This month has been so great, thank you to every one who has came to my site and read my work. Your support upon my work gives me the drive to write more.
Just wanted to share our progress, we will make it eventually. If you guys keep reading I will keep writing. I promise you.
Keep your pens busy and be safe out there.
Alex Kennedy
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.
I’m going to jump; throw myself from this bridge into its ripple grim grave. I am done with it all, school life, family life; overall life in general. I haven’t got anyone to fall back on and that is the biggest of killers to me. This is no cry for help because there will be none, no opened hand because I have never been given one. I know if I do this now my stance as unknown will stay the same on this planet, nothingness nobody because no one is there.
Standing on the concrete guard of the bridge looking down, I came to Harper Leap, not only because of the name but also because no cars use this road, now that the new freeway around our town has diverted traffic. The rain hazes the atmosphere with a hush-hand to cover whatever noise I make when I finally figure out this is a bad idea. Only one street lamp above the bridge will be my spotlight to the fame of the obituary column.
“What are you doing?” A voice from the side of me sasses.
I jerk my neck in fright to the right.
“I’m going to jump. Don’t stop me!” I snarl at the young man’s direction as he holds up his hands in interference.
“Just trying to do my job before it is too late, that’s all.” He protests to the waters wall.
I take another glance at him; he is a young guy, around eighteen-nineteen, black t-shirt and jeans and black dock martin boots; really raggedy brown hair that curls over his face. He is rather beautiful, even with the huge tribal tattoo down his right arm.
“Who are you? …What do you want?” Instantly he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I am Jack.” He jumps up on the wall, walks over with his hand out to shake; I back away, he may want to drags me away from the edge.
“Jack? Jack who?” I insist.
He wipes the drizzle from his clothes, lifts up his head and with a smile.
“Jack. Your guardian angel, Jack.” He introduces himself with a subtle bow.
“Haha! My guardian angel? There is nothing you can say that will take me from this plummet.” I look again at my grave.
“Your name is Natalie Wallace; seventeen years, four months and six days old. Every time your mom or dad left you when you were a child you would cry, until you gained self-worth and stopped the tears. Your first crush was on a boy Adam Summers in the third grade but he was interested in your friend Grace Atkins, they are expecting their first child out of wed-lock, neither has finance to look after themselves let alone a newborn; your thoughts not mine. When you watched Jurassic Park you wanted to become a palaeontologist like Sam Neil but when you found out there was little or no money involved you backed away from the idea.”
“Wait… How do you….” He jumps my words. “There is plenty more I can tell you about yourself, I am practically your walking talking invisible diary that only you can see. Neat, huh? Where was I?”
“Enough…“ I finish in shock.
Jack takes one step on to thin air, a few steps out he turns and glides back to me, until we are face to face, land and air.
“Give me a week. One week to show you that suicide is not the answer, one week to show you the real reasons for living.” He picks up one of my tears on his finger that flee down my face; he flicks it from his finger into the sky to make a new star, our star. “There are things that you will want to live for, all you have to do is take my hand and agree to it all.”
I am reluctant, but his eyes melt every inch of sin.
“Am I going crazy?” I puzzle everything with my eyes and hands.
“You would ask that when something supernatural happens and now I am in the position to try to convince you of your own sanity and if I don’t have a good enough answer you will kill yourself and then I have to go back up top and tell them that you thought you were crazy because of everything you’ve seen. And I will be really pissed off because I tried…” He stresses his face in his palms. “How about you trust me even if that means trusting you instincts once? I know you don’t do it often but I know, you know, you should do it more. How about that for a speech? I am awesome and pretty to look at, what’s the worst thing that happens? You get eye strain from staring at me too long and you will become amazed by amazement, sweetie.” He cockily puts it with a smirk.
“Okay, one week. I agree to everything.” With the ending of my words the world pushes a furious wind all around. Jack stands with his arms out wide until he is only a silhouette within the huge moon.
I can only make out. “Your first task is to take a risk and have faith in something more than yourself. I want you to …..”
My hair gets swept into my eyes, leafs newspapers and birds spiral around this tornado speeded wind. “What!” I shoot out.
“Jump to me! I will catch you, Natalie.” He fires back.
“Are you out your friggin’ mind?” I fear over to him. He tipple tails backwards with laughter. “Do you really want to go back ten minutes in our conversation?” I grip on to the concrete guard with my fingers. “It looks like you’re going to need some incentive, ain’t-cha’! Just jump!” He point up into the sky, from the dark pit if the grey clouds a trailer is sent downwards.
“You better jump, missy!” He chuckles.
I lunge for him in fear but also in hope, as if I needed him. His arms open wide along with my mouth in a scream. It all turns black.
—
My eyes open gradually to this farfetched feeling of dreams and reality and how they betrayal me every single time I wake. I fling the blanket over my head.
