Author: ggkalfas

The sovereign playlist of life and death. The real male enhancement pill. The only falsity you will truthfully know. Honesty is not necessarily the best policy. I have no reason to be untruthful, or to exaggerate any of the circumstances I have previously experienced within this life. The only person I have ever lied to was myself. I still do it occasionally. Actually, I still lie to myself on a daily basis. It serves me no purpose. I know my truth, just as I now my falsities. This is why I occasionally lie to myself. I do not want to accept my truth, as I know what it will lead to. I have worked harder than hard can work, and deeper than its unknown depths. I have sacrificed my mind, body and soul, for the reward of getting by through survival. Nothing has ever worked out for me, just as nothing has ever paid off. I believe in getting back what you put in; unfortunately, in return, it does not believe in me. I am a middle-aged man, trying to make something of myself, and of my life. I will keep moving forward until the day I die. This is another underlying part of my personality: never giving in, or giving up.  Death will eventually come for me one day, long before success ever will. I know this truth. As I have always known this. I do not kid myself anymore. I used to. But not anymore. I measure success by what is contained within, not by what can be grasped from without. It is not depressing, if you are honest with yourself. No depression will ever be depressing, as long as you are completely honest with yourself. If you have figured out this truth about yourself, you will see how you are half way in finding success within yourself. I stopped deceiving myself a long time ago. The truth within yourself becomes easier to acknowledge, when you live your life being honest with yourself. The lies. This is the most detrimental kind of hurt the internal frequencies within you can experience. I know my potential. I reached it in my mid-thirties. I am in reinvention mode. I am creating another me. A new me. The real me. The gritty, grimy, hands-on me. The Earth part of me. I did not like who I used to be. What I had to become in order to live life. What I evolved into in order to survive. My words. My thoughts. My deeds. They never sat right with me during those untruthful times. Now I know all of my truths, as I consistently live through them on a daily basis. I am the truth. I am my own truth. I am my own secret resurrection. The embodiment of my truth manifest. Self-reliance is the absolute truth; existing within one’s quality of character. By accepting charity and relying on the actions of others for help, this action defeats your life’s purpose. By living through this type of action, the sovereignty which resides within you, will undoubtedly be put to death. Unfortunately, this is how many within the world live their lives; allowing their government to have dominion over their sovereignty. If they cannot feel their precious and sacred human rights being stripped away, they never deserved to have them to begin with. In this life, what you do not appreciate, will eventually release itself from your body energy field. The vast majority of people within this realm, for some reasoning or another, desire nothing more than to be taken care of by their own maniacal fascist government. The true individual knows, no one else will ever have their best interest in mind; moreover, the true individual would never allow anyone else, especially a fascist dictatorship, to have dominion over their sovereignty. One’s internal truth, solely lies directly within their actions, as one’s internal truth does not solely lie within thoughts or words alone. When you accept an interfering domination over your life, you are in fact accepting defeat within your internal character. This type of living is that of the weak minded and the weak willed sheeple; living the rest of their lives as a slave, within a slave mentality.

