Tag Archives: Insanity

What Did I Just Write? What Was I Thinking?


2014 Alex kennedy

What did I just write? What was I thinking?

The jags from their stares wrench and echo beyond my eyes, their eyes are now chock-a-block with a monster. I invert my own look towards a daydream away from this pit of despair I helped dig for them. Hands clenched within my pockets, they will never know how close they had come to a detrimental dental demise. I tell myself, they lie through their teeth, smash through those pearly whites and find self-satisfaction within the truth.

Raise Hell!

They’re coming to take me away to the funny-farm; I’m up-in-arms, hooray! The dark clouds are forming above; Hells-mouth is foaming for a taste of me beneath, especially when I drive my evil pen through these skinned sheets. They call me bad names, they call me ugly, that’s okay, because so are you! How I sleep well with my disfigurement? I dream of killing you! I’m prising open hell; you’re all men of God, have faith in me when I say, I’m a man of my words. Now the world of words should have begged my momma to boil this baby at birth.

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I’m the writer the good book looked-upon and shook fear from their every praying nook. I see words differently; they could be definitively disastrous definitely, defacing dimensions infinity infamously from the dragon inside me, diminishing dabblers dripping ink trying to deign diamonds. (That rhymes…. Fools.) YOU’RE IN MY WORKSHOP!!! I cycle down the path of a serial killing psychopath; reading recycled crap, redial that, RECYCLED CRAP!

pics of me for my blog 3

I’m done being the nice guy, time to write or time to die, lost my fights and ran for my life. This is the return of Alexander Kennedy, the evil pen strikes back. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make it the most gruesome that these people have ever seen. What am I thinking? What am I writing? Alex, there is a method to your madness, can’t you see? I’m starting a war against humanity, sanity is the culprit and it must be smudged clean from this spirally flushed floating toilet.

there is evil within us

Bring you picket signs, pitchforks and lit torch, gather round, gather round the monster writer of the century. Sane people fear what they don’t understand and cannot control; I don’t play well with others, why do you think since I grow teeth they kept me caged up? I can out-write you all with my left arm tied behind my back. I cannot rub out these words, like when the world tried to rub out this mistake. I auto-corrected myself and picked up a dictionary for meaning for the word, Pain.

I learned a few more bad words along my way; I don’t need swear words to curse at you. I write you into my world and let the ground swallow you whole. An emptied soul and a mind full of poetic words help formulate a plan beyond insane proportions. I peel my skin and try to fit in, but sooner or later they find new ways to get to me, further under my skin. So I put my faith and collective insanity and create a fictional world, where human rules do not apply, only the evilness that seeps from me. So I will slog my way through the slutty, semi-silent but slithering away siren ridden streets for some sort of success. I will figure out a way to pull your eyeballs out to my blog; and once I am in your minds, I will manipulate my way to the top of the food chain and then start to munch my way down the pyramid.

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So you can blame Eminem for giving me a second chance at life; Or you can blame my mother for giving birth to me. But it is society in a whole that failed me, pushed and pulled me to my own extinction, this is not an attitude problem, this is manmade evil. I’m your Frankenstein monster, you do not wish to confront. But just know I will take everything from you. This is all I know. This is my design.

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I scrape my nails across my face,

Self-hate has set sail for that new place,

A doomed fate,

The world is clueless to this,

It’s as easy as tying my shoelace.

One thousand screams,

Confounded dreams,

Come huddle round my murder scenes,

Doctors try to de-feather me,

But they looked further in me,

And heard him climbing.

Now I’m breaking free,

They took everything from me,

Here’s their severance pay,

For all eternity.

Living in this glass cage,

Stopping me from a rampage,

But this is my bat-cave,

I’m planning your last days,

While you’re in the fast lane,

On this world as a bad stain,

The world will have a bad day,

Now watch as I make the glass break

And come around your way.

 

 

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The Mental Patient – To Hell Embark


This is my story of being a real life mental patient; roughly based of course. PLEASE LIKE!

