Author: ggkalfas

Causative reactions fluctuate hyperbolically within a systemic and diluted thought process. Another place you can call home. No amount of tears will extinguish the flame which burns me alive. I am the synthesis of the underground. The quality of deathly frustrations. Life is a creation within the flesh. Its own mistake. Shattering all disbelief and hyperbolizes. The new reaction occurs. Blurring the illusion right before you. A sunrise in the west. Living life backwards. Your only way of life. Self-de(con)struction rid you of me. Self-sabotage created your bondage. Another way of the snake. The fake. The diluted thought process. A recess of the soul. Words without control. A distant metaphor sneaking up on you. Killers. Without you I am back to when the world existed without you. Now I know this is the only place I will be able to live my life. Numb. Fulfilled. Impeccable.

I can remember a time when you and I were close; almost too close some would say. You always thought the others were jealous of the bond, the connection you and I shared. I knew better, I knew the whole truth; the truth the others knew nothing about. When you and I were young, our hearts were pure; the type of pureness which can only be found in youth. The world was one big exploration for you and I; a journey with no beginning and no end. You and I would always run through that field with the newly fallen leaves. That field was special to you, it reminded you of home; the home you knew before you started experiencing the torment, anger, and rage from your step-father. You would learn all too soon what was behind all of the afflictions he nourished you with. I could never understand why your mother would always turn away, or never believing anything you would try to talk to her about. Maybe internally, she knew the truth; never allowing herself to look you in the eyes again, to see that truth alive, in person. As your step-father was paying for you and your mother’s lifestyle, maybe she thought you were part of a sickening, carnal type of payback, you and her would just have to endure. I never thought anyone could endure what you have endured within your young lifetime; yet you still have the love and joy within your pure heart, which has not been stripped away from you at such a young age. Maybe you have known this the whole time, maybe you never noticed, or just maybe you feel the same as I do; the truth about me is that I am in love with you. From the moment you and I met, it has always been this way for me. There has never been a day which has passed, that I did not close my eyes and think about you. I can still remember how your hair smelled on that fall afternoon. There has never been a day which has passed, that I do not think about our kiss, our first kiss, under the warmth of the wilting maple tree. I can still remember how the sunshine tasted on your lips. I can still remember breathing in the air you were breathing out. I can still taste your lips on mine, the sunshine was blinding. I can still smell that fall field in your hair, and how your warm, delicate, fragile body felt in my arms. I think about you every moment I am alive. It is hard to believe; you and I will no longer be able to walk that field together. I will walk that field alone, thinking of you, your smell, your kisses, and the love and passion you allowed me to see within you, before you went away. It was the only way you were going to be free from the torment and abuse, which you faced on a daily basis. When I took your life away from you, I need you to know, as I told you while I was doing it; I did it solely and purely out of love. You are, and were, the most precious gift I have ever known, within this lifetime. I will leave you this letter upon the roots of the large, wilting maple tree, where you and I used to lean back upon, as I would hold you in my arms. This letter will be in good company, along with the other letters I have left for you on the same day, every year since I buried you. I purposefully buried you underneath our wilting maple tree, so when I am laying underneath its long branches, I am still laying and holding you my love. Sweet dreams my love; know that our love is eternal.

†

There is a spot within my heart, which will always remain hollow and empty. The unknowing spot. The hollow sinking spot; the spot which gave birth to the knots and pains throughout my life. The spot which gave birth to the inner conversations of self-hatred, and spawned the actions of self-seeking. It seems I may have been born with it, or perhaps it was hollowed out early on in my life. I have sought throughout my entire lifetime, to fill this spot with love; though I have never been able to find or create any such fulfillment. There is a cycle which lives within me; a seemingly never-ending cycle, which has created a whirlpool of devastation within, and throughout my lifetime. I open myself wide, hoping another heart will embrace mine. I always seem to find there is no embrace; only a sigh, only a back turned towards me, only a word, which tells me the true heart and feelings of the other: no. This is how I have come to develop, and turn into the irony within my life: lusted after my many, loved by none. I cannot open myself up anymore, yet this is all my heart wants to do. My heart needs to be seen within the sunlight of the gods. My heart yearns to be heard within the ears of the angels, as they sing the sun to sleep, and awaken the moon with their delicate aria’s. There are many exposures, which will allow you to sing within your lifetime. There are none so sweet and enchanting as the exposure of your pure and gifted heart, allowing itself sing, and to be known. Sometimes, the search, the journey of finding a heart like your own, will sometimes seem hopeless; it just might be. The only purpose in life is to give and receive love. When you live throughout your lifetime seeking this purpose and not finding it; this just might leave you feeling empty and frail within the depths of your soul. There are no limits to the emptiness, and the unfulfilling exposures, your soul and heart will feel within these duration’s within your lifetime. Your frail and empty life, may seem pointless and meaningless within these overexposed times, during the soul’s transition process.

Part 1: There are many different breeds, but none such as the one I have found for you. I know you think there may not be a difference between any of them. I assure you, there is a huge difference between all of them. The combination of all the differences is quite astounding, yet they are easy to see with the trained and naked eye. But you are well trained, aren’t you? He trained you real good for me, down to the last drop. Your eyes are the only parts of your body that are not naked. It was part of your training; the loss of dignity, and self-respect. I have always though highly of you, even though you think I do not. There really is no difference between you and I. We both harbor the same hatred, disgust, suicidal thoughts, and even the same thought process. The only real difference between you and I, is that I can hide my damage better than you.

Part 2: I have been thinking about it, about her, all night. I cannot get her out of my mind. She told me we knew one another in a past life. It was another one of life’s mysteries; an undiscovered underwater rock formation. I know this path, as I have traveled down it many times before. They think they know me, using their common adjectives to describe me internally. There are not words to align with who and what I am. I allow them to think whatever they want; they are going to do it anyway. Their minds are already certain, and made up; they distinctly know who I am. It is an association of a past experience they really know; not me, not who or what I am or about. I have become accustomed to it now; it has taken a whole lifetime to get used to. This is why all of the birds fly away from me; they already think they know who and what I am. No one has ever taken the time to listen, to see, and to understand the true meaning contained within my words. It is an expectation which will continue to exist unfulfilled. It does not bother me anymore, it used to, but not anymore. There is this deep flow which exists within me. This flow craves for someone to naturally have the ability to authentically transmute the meaning within my words. It is a delusional prospect, I know; yet the cravings never cease.