.

The cops show up and I don’t resist. “I just need to send this email,” I tell them. Puzzled the two of them don’t know what to say. I click the send button and get up from my chair. One of the officers handcuffs me as the other reads me my rights. They brought the paramedics with them. Silent, but not dead they load his ass onto the stretcher. In time he should be fine and maybe he will have learned his lesson. When someone says not today maybe you should back off. Of course, his dumb ass probably missed the whole point. “That was one hell of an ass whooping you put on that man,” the tall officer says to me. “I think you got in the wrong profession,” the other jokes. They put me into the car. With a bloody knuckle I write a message on the glass in front of me.

Blood and Bone
Self Sacrifice
Now All Alone
I Could Tell
You a Story
But Then You
Still Wouldn’t
Know

M.T. Billings

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And Other Things From This Time…

Fuck It and See What Happens

Historically we have been heading this direction
A dictatorship might do us some good
Democracy was such bullshit in the end
Did we really think that we could pull it off
A day long crisis of faith
Time to pick ourselves back up and do it again
Screaming for blood, screaming for a revolution
All that is, is noises inside your head
Too lazy to get up off your ass
Sucking at the tit of modern industry
If this all collapsed what if anything could you do for yourself
Wipe your tears and understand we were never meant to win
A blanket of hypocrisy pulled tighter with every turn
Broken down system was never going to let the right ones in
Money is all that it takes
Can you speak it, understand it, pray to it
The new gods are paid in gold not hopes and dreams like the old
We talk of freedom as we rattle our chains in protest
Does any of this really surprise you anyway?
The invisible cage of society was built to lock us in
You either struggle to succumb or succumb to struggle
Our voice, our pain, our survival are nothing more than talking points
Bullet points on a page, check marked so they know what to say
No matter the outcome our fears won’t go away
The bottom holds the top because we let it
So shut the fuck up if you are not willing to try
Fuck it and see what happens

So many more pieces left to discover…

Amazon…

Weatherman…

The weatherman calls for rain, but then again it always rains here. The rain is cold and it is harsh against my clothes and against my skin. The rain comes down and it pours, and when it doesn’t pour it turns into mist that surrounds me to always let me know that it is there with me. The rain will never leave.

The weatherman calls for rain. He is an idiot in a village full of them. The rain builds up on the edges of the streets and seeps up on to the sidewalk. The rain puddles becoming giant lakes on the ground. I feel as if I am Jesus walking on water, but the holes in my shoes bring me closer to the ground than closer to god.

The weatherman calls for rain, but what does it matter? When it rains it pours and it makes days seem like weeks and weeks like months. Time stands still here only the rain and the weatherman are a constant around me. Some days it burns and some days it heals, but its presence is always with me. I wonder what it would be like without all the rain.

The weather man calls for rain, and I assume my place once again amongst the rain.

Valerie Hannigan

This micro tale about nothing is inspired by my time in Washington State. Fun fact, it rains there a lot. I remember walking to work and dodging the tidal waves created by the city buses and passing cars. For a place with so much rain it always seemed as the roads were flooded. I often arrived to work soaking wet. It was very humbling and honestly some days I miss it. Maybe it’s the youth I miss. The time before the kids. Not caring about anything. Of course, that wasn’t even the case then. Everything seemed way more important than it ever actually was.  

Another reason I wrote this story was because I could care less about the weather. Not the environment, I care about that put your fangs back in. What I mean is that I don’t care if it is raining or not. It either is or it isn’t. So, to me weather specialist is kind of pointless. Tying it all together there might be some more symbolism in there somewhere. Not sure what it could be. 

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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.

A Running Theme… Stampeded Soul…

On My Mind

Well the revolution it happened so fast
It is as though it didn’t happen at all
Left behind to try and figure out the fragments
Shattered reality, pieces that society left behind
Where do we go from here
Should give up and never start again
My thoughts bleed together to the point
It is as though they never existed at all
All of this in my mind or
Am I missing my mind in all of this
Chewing on the pieces
Where do we go from here
Should give up and never start again
Everything falls apart so fast
It is as though it wasn’t together at all
Shattered throughout time, missing pieces
Left rooted in the gums
Blood dripping down my chin
Shoveling, swallowing all the broken pieces
Where do we go from here
Should have given up and never started again
Always on my mind, mind is always on

Ambrose…. (WordPress wants to auto correct my name to Ambrosia… I’m feeling a change coming along…  probably not though… I’m not cool enough to pull a name like that off…) 

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The Reviews Are In…

This Weeks Winning Review…

“It was actually pretty good.”