“So you talk and snore whilst you sleep, that’s a weird trick to have.” A familiar voice peals through.
I chuck the blanket away from me. Jack is perched on his boots tiptoes on the end of my bed frame, arms folded.
“You’re real?” I chide him.
“Naturally I am, well, unnaturally. It’s a school day today isn’t it? I’m coming with.”
I am about to get out when something doesn’t feel right. I reach my hand under my covers and feel around.
“Why am I naked, Jack?” I grumble. “I couldn’t find any clean pyjamas, Natalie.” He grumbles back as he floats around my room, touching everything from photos to panties. So embarrassing. I quickly wrap and ball up my covers around me and rush into my bedroom bathroom, I shut and lock the door and turn to my bathtub. AAAHHHHHHH! “What are you doing here? Get out!” Jack is sitting on the sink with his nose in my diary. “Nothing I haven’t seen before and besides I am reading, go about your business, don’t mind me, pretend I am not even here.”
“Please get out, I would like to have a shower in peace, wait in my room.” Within an eye-blink he has disappeared from the bathroom. “I’ll just wait right out here!” Jack yelps from my room.
“Okay, don’t go anywhere, I won’t be long.” I tug on the shower cord and jump in and place a hand over my heart, it has never burst with so much excitement ever, for anything.
“I have got you some breakfast and something you can wear for school today.” He reports in his deep accent.
My I-pod-radio begins playing. Two princes – Spin doctors.
“I love this track; it’s been a long time.” What is he doing now? I leap back out the shower and envelop myself within two towels. I open the door and from out of nowhere I am dried and fully dressed in a red dress, a new luxurious hair style, make-up and shoes.
“What’s this?” I retort.
“I thought it would be nice for you to wear this today. Before you say anything, I know you don’t wear these types of clothes but you subconsciously and universally agreed, remember. We can always go back in time so you can relive that moment.”
My bed is full of food from the furthest reaches of the world. Snails, lobster, croissants, berries, squid, rare fruits and slabs of steak.
“Wasn’t really sure what you wanted to eat, so I just grabbed a shopping bag from everywhere and brought it back. If you don’t eat the gooey stuff I would recommend on throwing it away before it kicks up a pong.” He chuckles.
“I have a guardian angel. Why you?” Before I even finished my words he responds. “Punishment, I beat up an archangel cause he was talking smack about someone I care about, so I head-butted him and been doing this ever since as a quote-unquote Fallen Angel. It has its up and downs. You meet some really cool people.”
“Well how long have you been doing this?” I enquire as I sit on my beds edge and nibble on some cake.
“About ten thousand years ago, I was Michelangelo’s guardian angel, as soon as I was finished with him he painted the Popes ceiling. But you can’t save everyone; Kurt Cobain, so close, dude.”
“Why me?” I wonder. “Jack floats over on his belly and pokes me on the nose. “In time all will be revealed, I promise. Hurry up and eat, we’re going to be late for you brand new day at school.”
In the space of ten hours my life has gone from tediously painful at time to the exciting marvel from my mischievous guardian angel. Today at school is going to full of surprises. Here goes nothing.
The world hatched and gave birth to me, silver linings are traced over with bad-luck; I’m mad as fuck, not even military precision prayers could save this mutant of the pen. A pill in my mouth, a bee in my bonnet, high as the clouds, I’m running against comets and anger comments. This motherfucker is climbing out of the gutter, flushing away his past because it’s all shit. Too controlled for suicide; too educated for homicide; so I will imagine them both whilst scratching help signals above my skin. Handicapping and happy-slapping the retard living in my brain, fuck your feelings Alex, for your life, you’re the only one to blame.
Alex, you’re gonna’ die alone. Walking along your path and your only friend will be the freezing breeze to join your cold heart upon an icy chessboard. Cause a supernova of words; turn the cement to flames, skin to lighter fluid and jungles to fire-food. They swept you under the mat and expected you to rebel, I’m telling you; give them a wake-up call to the killing moon. Crimson critics live under your fingernails; green with envy because you are not writing for The Green…
The golden boy shimmers off his shine with a deadly chill. Sucker-punch this fucking world and while they are not looking boot them in the ball into the sun. Exact your revenge upon your Ex-girlfriend who got your hopes up with a fresh start of love, then gave you the middle-finger when she found a new cock to control. Chase after the man who took your smile as a child, run him down and slowly take away his cries. This is the war-cry of a manmade madman, I was not laboratory created and synthesized in a bottle, this is my chemical reaction to this blackened planet with my own two black eyes.
Open my eyes; strapped to the chair and made to watch while everyone took a piece of me and stamped on my innocence as if it were shit. Screaming at the mirror, pulling out my hair, totally lost… I couldn’t talk to the psychiatrist so he kicked me out his club house; the numbness is really taking over, where is he now? Did I fail him or did he fail me? Swallow another pill, self-destruction will cope against hope. I’m a piece of shit; I will never amount past the flies.
