The Fall Into Love – Short Love Story

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Falling In Love

I have finally fell in love and it is about to destroy me on this skyscrapers rooftop.

“Please, get back from the edge!” I shout at her unlistening ears. She has her arms open wide, ready to be caught by deaths grip and be auctioned off to the night at half price for her half-life. She is standing in her spotlight from the night’s sky with the idea of stepping down from her stage to end her final act. The moon is laughing at our light.

“Just look at me; just look at me… please.” The tears free fall from my face. The wind pushes against her, whispering warnings of what is to come as it makes her hair whip and dance. Gravity is the middle man within our triangle but bargaining with his power on his edge, results in death. She must remember me as she is still wearing the white dress I had bought her, if she only she took my arm and we take off to pursue life together again, hand in hand before death do us part. Her heart is cheating beats which is slowly killing her, this is the reasoning behind us being here.

“What will I do if you do this?” I ask her. “You will go on without me.” She replies calmly. This is a nightmare. “But the best dreams happen in real life; don’t you want to be part of that?” She turns her head to the misty rain that has begun to lie upon the horizon making everything distort, life is bleaker than the weather.

“If you do this, food will taste like it has been poisoned, water will seem dry and time will have no hands to save you.” She adds to the rain with her tears.

“Life is like a strand of hair, it can be as long as you want or as short as you need it, isn’t that my decision?” She says quietly to the wind. “In sickness or in Health… I said those words to you and you alone; I never backed away from what I pledged!” I plead to her emotions. So why is this happening. I look at my phone thinking about dialing for help but it is already too late. Love is the killer to the heart, not the sword or arrow but used as a weapon against itself.

“We can get the help, the doctor said there was still time.” I say almost giving up. Whoso findeth a wife, findeth a good thing, but bad things soon follow. I throw my sight to the floor, collapsed eyelids and all.

“Come with me.” She wind-whispers to me, I don’t make eye contact; searching for a new answer to our old problem. Thunder murmurs from behind the black clouds which are passing over head. Weather calls for extreme conditions; angels will fall as the world sits by and listens. I nod slowly, holding back the right thing to say. She holds out the hand I have always held, I walk over and take hold, bringing myself up to her new level of living. I look down, the streets seem like mazes for mice and the people are going about their business, unknowingly.

“We shall take on death together.” I say to her, brushing her hair behind her ear. She wraps her arms around me and presses her head against my chest. “I love you so much. Whither thou goest I will go. That is my purpose.” She says. The destruction of my world is true love I gift upon you, dismantling my heart and sharing the pieces equally between us, who could want more? “I love you too.” I say. We tilt to the side within a deep breath of one another. We fall, still gazing into the eyes we wake up to each morning. It still puts a smile on my face. The roar and scorn of the wind rages passed our ear.

“Any regrets?!” I shout. “Not loving you longer.” She replies. Kissing me as the ground creeps closer. This is how you fall into love.

———

(Thanks for reading. It was an epic story, wasn’t it? If you could leave a like, that’ll be great, cheers.)

Keeping my pen busy….Always

Alex

Just Killed a Man – Fiction Story

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I Just Killed a Man

What have I done? I am beautifully crafted with a handful of red, heavily I am bound to this tool until my fingers lose grip. I want to go to that place, the one that calms me, no more shakes. It is a kind of hunger; I have starved myself for to long, blooded bulimia… that is it. I have painted their life story over these walls; the house will remember the novel until rubble is its end page. Wandering eyes wander for better times, this wasn’t me, I am a protector, it makes no difference as I have no story.  My first few chapters were blurred by staining. They won’t understand… they never did to me, how can they connect correct actions into opened cuts? I don’t know if I feel better, I don’t know… shake my head to stir the pot, the truth will be in the end result. Did you hear that? Have I received an extra eye? Seen me murder a man, I could have infected their life, forever.

I re-pick-up my instrument and step to play some notes, if there is more than one, a symphony I will take from their lungs. I map my head around the corner, no one to be hidden, my mind is flickering and in over thought. No more thoughts are my own, taken by haunt, aging on the spot, engaging and caught, that’s why they got chopped. Why is there a why? Echoed and yelled, a deadly spell, granted and wished upon, I rubbed the knife and made no wish. Come back to the scene, lifeless and no audience showing the elements.

I watched him now as I watch him before, in my eyes I visualized this moment over and over and more and more. Fate for him was a date I would never forget, chiseled into my memory each bang with the hammer was a lunging motion with my utensil. Do I truly understand? Do you? …No. I have killed, to be honest; the rush was a heart thumper that pumped the honesty from my heart. Like my first sex act in a diaries note, yes, this room is unhygienic and grime licked but in either position you would not care unless the thirst was drank away. Why am I still here? Still thinking of this… The deed is done, leave.

