My Insane Scribbling
Stones spread well through-out the land, as the temperature has dropped with the weight of a brick. Tears will freeze on your face for all time to laugh and point at; within your graveyard museum, I am waiting forever. Left on my knees, you took my ability to move on, shuffle or walk. My screams work willingly; this pen will make me lose my mind, again, you were my teacher.
An indestructible idea is moulded from the clay of skin that you have left cracked with the bubbles of beneath. Everyone is nobody and I am an alien sent to Earth to take on the pain people prick onto me. My heart is an endless cave, footsteps beat with the dance of escape.
You look upon me as someone who is shipping nowhere but even an unknown voyage arrives at a destination.
Committed to this addiction now, something so beautiful turns quickly into death. Kaleidoscopes of vibrant pills turn the viewer into a handful of pills, which transforms into a mouthful; the results are in as a pill problem.
Everything is falling apart, I can see the bones of reality; eyes – flay all that is real to me. A problem is born again. I am lost within this mind, found within the madness of my words. I pelt my way from rejection letter to relationship rejection, hope to hopelessness, literary to literary agents, the night and its loneliness is what I am left with. I will hide above these murky clouds one day. I used to believe as a child that when it rained someone died, now even my beliefs are all lies. I am so resilient today; I make up my own stories to destroy your beliefs, lots of laughs.
My mother speaks on behalf of my subconscious to make sure my choices are no longer wrong. When will I put this knife down? Trying to put an end to this endless life. Drunk spits at my mirror reflections. Alex; pick-up your whiskey bottle, write your life-out and toast to death. Congratulations, you are now evil. You can now let your soul fall from your mouth and lock it within a jar with no air; shake it and threaten it with fire.
I need a sharper knife. You have opened your armour, dumb-wittingly, within the moonlight show this world a beast along with your love with the same mouth. Howl at the sun so there is no more night-time. Spiral your fingers around your throat like a suicidal snake, keep hold of that dream. Lash another wrist, lash another. What came first within my life, time or death? Cannot have one without the other, I guess they come from the same cut. We shall see soon.
- 18 Literary Agents Who Are Looking for You (joanyedwards.wordpress.com)
- Advice For Writers From Literary Agents (princessofthelight.wordpress.com)
- The Human Howl – Fiction by Alexander Kennedy (youngadultfictionblog.wordpress.com)