I pretend and camouflage well with the nice sane people, but today has taken its toll. Pushing all the right buttons, don’t you know you’re dealing with a potential Killer/Writer? Wipe away a tear and wash away all you are with whiskey, you’re a happy drunk, pilled-up to the eye balls, what are you crying for? You are a party animal.
I’m not trying to shock and awe, you probably haven’t read this far down, I had to get it off my chest. No clean versions to life, so bring your fucking swear words; I was watching my mouth, worry about what I write. Don’t worry baby, I still love sex, I really am a freak in and out of the bedroom. Talent? Stripping skin skillfully sinfully so sufficiently such souls scream soundly sweet as they sleep; sayonara sunrise, scaling scary sights as silly-fuckers still stand still. What more do you fucking want? What more do you fucking need? Have I not bled enough with my pen? I can write, final…
I need out of this dirt-ridden poverty, I barely get by with this bare-trap ankle bracelet chained to my home of the brave. What do you know about the street? …Except staring at us all from your penthouse suites. I turbo my bad-attitude on my blog, enjoy!!
Mommas’ at the gate shouting come on home,
I’ve got so much hate; I’ll be back sometime tomorrow.
Mission impossible break-out from hospital,
This kid has lost his soul, frostbitten to the core,
Make the most of my living,
When everyone doesn’t want me to win,
So I’m going in for the kill,
Showing a sea of people my fin,
The mister of enigma,
Most sinister move finisher,
Finish him!
This is game-over,
Immoral combat,
Better get another brain-donor,
I can’t borrow because I lost that.
It’s hard out here for a madman,
Apparently I’m equal to a trashcan,
But I’m embarrassingly evil to say the least,
I’m a badman.
But with this pen of mine,
I line all my enemies in a line,
And swipe and rhyme,
This is a fight for life,
Because I have bide my time,
And now you will have to deal with this,
Writing is my meal ticket,
I’m hungry!
So I will wait my turn,
Then turn wicked.
This is a close encounter of the insane mind,
Frozen at the top of this mountain,
Beyond space and time,
I take the time,
To look at my life and you know what?
I fucking hate mine.
This is coming off my chest,
I’m flying off these walls,
All these emotions inside can’t be stalled,
It’s time to let loose, it’s time to break free,
Alex has blew a fuse, here comes another side to me…
First-off I would like to thank you for stopping by…
I write because words are all I have; I’ll out-rightly out write you because you write what is rightly right!
My name is Alexander Kennedy, I am 33 years old and live here in Kingston Upon Hull – England With my Wife (Cacilia) And my Children (Alexander and Felicity) As a young “Mental Challenged” teen I quickly developed a love for rhyming words (Aspirations of becoming a white rapper/ poet.) But I didn’t know it was the love for the shock of words I loved.
But after a few years on the poet scene I found out the words I used were no longer filling that void within me. I needed a challenge while I was attending a mental health hospital for delusions, unable to tell the difference between reality and dreams, walking around and having terrors form right before his eyes, all the while trying to keep my “Normal life” held together. I found a way out in Short stories and Screenplays. I generated myself as a novice pen-man. But as I marched my way through the writing scene, the words I was using did not have the same effect on me, so thus a novel was needed for his void. Taking all of the distorted images of people and events within my life, I create some of the weirdest and dark toned stories.
To keep my void filled I must still tackle all of my writing on a weekly or daily basis to ensure my pen doesn’t get lazy.
“I have been to hell when I was boy, when I arose from the fires I became a man; now, living out my life as an act to fit in to a place I can never truly be part of, so I write worlds I remember to entertain you from the darkness that raised me.” – “Psycho-Speak” Alex Kennedy.
If you would like to send us a private message, YOU CAN! We will receive your message and relay it back to Alex. The link is below. (NOTE: If you could leave us a short comment upon this page stating you have sent us a message, it would be appreciated, as we are not always on the email. Thank you.)
If you would like to talk to me about my writings or possible representation or guest-blog please use the e-mail below.
psychowriteralex@gmail.com
“I am a real life Mental Patient. Now I shall show you a world within the one you live in.” – Alex Kennedy
(YOU STEAL OUR MATERIAL, MY LAWYER WILL HUNT YOU DOWN! …May I just point out some of my earlier stories, from years prior, are from when I was mentally ill and on meds, so there maybe some spelling mistakes and weird twists. No I will not change them! They remind me of a time when I was less than myself now. But as I have grown, so has my work and spell-checking. Thank you.)
HAVE YOUR SAY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Thanks for reading.
Pages of madness I write and sleep with upon my bedroom walls.