No, I can’t, I want to soak up the enormity of this, when in my life will I get this chance again? Whenever I want, Invincible, untouchable, unreliable, that’s a lot of ables. The answer I already know to the question I am about to ask, if that was me, would you cry? Nope, If I was in that state, there would be no humane connection in emotion, a name spoken once in a casual conversation, is that all I am worth? I am a God in my own right now; I can make life and take it from those who do not deserve it.

Just slide down the wall and watch, don’t blink, do not even breath heavy, do not give into the fear of what might become from this event, which wants to crash upon you, it is just an emotion within you and you control you. Look at the blade, am I really that stretchy? I am a monster; I am an alien, is that why I did this? My nature is to blame then. The law will be here, I give it hours to days, they will catch up to me and on the third Sunday I shall be judged, so be it. I should stop myself now, put my self out of this world before the misery sets in. What have I done? What have I done?

He should have listened, shouldn’t he, my want wasn’t that steep for him to jump, his pride and manly standard brought him to his back, his fault, his. The angels are looking down at me with a shaking finger then pointing to the floor, hellbound, I should be putting my hands together to pray but I can’t drop the blooded instigator from my finger-tips. No more from his mouth now, that’s what I was chasing. How did I get here? I mean be pushed into doing this… I am smarter and I have stronger will, Murder! …Murder! …What have I done!?

Perhaps he is merely lurking in a slumber waiting to see me cry and jumping from this story, perhaps not. Let myself now be judged by me and me alone, I am one of those people who should be locked up indefinite, kept from socializing, kept from me, I deserve what he got ten fold, just a matter of timing. Step to the window, this maybe the last time to see and feel freedom. Look at the instrument again, play it one more time, now for your encore, show this world what truly happens to man when he is cornered by the world, God, take your life in to your own hands and scream to the Heavens so that Hell shakes even the darkest of souls. My actions are not meant for this world, so neither I am, do it do it now. Spread your wings and give back to the world what it has given you. Look… this is me, is this you wanted, well you finally have. What have I done?

World War Wednesday

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I’m sitting in this trench; my feet are slowly sinking into the mud and blood puddles. The rain is coming in from the west of the alien country shown in the opposed soldier’s eyes and uniforms, Germany. I press my rifle barrel against my forehead, just last week ago Scotch took the barrel to his mouth; I squeeze my eyes closed because I was the one that found him. I can hear the bullet shivering in the gun, either it’s the bullet trembling or it is me, either way I will not condemn this bullet if it was too scared to exit its purpose hole as I would not like to be condemned if I never wanted to jump over Ends Edge into Deaths Playground.

Are we here to win this war or are we just Cannon-fodder? I am not even going to put to rest my curiosity to see if that was catapult fire or thunder, I will sit here and pretend nothing exploded, I will simply scope through our grave for the time being where time is our biggest killer and hopes for us going home, keep us alive.

All I see is fear but I don’t want anyone to know I am fear ridden so I pull out my tobacco tin and rolling papers, as I roll my cigarette and lick the paper, I catch a glimpse of four men huddling around a going out fire, they are laughing, probably about an obscene joke but at every breath the group take, they have an undertone of an unsettling truth, destiny and inevitability. Every man looks at their weapons or hands or at Ends Edge, knowing out time for our movement into Deaths Playground will be soon. A whisper leaping from one man to the next, from ear to mouth reaches me saying “Five minutes.”

I throw my half smoked cigarette against the mud wall opposite me. Recount my pointed off chasing killers, grenades and breathe. I can’t be afraid no more; this is what I was trained for. I look at the sky passed the black smoke and dark passing clouds, it is still so beautiful in its endlessness blue, I touch the ground, shaping my initials in the mud so people knew I was sitting here, I don’t want anyone to steal my seat. I smell the gun smoked air, it maybe not be my mother’s cooked dinners but it will have to do. Men down the trench are getting into position, kneeling under Ends Edge, making their peace with God or saying prayers to their hidden necklaces or staring at the sky of black smoke silently or to family photographs and memory but I know now I am not alone, that is the thing that gives me hope. A nod of “I will look out for you, out there” ripples through the men.