A soft tainted beauty. Within a kind and loving neglect. Your dark distant loving shadow. You keep trying to resurrect. The floating flowing hands, are gently cradled within its own sultry dissipation. Seeking some type of distant fulfillment, within every empty inclination to suffocate yourself from life. The unwilling giving. They are hopelessly dragging and slagging their scarred knees. Torturing themselves effortlessly, and on a daily basis. As they are always willing to please. The sycophant’s disease. The seen and unseen. Your empty untasted life. Falling in between. Time will always be here waiting for you. Your unfortunately distressed reason and rhyme. Releasing the undesirable temptation away. Empty and fulfilled throughout time. Some may find it difficult; taming or entertain their daemon. Never taking the time to understand its meaning or reasoning. The beautiful dark tranquility, which lies solemnly within. Will set forth onto the world, within your shortened lifetime to begin. The distant memories of the far sighted are near. Both are vividly seen. Intuitive and internally clear. These shy forgotten moments; hiding within the internal. The lifespan of the never-ending abrasive eternal. Always setting forth from the wreckage of the past. Opening the blistering strength within the infernal journal. Furiously ablaze within the aching arches. The shining and bright red light. Never mentioning; keeping your strengths a secret within itself. The soft delicate words of a fleeting internal fright. Clasping and grasping. Masking and basking. Always feeling around in the dark for itself. The throbbing, pulsating urge; pounding itself from within. Yearning and burning. Stabbing and grabbing. Kissing and fucking. Committing another untainted skin atrocity. Depravity has always known of me. I am the father of its birth. I will never be the bringer of its death. From without, to all the way within my hollowed-out shell. The symptoms within a mechanical dialect. The seeds I have sewn tightly into the depths of its carnality. The smell of necrotic tissue. The taste of fleshy enthusiasm. The consummation is rotting me away. The masses of human waste. Another tedious display of attention and affection seeking. Killing themselves for fifteen minutes of shame.

I have always found it difficult to understanding those claiming to be spiritual, or of a higher consciousness; when they are always complaining about how difficult their lives are. These “higher consciousness people” are always broke and depressed; complaining incessantly about how bad their lives are, as life is always a constant struggle for them. They will usually have the facial features of one who has lived a rough life, as though their face is the trophy of their struggle. They wear the skin on their face with pride, knowing they are better than their peers, and the others around them, only because their struggle through life was harder, more enriching than anyone else’s will ever be. This is identical to the mentality many drug addicts have; the more they struggle, the harder life is for them, they can claim a higher social status. It is as though they should be recognized by their peers and others for enduring their struggles and pains within life, as opposed to their actual accomplishments within it. In actuality, anyone and everyone has the power and ability to struggle; as this is extraordinarily easy to acquire. What is not easy to acquire, is the follow through and accomplishments of desired goals. This accomplishment of desired goals, is what should be recognized, as opposed to the generic commoner on the street corner being recognized for their failures in life. There is absolutely nothing glorious about failing or struggling through life; moreover, the sad fact that the weak-minded commoners desire accolades for their failures, is direct proof of their weak-mindedness. Do the crystal necklaces these enlightened ones wear around their necks, not give them the power they need in order to be healthy and successful? There is nothing external within this world, which will provide you with power or dominion over it. Most of these people are desperately seeking for some type of external salvation through: magical divination, crystals, magical stones, astrology, tarot, alternative religions, numerology, and possibly becoming a member of a secret order. There is nothing which exists externally, which will allow you to understand yourself, until you acknowledge who and what you truly are from within yourself. The above mentioned, are all forms of divination, which were designed to be used as tools; they are explicitly not to be used as forms of salvation in any manner whatsoever. The only salvation which will ever exist for you, exists solely within yourself. You must find the strength and courage within you to look into your inner mirror, and make peace within your heart. The anger and contempt you hold so dearly close to you, will in fact be your ruin. If you consider yourself to be “enlightened” or to be “awakened”, and you are still actively involved with negative thought patterns, and low vibrational frequencies of lack and fear; you should reevaluate your internal levels of enlightenment, and awakened-ness, as it is a possibility you are delusional within your consciousness. Just because you have acquired a basic understanding of many different forms of divination, does not mean you have obtained any type