Thank You NightRider732…

For your Amazing Review… What A True Funeral Friend…

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Self Destruct… One Word At A Time…

Time ticks by without a name or face
What is it that I’m doing in this place
Lost and dying, I have no time to rest
All I want to do is lay down
Pretend that I’m dead
Peace is a word with no meaning
Who can go in such a fashion in theory
Never wanted to be here, never wanted to leave
Now the choice isn’t up to me
Hope is something I once had
Now I have nothing, never said I was glad
A feeling I once had
The world wants more than they let on
Taking a piece every day
Forgive me if I have nothing left
Forgive me if I gave it all away
Never knew any better
Thought this was what it was all about
A truth I can not speak
An idea I believe but don’t live
A dream buried deep within me
Straggling an idea
Choking at the thought of it all
Another drink and I will be
Too far gone
A place called home
A place I’ve long to become
Lost words in the idea of it all
Meaning more than I’m willing to say
A thought stuck in my throat
Know that I gave it my all
Know that all of this
Has always been for you

Always Going To Wonder

“Do you ever think about reincarnation?”

“In what sense?”

“Maybe we are the reincarnation of our ancestors. So, really we are only living our lives over and over like a messed-up version of purgatory.”

“That would mean there is only a set number of people in existence I’m not even sure how that would work. Given that the number of people on the planet isn’t a constant.”

“Maybe more people are just getting a chance to live?”

“Sure, I guess but why? Why now is God or whatever allowing more people to live?”

“Because things are better than they were?”

“Are they though? If anything, things are only worse and getting worse,” she points out. The silence between them comes flooding back in. “What if you never have kids or can’t? What then your family line ends?”

“Then your family line ends I guess.”

“Okay, where do the extra people come from if there is only a set number of us to jump back in?”

“I don’t know. Okay let’s say that if your family line ends then you join another family somewhere else and start over. That could be where the idea of soul mates comes from. They are looking to find their lost family.”

“I think that the idea of soul mates is dumb enough on its own let alone to be part of your crazy theory.  Honestly it seems like you are pulling this whole thing out of your ass.”

“A theory by any other name,” a long pause. “Okay, but I’m just saying it could be part of it. It doesn’t have to be the end all be all of life, but it could be. Would explain our inherit need to multiply. Each birth is another chance bring someone back to life.”

“What if you die as a child? How is that fair? Within your theory they didn’t get to enjoy a full life or search for their soul mate. They barely got a chance to do anything. What happens to them then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You brought it up and now we have to talk about it. I know you are thinking about it.”

“I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Where else could your theory have come from?”

“I’ll admit it was strange that we tried for so long and it wasn’t until my grandmother passed that our daughter was born. I was thinking about that.”

“So, you think that our daughter contained the soul of your dead grandmother?”

“Well, I don’t think this I’ve only just thought of this because you asked.”

“If our daughter was your grandmother than why?” She pauses trying to keep it together. “Why isn’t she here anymore? She never did anything wrong or hurtful to anyone. Why wasn’t she given more time?”

“I don’t know.”

Valerie Hannigan

For me this is fiction. I have never lost a child, but I can’t say that I have never thought about it. I can’t say that it isn’t a fear either. When I started the story, I wasn’t even thinking about it. Probably had ten million other thoughts on my mind. As my children screamed that they wanted more juice, more food, more of my time, and more of my patience. Then the idea of reincarnation and coming back as something else came into my mind. I’m not sure why, but the desire to be anything else became overwhelming. That is what I wanted to explore.

Maybe, I will go back and explore that idea some other time. Sometimes though we start off wanting to write about one thing and the story takes us someplace else. Some places darker than even we would like. I thought about going into more details and really driving the point home, but I’m not really sure I wanted to go there. Not today at least. I also wanted to push myself to write a story that didn’t contain a setting or a reason for existing. Ambrose calls these passing moment stories. Stories or ideas that are interesting, but don’t go anywhere further.

Writing for the internet is much different than writing for other media. It is about right here right now. Cut to the heart and throw away the rest. I can’t say that I enjoy it more or less. This style is not my preferred way of getting an idea across. I’ll probably never write a story in this format again. With that I am happy with the way it turned out. The story said what it needed to say and so did I.

When She Finishes a Book… We Will Promote It…

Fuck off.

Until Then We Do Have Other Things…

Nothing with my name on it.

Check Them Out Here and Here

I refuse to be ignored.

And Other Things From This Time…

Descending

I forge a path
I forge ahead of the rest
In the end
Left in the back
I dance before I awake
Covered up for good
Yet it is all the same
Visualize in my mind
There’s not much left to hide
My soul bleeds open
As if cut or torn
My mind like one big wound
I was lost and I still am
Time doesn’t heal anything
For the damned
Time does nothing more
Than keep track of everything lost
Bleed like me and I will
Follow the trail into the dark
Bleed like me and I will
Heed your warning until the end
Too late to change anything
Here we go again but in the end
I gave up a long time ago
Before here and now
Deep in the ground

Do Nothing

I bleed and I scream
I dream and I leave
At the time and for me
Life is a glimpse
Of something I don’t know
I wait for a signal
Then at once I should go
The tunnel is dark
Long and without hope
The path is clear
Of hidden danger and the unknown
I bleed and I scream
I dream and I leave
I do something
But in the end I do nothing

Two more poems from our book now available on Kindle… A mixed bag of emotions beat with a small wooden bat… Broke the larger one trying to figure this all out… Desperately need bat money or a new bat… Thanks for the help and your time… Until tomorrow.. Best of luck…

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