I wipe my nervous brow but I am just adding mud to mud. Screams and shouts begin to erupt; now gun fire feels as though it is time to step in. It is time, I stand and place my hand of Ends Edge it is not that scary it should be called The Edge of muddy Oblivion. I jump as everyone else does to the chance to make proud my brothers, friends, family, country and most of all for all freedom. A single shot…

The Fire Inside Me

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The Fire Inside Me

Standing in the flames of these words, all I can do with them is set my world on fire. I’m enjoying this pain; let us dance on the ashes of this painful reminder, life. I am more human than human. I cape over this page as if I were a marvel, bitten by a radioactive firefly; guess what my power is? My self-destruct button has been detonated, a magic mushroom cloud you can read as a nightmare. Do you have smoke in your eyes or are you rubbing your peepers in amazement? I’m drowning on this page; I jumped straight in this deep end, my pen is my life-guard; but don’t save me yet, I’m on fire!

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Stop reading this! My words concocted with my pain can burn out your eyes. You don’t use them anyways; you only read half the stories or read into half-truths. My flair never spontaneously combusted, I had to find the strike for the right match for my mind to go up in flames. I’m enflamed with empathy, I’m flame-retardant; my crazy is never empty. I’m bringing an archaic firing to this paper; this is my form of an S.O.S! I’m holding up my lighter towards the sky. Too intense for the eyes to warrant a tear, my skin will burn and bubble and eventually seep off from my bones. I’m reheating my memories for my fire-demon to slurp up for dessert. Revenge is ice-cream! A dish best served cold; I run on scolding hot exhaust fumes; how can I bestow a forest-fire on all those that are cold?

I’m living in the past with these third degree burns, scars have funny ways of reminding you of past mistakes you have made. I scribble with sizzle, fizzle and scrape. I’m breathing an inferno while it’s raining torrential, steaming up your computer screen.

I’m a jack of all trades,

I’ve gotten the rapid response late,

When I blow my top,

Along with volcano rocks,

My magma words roll this way!

Raining fire

Am I destined for greatness with my stories or am I flying too close to the sun? That’s right, melt my wings, boot me out of heaven; I’m already living in Hell. I’m rain-dancing naked, let it reign fire. I’m only a phoenix rising from the ashes, so let me write in peace.

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Saved By An Angel – Part 2

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Saved By An Angel – Part Two

As people shoulder straight through Jack, he seems unmoved by their barge, walking side by side with me. Crowds of people are herding either towards school or work, the whole sidewalk is ram-packed.

“Okay, time for a game changer, Natalie. What I am planning to do is to rebuild you, saying that, I will have to destroy you first; all in a hypothetical sense.” Jack reasons, fingering his septum above his upper-lip.

I stop in my track and share a glare of unease to his witty grin. He turns and stands right in front of me.

“What did I tell you? I asked you to trust me, it won’t hurt one bit, well not physically.” He chuckles as he re-turns and begins walking again. I really do not fancy answering him within this swarm of walkers; I don’t think I could handle the weird looks, laughs and points of their normal ways.

I jog up to his pace and take out my Galaxy S4 Mini phone and hold it to my ear.

“Jack, what do you have planned? You have a look in your eyes that’s not really settling well within me.”

He halts and looks over someone’s shoulder as they are reading text messages; the young ladies life Jack scopes into has a smile cut right across her face, the message must be a good one perhaps from a new love. He claps his hands together.

“I’ve got it and we can do it before school, Nat. Onwards and upwards!” Jack pinches my cheeks with so much excitement which emulates from his facial expression. He grabs my hand and tugs me down the street, all the by-passers look on to me being dragged by an invisible force.

“Jack, if you don’t stop pulling me I will be forced to call you an Archangel.” Jack stops in his track but I keep staggering and hurtle straight into his back.

“Hey, Guardian Angels are the poor men in heaven and those Ass-Angels are the movie stars. I am nothing like those douche bags and I sleep better knowing that.” He affirms with a cocky tone.  “We’re at your first task anyway.” He pecks me on the cheek. My affinity for this man, slash angel is growing on me.

“Task? What task? I thought you were sent here to help me.” He creeps up to me and throws his arm around me. “I am but the help cannot only come from me, think of me as a coach who hypes you up before the big game but it is inevitably you who will be doing all the running and scoring.”

“Great, Self-help, Jack I could have done this myself.” I exhale gently.

“Sort of self-help but you will have to help yourself to my advice. I don’t lie, Nat.”

I give in with my hands wiping my old life away within my nervous sweat.

“Now, do you see in Jacks-Snack-Bar to our left; there is a guy named Steven Jackson, he is the one wearing a leather jacket.” I glance through the window and see the most rough-looking, chiselled jawed guy I have ever seen, sat with five other loud-ass dudes. “Nat, look at me. What I need from you in our first task is I want to walk in there and tell that guy that he is the most luscious and sexiest guy you have ever laid eyes on and all you want to do is lick his bare chest. Then walk back out before he gets the chance to reply.”