of enlightenment, or any type of spiritual awakening on any level whatsoever. If you claim to be spiritually awakened, and you keep a crystal on your persons to hold onto for guidance; all the while, participating in carnal activities of a lower and base vibrational frequency, you are in fact only fooling yourself. An action will always drown out the power of a belief, as this is especially true if the believer is irresponsible with their beliefs. There are a few people who are actually trying to make a difference within themselves, through attaining a specific type of enlightenment. These types of people are usually trying to find the answers, as to why they feel so lost within their lives. Little do they know, having their astrology chart mapped, or going to their local metaphysical shop to purchase their new bright and shiny crystal, will not bring about the answers they are seeking. These unfortunate people happen to be lost within themselves, and within their personal external worlds. They have become disconnected through nonacceptance of their internal natures. It is very easy to become distracted within the sub-frequencies of society, you may completely become thrown off course within your life’s path. You must regain control of your thoughts, and your entire body energy field. There is no form of divination, which will show you the way, unless you know for certain which direction you desire to tread. Your chosen path, is the path you desire to tread. There is nothing preordained within this world, unless this is what you believe; moreover, the circumstances which you will find within your life, will be fashioned within this belief. You ultimately obtain the decision of what you will do with your life, how you live it, and if you will enjoy living it. If this is too much responsibility for you, and you need someone or something to tell you what to do- I would suggest finding yourself before it is too late for you to do anything worthy for yourself, or with the time you have left here within this lifetime. If responsibility is too much responsibility for you to handle; do not bite off more for yourself than what you can chew. Focus on a little bit at a time, so you will not become overwhelmed in the beginning. It is important to go inside of yourself, and to listen to your heart. If you truly take the time to listen to your heart, you will hear there is no fear coming from it. The fear you are actually hearing is coming from your thoughts, and the thoughts of those around you who have never, and will never believe in you.

I see it all over and throughout society; people losing touch with who they are within themselves. It is a slow, steady decline into the ignorance of one’s own self, and of one’s own nature. Within every single one of us, there lives and breathes a delicate sunrise to brighten our lives, and a ferocious beast; seething to rip apart anything which may come before it. The beast will usually cast an eclipse; reining over the Sun’s nurturing rays. This beast is part of our human heritage; the commonality which unites us as a species, the greatest of all the strong subhuman breeds. A certain spiritual ascension will not maintain, as long as the beast deeply breathes within us. Are you able to tame the beast, which is your human nature? If so; would it still be considered a beast, and would it still be considered human nature? Unbeknownst to you, external forces and wavelengths, have already decided to tame your inner beast. Humanity is slowly and steadily descending; willingly becoming an ignorant lot of tamed organisms of sheeple. This ferocious beast has been castrated, and is now displayed; parading around solemnly, as to be very careful to not hurt anyone’s fucking feelings. There is no need for the beast to dwell within humanity, as there is no more need for humanity. The majority of women have bigger cocks than most men have. Strapless flaccid egos; waiting to be ignited by defilement. This is the same moronic mentality, which these so-called, Satanists possess. They are not real Satanists! These infiltrators, are your basic, run of the mill paid social activists; exploiting the moniker of Satanist, as an unscrupulous, attention seeking tool. Misuse of this propagandized title, seems to be in vogue with these young, charlatanical activists, who blatantly manipulate, drool, and salivate for the mainstream media, and for the notoriety of gaining more followers and likes on their social media platform. These parading propagandized charlatans are absolutely useless, fucking lame! They are pretentiously lame emo activists, haphazardly parading around as nouveau-Satanists. If these bought and paid for activists, actually spent an evening with a true, hardcore Satanist; I guarantee you, they would find Jesus on the following business day. There are many different forms of Satanism, which are all focused on the individual. I do not see how “Satanic Activism” is a real part of Satanism. Protesting, demonstrating, and standing up for another’s rights, directly falls into the realm of Christian ideology, not the Satanic ideology of the individual. True Satanism, is not designed nor catered to by the mainstream; nor is it designed to be exploited by sheeple, who do not understand true, fundamental and foundational roots from where Satanism is birthed from. Satanism is older than antiquity itself; it was the thought, which thought the Universe into existence.