Psychopath

The Mental Patient – To Hell Embark

Standing under the spotlight of sanity, I understand I will never be understood. A hand placed firmly upon my shoulder from the orderly to my right. I walk at my own pace to the drum march of hapless disobedience. Squinting eyes peer and pierce my skin from the small wire mesh windows of their cell doors. This walk is endless; I clutch my coat, with thought of fighting freedom. There is no escaping from this.

The infamously curious Dr. Mackay waits at the bottom of tunnel vision hallway, for possibly a quick meet and greet; pill pop and off you pop. I doubt it though. He stands with such poise in his thousand pound suit. He doesn’t fool me, not while his glasses are balancing to stay focused upon his face.

“You must be Alex. Welcome to Newbridges Mental Health Hospital. Today is purely for introduction purposes, we’ll show you around, meet some of the other people who stay here before we let you get settled in. How does that sound?” He finishes with eerie smile. Does someone want to tell this douche I am completely fine?

“Can’t wait, it sounds awesome.” I make no attempt to hide my sarcasm.

“I am sure after a while you will appreciate what we do here, which inevitably you will appreciate more, later on, I am sure of it.” There’s that smile again. I hate it here already.

A stunning woman roughly the same age as myself, she wafts her below shoulder arid hair while she steps through a buzzer-door from behind the doctor.

“Ah, here she comes. This is Jade she is the nurse for this wing of the hospital. Any problems whatsoever come see Jade.”

“Hi there, Alex, like the doctor says, if you have any problems with other patients here or health related problems, do not hesitate to come talk to me, I am usually around until 7pm then I go home, so you will have to talk to the night nurse or one of the orderlies.”

“Well I shall leave you two to talk and have a gander around. Alex, I have already scheduled you in for a meeting for around ten thirty tomorrow morning, so be up and ready by then if you can.” He cocks his head and oddly winks my way. I give him the thumbs-up when I should have given him the middle finger.

The humongous male orderly from behind me joins Dr. Mackay; one clips away the other stomps. I look for all of my exits and all I see are mesh, bars and electrical button pads; I am stuck here. I roll my eyes to the events which have brought me to my knees practically in this Hell-Hole.

I scrunch up my coat to distress my fingertips and to stop me from swiping at people.

Jade stand idly with a gaze of intrigue in-between each blink she produces.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I firmly drawl.

“I was waiting for you to make the first move. Now that you have let me tell you, this place ain’t so bad. I just want to help you, remember that, we all do. But after reading you file, may I say, you don’t seem like the same person from paper.” I jump her words.

“That’s because I never wrote it…”

“So you like to write? Could that be something you could see yourself doing?”

“I don’t man, I just don’t want to be here right now, so if that mean taking a splash into my imagination, so be it… But I have been known to throw one or two words together in my time.”

She grins from one side of her face. This chick is a stunner, too bad the band on her finger says she is married. I’ve never been one for keeping to the guidelines of life; I mean look at my predicament I am in.

“Alex, walk with me.” We begin calmly strolling over the excessively cleaned reflective floor into a larger room. Several security cameras are protected by metal frames, same with the television. All larger objects such as chairs and tables look to me screwed into the ground for safety measures.

“This is the common area, all of the patients usually cluster in here every day, unless they have earned their stars and have been given a pass to go outside. You will be monitored closely if you are with a group of friends to when you are by yourself; no exceptions. The television is usually on, we do not watch anything which may evoke angry emotions, so we keep it to educational channels. Once a week we will watch a movie, one we all want to watch; also three square meals a day and finally a partridge in a pear tree. How does that sound?”

I scratch the back of my head in unmoving boredom.

“I’m sure I can manage. Can we put this thing on hold, I was given some meds when I came in and all I want to do is crash-out and sleep.” I slightly slur.

“Sure thing, we can continue our little walk some other time when you’re ready; C’mon, this way to your room.” She swiftly shifts around my sluggish limbs.

I enter through a door which Jade keeps open for me. A bed, desk, one chair and an on suite bathroom is all I have. I must be moving up in the world.

