An Evil Writer Kills With A Pen – Part 2

I am setting these pages alight, sending all my pieces of work into ashy memory, my own personal fire-shrine. I am the truest word of a writer so no further need for my tongue, cut it and kill it. I will take you on a voyage beyond the word hell – My diary. I am damaged; light-years from repair and still my severed limbs are crawling and scraping towards this dream. Sitting envious of the moguls flashing their achievements under my nose; how can I conquer my life if I cannot triumph over my own minds functions? I will one day.

They can make it shower hope for the hopeless and money for the poor, all I can ball-up is my ability to draw forth red clouds and make it rain blood upon us all, my bad. My demons swim within my eyeballs; once they surface they surf upon every teardrop. Writing is my way out of all of this; this pen is a leech upon my hand, sucking all my secrets out.

“He’s a mental patient, why hasn’t he begun killing yet?” I’m not sure, maybe I was hatched wrong.

I truly hope this isn’t the last time I lie down, evanescently in my nightmares. I am shredding up these pages with my ballpoint pen whilst having a word tantrum, I cannot stop – I have gone loco.

“If he is not evil, why does sin rhyme with him?” There are so many questions to answer.

I can’t stop these words escaping from the vortex of this pen!

This is coming off my chest,

Because I’m flying off the walls,

All these emotions inside can’t be stalled,

It’s time to let loose, it’s time to break free,

Alex has blown a fuse,

Here comes another side of me!

Dark clouds form promptly above my head, pissing on this world for my misfortunes. It is rather satirical to watch. Lightning strikes drag their fingers of obscurity across the ground with energized iron, rubbing out all that is wrong with land. The ground up-heaves and overlaps upon itself within a ripple effect to become almost a water imitation. The whole world stops watching and hears my pain, the Earth comes to life. The echoing screams from the people whom have sought shelter from this pen drip to a dull murmur as the ground opens a chipped-corner to Hell. Open your mouth! I do not blink as if I were to do so, a tear would fall; I do not breathe from my mouth as if I were to do so, a whimper would wince; I do not care as if I were to do so I would forget this world forgot about me when they said they cared. Let this whole world shudder with my cold shoulder.

I drag my index finger under my right-eye where a tear has clung onto; I look at it sitting on my finger. This is the last of me! I flick the water in your direction. This is what you are after, it’s yours now.

You’re not the antagonist of this story, I am. I could let anyone of you destroy this world but this conflict you waltzed into the middle of has been in the making since my first cut.

You have no idea what this world can do to one man,

If you stay here long enough, you will understand my words.

Help me!

 … … …

I have been dreaming of something better since I picked up this pen.

On this world you need your eyes to be closed to dream. Alex, give me the go-ahead and I shall make it a permanent fixture upon your face.

Mental Health

To whoever stole my antidepressants, I hope you’re happy with yourself. It’s so weird when you have mental illness and take medication for it, all your friends disappear and don’t want to talk anymore. Now people know that that I have a screw loose, they tell me they believe in me all the time, so I am guessing they didn’t before. I now live with my mental illness; my wife is super jealous towards it because it’s always on my mind.

They say my condition runs in the family and I am on a cycle of new drugs, way too much exercise for me and I never run from my problems. #LazyCrazyWriter

I write until the wheels fall off, must be why I am always tired. Scribbling this down on paper, on the edge of my bed, I hope I drop off soon. I tell people I am tired and their response is to go to sleep, they don’t understand me when I say tired. If you don’t feel like screaming all the time, we can’t be friends.

In this post I take a few funny jabs at my mental illness, this purely my attitude towards it all. Some days I can laugh and shine a light on the problems and other days I stay under the covers and keep myself in that dark place.

My world is not your world; my problems are not your problems. But if I can just be here and tell you, you are not alone in this, then I am taking a step to help beat this. I am not going to imagine what you’ve been through or going through. I just want you to know, help is out there for people like us. There are online chats and telephone helplines if you ever need to talk. If you need them, use them, that’s why they are there.

Hey, here’s my E-mail if you ever need to vent. psychowriteralex@gmail.com

I will be back soon with a new story.

Be good and be safe.

Alex