Slice it down the middle. Open it wide. Allow it to slide. Reach into it. Catastrophe within, contained within the blasphemy. Below your low hanging, swinging, wrinkled, and stretched-out jowls. Questing without reasoning. Searching without perching. Learning the bounds of your body’s putrid justification. Purging your sepsis for all to see. Your own personal resurrection. Time lies within the hands of the shattered remembrance. Forgetting all it has ever watched over. Anathema for all you have ever lived. Sacrifice nothing you are about to relive again. Symbiotic cesspool of experiences within your withdrawal. Brain dead. Necrotic bed. Your soul dies within its crawl. There is nothing beautiful about your bleeding lips. Questing and infesting your shattered depths. Bleed into me all of your sickly desired reasoning. Slowly pulling me out of my diseased intake. I watch as this disdain, slowly drips itself away from your lizard-esque tongue. Wanting to taste your memories as you speak them away. Thin lips know nothing of thick desires. Only the flesh can be remembered within these drippings. Delicately bland, is what I have become to know you as. Claiming to be the goddess of light. There is no light I can use to see you with. I am blinded to your existence. You should persist from within, until you become deceased. I will maintain my own resilience. I have met you before in the past, only you had a different name back then. There are many of you who are the same, but always go by different names. I can still smell the rotting depths within your stench. Your type of necrosis makes my cock so hard. The smell of your depths is quite intoxicating. Killing the lovers, you may have thought you conquered within your lost past. Cautiously masking your poisonous ambrosia with another putrid aroma. I like watching you; exerting yourself through the effort you think you are putting into living your life. No one knows better than another. These are complicated times. Complicated and time consuming, is your ethic of personal aesthetics. I love watching you; watching how you casually create your personal blend of a petrified suicide. A fatality within the genome. Roots that were never sewn. A home that was never planted. A chance was never given for it to be grown. The mind living behind its own bars.

Jules called me again last night at 3 am. This is the usual time of night, when she calls me upset. She is either upset about waking up from a bad dream, or upset about making “a sex mistake” as she puts it, with some random guy she picked-up at the bar that night. When I wake-up from the sound of my phone ringing at 3 in the morning, I always play a little game with myself. I try to guess the reason for Jules’s call. I have known Jules since grade school. She and I used to live next door to one another. It’s funny, our parents still live there to this very day. I have been in love with Jules since I can remember meeting her on the first day of 3^rd grade. There was something magical about Jules. It was a magic I could not quite understand at such a young age. There was magic in the way her freckles were meticulously placed on her cheeks. There was magic in the way the wind would blow through her strawberry blond hair, when she would swing back and forth on the swing set. There was magic in the way she would smile at me; numbing every single part of my body. Jules’s magic was a beautiful magic. It was not until I became older, when I came to understand the magic I felt for Jules, was actually the love I felt for Jules. Unfortunately, Jules did not feel the same love towards me. She thought I was the best friend in the whole wide world, when all I could think about was kissing her alabaster body from head to toe. Every night before I would fall asleep, all of my thoughts were about Jules. I use to imagine how her lips tasted, how her hair would feel in my hands, and how her naked body would feel embraced with mine. Nothing romantically ever developed between Jules and myself. No matter how hard I tried, she was only interested in friendship. After high school, Jules left Houston; attending college at Ohio State. Jules’s flunked out of school in sophomore year. Apparently, she developed a very bad drug and alcohol addiction during her stay at Ohio State. When Jules came back home, her parents checked her into a mental health facility, where she lived for the next six months. After her release, I used to see her sitting on the front steps of her parent’s house. Jules would sit with her arms around her legs, with her head resting on her knees. She would just sit there; rocking herself back and forth for hours. It was heartbreaking seeing her this way. Jules never opened up to me about her addiction problems, nor have I ever asked her about it. Sadly, I have never seen Jules wear a short sleeve shirt, even in the summer time. I always thought if she saw me differently, more than just her friend, maybe she would not have gone off to school. Maybe she would have stayed here, never developing a drug and alcohol problem, because I would be there for her; loving her. I know now, none of that