“I know it’s not much to look at now, but once you settle in I am sure you will think of this as your own room.” She places her hand on my back.

“Thanks. But for right now, all I want to do is, give my pillow some head and my sheets some ass.”

She giggles in the most peculiar high pitch way.

“That was funny. We do quiet checkups on the hour every hour. It’s not that we want to invade your privacy, but you never know. Have a nice sleep and I will see you soon, Alex.

“Hopefully…” I play the cool card on her.

She exits the door in her own time, her eye bouncing on and off me. The lock turns and I turn my guards off and chuck myself on the bed for a medication nap.

PLEASE LIKE!

Alex.

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Writing Sanity is Insane 2


Insane 11

My opaquely dysfunctional posture stands firm, this sedition could coffin this world. The human race kicked me out of their private club-house, now I am taking up new hobbies, dismemberment.  I am transcending through my writing, my transport to the other world. My climb to the top is in a spiral staircase crisis, giving myself a minuscule nudge into the unknown immortal coil, this is all I know. Read between my lines until you get cross-eyed.

I am a totem of total solemn; my soul purpose in this asylum is to tear until worn-out, my body, collapse these obituary columns which keep me grounded whilst I run away from my demons. Where I have been, your imagination is classed as a weapon for explosive exploitation; I swaddle all of this twaddle I dabbled in. Mirror promises with filled eyes, I can’t look at myself, the fear will become non-fiction.

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I overshadow my own characteristics, feral and feeble, I paint on a clown smile; the tears are real. These words may seem as a pathetic or embarrassing; this is only the top layer of my thick skin I am flaying and writing upon. I emaciate my mind so I can traipse back from the fires inside; I fill these pages because I can no longer afford to fill myself. All I can do is march forward with my fingers.

I learned from when I was a toddler, people are the worst type of monsters; so I grew-some and became gruesome.

I have a way of bringing the best out of you when the worst is going on. I notice everyone jumping on the bandwagon whilst I am fall off the wagon. I don’t want your money or pity, I want your eyes. I can show any extra enemy an empty welcome entry or experimental empathy entirely for eternity, depending on my mood. I will never divide my divine but deny all of this denial as the devil has deeded death on me.

Slinging slithering slander as a sufficient serpent strike suffering in stupendous stillness. This is where I will be, padded cells for all. Blessed with this curse to slur my toxic thoughts from my fantasy world ravished by war, patients versus doctors; who will win? Who will win? Me…

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The Mental Insanity of This Person, by These People, is for Those People and Shall Not Perish from This Earth


 

Writing insane

I’m bringing the straightjacket back into fashion; I am a radical mind-moulding designer.  No longer shall I solitary confine my emotions or sedate my madness, I will scream my demons throughout this night and keep the world awake. My warped mind is set for warp speed, there is no doctor out there who can talk to me; I’m a brick wall, it’s the same as trying to get blood from a stone. My temper flares and I shall rain fire upon this world whilst I am reigning in the fires of this so-called hell.

I’m taking over this asylum, the disturbed patients are now in charge; if you follow my demands you can have your brains back in one piece. I am the ultimate escape artist, I’ve lost myself and mind at the same time. Ramblings, babblings, salivating, crap flinging, raggedy sayings, tablet taking, mad at faces, I can’t take this.

I have insanity on my side, it is the only nightmarish dream I believe in. The mental insanity of this person, by these people, is for those people and shall not perish from this Earth. Craziness is my religion and I am the high priest of it all, worship the good book, my mental health report. I am a second-hand collector; I only hang around with people who are broken and damaged. Bring forth the tranquilizers, our drug and love of choice.

Darkness pic

We cannot halt our laughs at you sane people; screwball abnormal, zany walks of insane, true or false vocals, running around naked in the rain; Nap times with a needle, lock & keys are the parents.