Only thinking about doing this deed freezes my every limb and chases my heartbeat.

“I don’t think I can Jack. That’s way too much for me to handle first off.”

He puts his hands on my face and holds my head within his palms, looking at me right in the eyes, right into my soul.

“Natalie, you are a new you. You have a new look and a new lease of life. I would never have asked this of you if I myself did not think you were ready for it, I wouldn’t have asked it from you. You are, trust me.” I lighten up. “Now get that ass in there.”

Step towards complete demise from the social structure. I enter through the door with a ding and silently I strategize all that I must say while trying to keep it all together. The laugh from the gang in the corner bellows through-out the Snack-bar; all other sitters are unnerved and scared to ask for them to settle.

I walk over panicky but with a mission to keep me marching.

“Hi-Hiiii Steve.” The whole room stops and stares at me about to make a fool of myself. “I would… Like to say-y-y-y… You are the sexiest of all men and I would lick to like you… I mean like to lick you.” I quickly close my eyes, turn, open and march straight out of the door.

“I mess up, Jack.” I almost wail.

“No you didn’t. What you did was stand up to everything that was telling you not to and you took a step into the beyond of your normal state. First step complete, tick it from the list. C’mon let’s get to school.”

We cut through Jenkins Park, which is a wooded area but if cuts the time to walk to school by at least twenty minutes which in theory means an extra twenty minutes in bed. Jack is hopping over logs.

“What’s it like being an angel, Jack?” I probe into his life to get to know about this mystery that has chained himself to me.

“Boring at times, all you do is watch; we all really watch the intimacy side of life, that’s kind of our movies. That one spark between two people that flourishes into a forest fire, it’s an F’in treat which goes great with popcorn.” He reports without ever making eye-contact, still hopping over branches.

“The Devil was an angel, right? So is he still downstairs?” Jack cocks his head and burst out laughing.

“Okay, let me clear the whole Lucifer story up, for your ears only. Lucifer was the most beautiful of angels, females wanted to be with him and the males would have carved off their right-wing just to be him for a day. So one day he and our all mighty father had a major falling out, which got him kicked out our house. That’s the part of the book that all you guys have read, but like it is in heaven it shall be on Earth. My dad forgave and let him back in ages ago, he messed up, paid the price and now he is the golden boy again; a vain ass-bag but still a daddy’s boy at the end of the day. Why do you think whenever there’s a movie made about him, all of the people say there is a curse on the movie set. I would be pissed too to have people think for a millennium that I was actually evil. He’s back at home, think as hell as a rehab centre for angels. He’s bringing his autobiography out on scroll in a few months, I have pre-order my copy along with the audio version of his story in hell, narrated by Elvis. We’re not that different, baby.”

A ruckus of male laughter and shouts comes echoing from through the weaves of the trees and leafs. Me and Jack pass deer in the headlight stares at one another.

“Jack! What could that be?” I hush over to him.

“I don’t know…. Werewolves, maybe?” He chucks, undeterred by the hollers as he stares into my deep blues.

From the bushes behind us comes Steve Jackson, clicking his knuckles.

“There you are my sweet thing, I didn’t get the chance to reply to your compliment earlier, you ran away so fast, so me and my boys…” All Stevens’s boys come out from the shadows of the woods and stand behind Steve. “…Drove around looking for you, to thank you in our special way for making our day; I hope you like it.”

I start to back up with the trembles of fear shivering me. Their evil deeds show in their eyes as they step forward and try to flank me from the sides. Jack steps in front of me.

“Natalie, slowly start to back up, I will deal with this. Nobody and I mean nobody gets in the way of my work.” Jack bows his head with his eyes closed, focusing himself. Without any effort his flutters into the air; the forest turns dark. The shadows of gigantic wings attach and open from Jacks back. Within one flap of his almost invisible wings and ferocious winds tears through the forest, ripping up logs and sending the spiralling through the air, brush that laid still distorts the entire forest; along with the roar of wind help pick up the hooligans and somersaults them through the woodland until they are out of sight.

Everything soon settles and begins to rest on mayhem. Jack comes back to the throws of gravity. He turns with a smile.

“Shall we get to school, then?” He bubbles like nothing has happened.

I nod incessantly in shock as he brushes by me with a wink.

What have I gotten myself into? Who is this guy? Why me? I guess by the time this week is up I will find out, won’t I?

What Did I Just Write? What Was I Thinking?

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!

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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.

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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.

This Pen Is A Monster, It’s The Only One That Gets Me!

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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 airplanes. 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.

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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!

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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.

Want to Collab? Get in touch.