would have made a difference. Jules had problems; deep emotional and psychological problems, which could only have been treated with the help of a professional. I know that now. I always thought I could have helped her, but now I know the truth. Jules and I are still friends to this day. From knowing Jules since we were young, I can see how being in a relationship with her would have never worked out. I would have never been able to love her romantically, but only as a friend. I guess this too would also be a part of her magic. At a young age, she knew we were only meant to be friends; nothing more. Nowadays, Jules only seems to contact me when she is experiencing one of her emotional distresses. When I heard my phone ring, I knew it was Jules without even having to look at it. I laid there in bed; thinking, Jules, when are you ever going to learn? Reaching for my phone; I leaned back into my soft pillow as I answered, “Hi Jules. Everything alright?” I could only hear her heavy panting, as though she was having a panic attack. I asked, “Where are you? Are you home?” A soft reply came through, “I am.” I asked, “Are you alone?” Another soft reply, “I am.” This is when Jules opened up, “I’m glad you answer the phone when I call. I know it’s not okay for me to call you this late, or this early. I just wanted to hear your voice. Your voice has a soothing effect on me. It calms me to hear your voice. Ever since we were young. When we were young. Why didn’t we ever date? How come you never asked me out, or tried to kiss me?” I replied, “Did you forget? I asked you out, several times over several years. You would always tell me you only had feelings for me as a friend. You did not want to go out on a date with me, because friends did not date one another. I asked you out several times over the years, and you always blew me off. You have always known how I have felt about you, so don’t even try to act as though you never knew.” There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Jules finally replied, “Oh, I just didn’t know any better back then, maybe now, maybe I still don’t know any better. I did something tonight, something I shouldn’t of.” I hesitantly asked, “So, what did you do tonight Jules, that you shouldn’t have done?” Jules was silent on the phone for a good two minutes. I could hear her breathing; lighting up a cigarette, then exhaling. After her third exhale; she says to me, “Well, I met this guy online. He and I have been talking online and on the phone for about three months now. We finally decided to meet up tonight for dinner. I was not sure if it was the right thing to do, but three months is a long time to talk on the phone with someone, without ever meeting them. Of course, we sent each other pictures, but I guess the pictures, and the phone conversations just weren’t enough. I met up with Steve, that’s his name, at Big Ralph’s Bar, down the street from my apartment. I thought if things went well, or if we both had too much to drink, it would’ve been easy to just come back to my place. Well, things did go well, and we both had way, way too much to drink. When we came back to my place, Steve asked me if I fixed. His question threw me off, and right then I knew he wanted to shoot up. I could feel my mouth salivating and my skin beginning to itch, after he asked me that question, which threw me off because I thought I conquered that habit a long time ago. I knew as I looked him dead in his eyes, as he stood there right in front of me, I knew I hadn’t conquered a goddamn thing. Steve and I found our way into my bedroom, and onto my bed. We started kissing and one thing led to another. Before we really got into it, he wanted us to fix before we fucked. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I fixed anyway. He gave me more than what I wanted to start off with. All I can remember is him removing the needle from my arm, before I went dark. When I awoke, all of my clothes were on the floor, I had blood on my chest, and I could feel a wet, sticky, slimy feeling between my legs. When I reached down to feel it, I knew then it was his cum. He fucked me after I fixed, and then left me naked and bloodied. I’m not sure if this is my blood or his. I’m not cut anywhere. So, where would it come from? It must be his. I’m sitting here naked on the floor, leaning against the bed.” I would get these types of calls from Jules almost every weekend. This is when she would meet up with the men she was talking to online. I asked her, “Do you think maybe it is a good idea for you to not meet up with strangers you meet online, and then take them back to your place?” Jules angrily replied, “Well, how the hell else am I supposed to meet a man? At one of those fucking Narcotics Anonymous meetings? They are all drug addicts and pedophiles! I mean, I know that I got problems with certain addictions, but I’m not fucked up like those other people in there are. Holy fuck! That motherfucker! That motherfucking motherfucker! Hold on!” Jules apparently dropped the phone down on the floor next to her bed. I could hear her cussing fading in and out, as though she kept walking in and