Captured by my past, my memories have gotten me prisoner, remembrance is my murder, locked down forever.  I am torturing the rear of my eyelids; squeeze tight until a migraine takes my forethought away from this place. These are the voyages of my dark diaries days; scrawl my bawls when a tear comes to visit. I am trying to get my talent off the ground, carve an S on my chest and fly away in my head. Schizoid-man to the rescue!

Finding my shattered parts of me and pulling myself together, I am drowning in the recollections, my own life jacket has transformed to straight. This world breaks into my psyche until I am broken, listen out for the snap and observe the repercussions with thunderous percussions.  My darkness is coming, everyone run! I will be raining fire whilst reigning in the fires.

I’m not getting dressed today; my hands and feet are tied, sorry. Is there a doctor in the house? I guess I will treat myself.

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This Pen Is a Monster; It’s The Only One That Gets me!


what-i-really-do-writer

This pen is a monster; it’s the only one that gets me!

I’m coming for it all, one last stand on every piece of paper, crumple it up and use them as bombs or make myself paper aeroplanes. Extremists, Haha! Please… I’m an extreme extremist; I eat terrorists as if they were bubble-gum, see what I did there? I just blew-up another one. Pop! I’ll be waiting here forever on these pages; a pen as my gravestone, a bunch of blunt pencils as flowers and a papier-mâché coffin.  I’m throwing sucker-punches at this page but this isn’t the bible, less holy! My life stinks, I can’t even afford to pay my water bill; I’m the stinky-kid. Help me, I’m a writer! What have I gotten myself involved in? I’m sick of this life; this must be the withdrawal from sanity. What can I do with this life except become a writer; there a light-bulb has just switched on, turn it off! This headache is getting worse. My words jump straight off the page, don’t they? Beware they could blind you.

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This whole big bad world has nothing on me, why do you think I peeled off my own skin? I wanted to become appealing to everyone. You cannot do what I do; you can only do what I cannot do, which is stop and fail. I’m now stabbing my eyes with my pen, so I can really see what I am writing for you. Can you see passed my words and see the light? Here, let me put this computer over your head. This is what I’m meant for; to me it’s as if I’m carving my name in cement. It’s that easy!

So throw all your pens up in the air, blacken out my Sun, no matter; I write in the darkness. Human emotion is my only kryptonite; it radiates through and clouds my vision, I just have to remember I’m not human. I live in this pen, I live in these words, now you have read me; I’m on your mind – my job is done. Don’t blame my mother; she did her best to raise Hell! From every litter you must have a runt, that’s me. I’m Mr. Brightside though; I must have rolled on my side on this hellfire. I could always count my blessings in life but I’m a writer, I don’t deal in numbers.

when you start getting resentful

I sleep with this pen every night; I think I have contracted ink-poisoning, it’s life-threatening with every word I scribble. Fame is in a frame on my mantle, I’m in love with her but she is too busy satisfying other people but I will be the love of her life, until we’re both dead! I bucking-bronco off all of my mental baggage, I’m sick of carrying all of the dirty laundry; they call me a pig-headed ass!

there is evil within us

Why are you asking me to leave? I don’t even live on this world. These aren’t words, they are only spasms I suffer with, so what exactly are you reading? That’s right, nothingness. Why are you here? You could be writing screenplays, you could be living your perfect life, you could be making money; don’t do what I’m doing, I’m doomed!

On a scale of one to five, in women’s eyes, I’m usually number 4. Why do you think I never step forward in this line up? I don’t want to be underrated. But I did it! It’s like a murder he wrote.

I burst into laughter every time I read my journal, my life is such a sick-joke it’s actually funny. I can’t talk to some people, I get more sense from talking to brick-walls, so I did that and they tried locking me up for that too.

A problem shared is a problem doubled, my words can be infectious. Does Alex live here? Sorry, his upstairs is vacant. This pen is a monster; it’s the only one that gets me. We’re all prisoners behind this mortar; I’m reaching through the brickwork to show you I’m still alive.

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And as soon as my stars have aligned, you can then watch me as I shoot! Because I’ll be a Superstar.

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