out of her bedroom. After about five minutes, Jules picked the phone back up. She proceeded to tell me, “That goddamn motherfucker! That piece of shit motherfucker! I’m going to kill that piece of shit! The blood on my chest was my blood! When I was talking to you, I could feel my ass getting wet. I looked down, thinking I might have spilled my beer. It was not beer I was sitting in; it was blood! My asshole was bleeding, and I didn’t even know it! That goddamn piece of shit motherfucker fucked my ass, then rubbed his cock all over my chest! What a piece of shit motherfucker!” I laid there in bed; thinking about when Jules and I were in high school. I thought about all the times I asked her out on dates, only to walk away from the sound of her laughter. It is confusing how someone would choose a tortured way of life, as opposed to a grounded, loving way of life. I can hear her whimpering over the phone, as she is trying to keep the tears within her. Jules rarely cries; holding on tightly to her sadness. She tries to act strong, as Jules is the strongest weak person I have ever known. I somberly replied, “Why don’t you change your sheets, take a shower, and then you and I can go get breakfast.” There was another long pause on her end, as though she had to think about it, weighing out her options. After a long deliberation; Jules replied, “No, I need to stay here and clean. And just so that you know, I can take care of my own damn self! I don’t need you, or anyone else trying to help me! Why do you always try to take care of me? You’re not my father, and you damn sure aren’t my man! You couldn’t handle me even if you were! You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like me! All you men are the same! All you men want is my pussy and my ass, that’s all you men think I have to offer! There is a lot more to me than just my pussy and my ass! I know who I am, and I definitely do not need your help or anyone else’s help! Do you understand me? What would you do if I did allow you to help me? Put me in another psyche ward like my parents did? Do you know how many times I was raped in there by the doctors, the orderlies, and the other patients? It was every fucking day! I had to have two abortions while I was in there. My parents didn’t believe me when I told them! They kept insisting I was lying! They would yell at me, telling me to stop lying! How the fuck can anyone ever help me? I have learned that everyone is on their own in life! There is no one who is going to make everything better for you, and there is definitely no one who is going to take away all of your problems! There is no one who will tuck you into bed, and watch over you, protecting you as you sleep! When you can sleep, you have to do it with one eye open. At those shitty Narcotics Anonymous meetings that I go to, they always talk about a higher power, God, Jesus, and all that lame fucking bullshit! Let me tell you, there is no fucking power higher than truth! The truth in life, is that we are all fucked! Life is not designed for people like me, for people who just want to be free and explore. Life is designed to tie you down to a job, mortgage, kids, and paying fucking bills for the rest of your life. What kind of fucking life is that? And I’m the one who everyone thinks is fucked up? I don’t know if you know this or not, but the summer between junior high and high school, this is the summer when my father started visiting me in the middle of the night. I would wake up to his cold hand, caressing my lower back and my ass. He said this was what a real father and daughter relationship was supposed to be like. He also told me that if I told my mother, she would kick me out of the house for lying. My whole life I have been telling the truth, but nobody ever believed me. This was the real reason why I never went on a date with you. Of course, I loved you and wanted to be with you, I just didn’t want you to find out about my father. I have always regretted not being with you, I just never felt good enough to be with you.” I laid there in bed, thinking about the past; remembering all of those times I walked up on Jules as she was mumbling to herself. I always wondered what that was about; now I know. I asked her, “Is this why you always call me when you need help?” She replied, “I call you when I need to hear your voice, and those are usually the times when I am hurting, when I am in trouble. Yeah, when I need your help.” This is what I hear from her, every time she calls me. I have been in love with Jules, since the first time I laid eyes on her; I still am. I do not think there is anything, or anyone, which could ever change that. I know it is not psychologically healthy for me to talk to her; knowing she and I will never be together, but I cannot help it. My heart hurts and misses Jules, when I do not hear from her; consequently, my heart also hurts when I do hear from Jules. I know she and I will never be together, as I want nothing to do with her romantically. There is a sick and self-defeating compulsion, which resides deep within me. This sick compulsion will not allow Jules to leave my life: never.