I referred to them as those unidentifiable cravings. You know; those specific desires one may have to go out into the world, and simply live within it. How does one go out into the world to live within it, when there no longer seems to be any type of emotional connection to it whatsoever? The disdain for the external is becoming more and more difficult to live with. It is as though I am watching the humans larping through their daily lives. Authenticity seems to have perished, along with any type of morals and ethics, which the majority of humans possessed at one time during their evolution. Yeah, you’re right; the humans never did have much to do with morals and ethics. Yes; it does seem as though humanity is simply a slideshow of narcissistic buffooneries; maintaining some type of equilibrium through finding importance with everything in life, which really does not have any type of importance associated to it. Do you think this is the new humanity; the final evolution of the human race? Yeah, but, how did we go from Aristotle to social media influencers? Yeah, you’re right; larping was humanities downfall.
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A Name With No Meaning
It might be necessary to simply let go of wanting to achieve hopes, dreams, aspirations, and goals. It might be necessary to simply let go, and to live life within one’s true self. There is no external world, for hopes, dreams, aspirations, and goals to live within, as these types of paradigms only exist within the external, not the internal. I am my own internal and external. I am my own consciousness. I am my own reality. I am beginning to see just how frivolous the external world of achievement truly is. Achievement within the external is measured by what you can get, how much you can get, and how one may look within another’s eyes. What a waste of energy that is. Living one’s life, has truly become a lost artform. Not many of the others possess any type of comprehension of what consciousness truly is. It is another lost regimen, an informal specimen within the cracks and crevasses of the human soul. Life without a purpose or a goal. Living deep within a self-created hole. It is the living manifestation within fear and hesitation, which creates the worthless glorification of life’s cessations. There is no more life to live or to give, within a name with no meaning. The robin has always flown alone, searching hurriedly for his lost home. Looking for a place he can fit in, but has not found a place where he can begin. Life began a long time ago, yet Death has pulled a thread, which Life forgot to sew. Rip, torn, and spread, the life which was once lived and read. Another sarcasm, another phantasm, another reason, another internal treason. When eyes have the power and possess a taste which is sour, dirt shall be all which is left to devour. Another truth with no worth, another psychological mishap, another verbalized jaw strap. The conclusion to a life once lived. It died a long time ago, along with the goodness in me.
Dark Auras
Sifting within the glistening sin. Hands bound without a sound. Disdain for the profound and profane. There is nothing else sweeter than the putrid embrace of your pain. Release the deceased living from within. Bury the dead with the rest of the words, which have already been said. A new Aeon arrives, as it can see thorough your illusory disguise. Embrace the dark aura of wilted indolence, as this will be the only way you will find your internal independence. Words can be enchanting, but your Death can be more hypnotic. Yet, life has a way of becoming lost within one’s created chaotic. A Dark Aura, is a gift from the Universal. Unfortunately, many of the others, treat life as though it was some type of preparational rehearsal. I can assure you; it is not. This is it. This is all you have, as this is all you are, within this brief moment of your life. If it gets better, or if it gets worse; it is solely up to you. Now fuck off.
I Think You Know Me
Those words of cyclical torture, which you constantly hear within the back of your mind, must be quite tedious to listen to when you and I engage in conversation. Inner dialogue has the capacity to be quite telling, and quite weighted; especially when you and yourself are the only ones who can hear the inner dialogue. I know you know me, just as I know you. I know you are a deep thinker; I can tell from your (anti)social media feed just how intelligent, philosophical, and profound you are. I am sure your thumb is exhausted from scrolling through all of the other deep thinkers posting their “profoundness” on social(ist) media. No, the others within your life do not “get” nor “understand” you, but I do. I know exactly who and what you are. No, I do not judge, but I do observe. Have you ever wondered why there are no more thinkers, such as: Aristotle, Nietzsche, Emerson, or Twain within the world? It mostly has to do with the fact that the majority of the lemmings within society, are quite comfortable not thinking for themselves, and prefer for social(experiment) media to do it for them. I know you are young, but yes; there was a time within our society when individuals (not followers, as followers will never lead), were rewarded for thinking for themselves. A time within human history did in fact exist, when being an individual profoundly meant something, and was looked upon with great reverence. In today’s world; one’s thumb gets more exercise than one’s mind. Think about that for a moment, if you have the capacity to actually think. I am beginning to come to the conclusion that you will never know me; simply because you have never taken the time to know yourself.
Words Fly Away
One fragmented disillusion at a time. Can only handle one at a time. Systemic retribution is annihilated. Quietly annihilated. Creep into it softly. As soft as you can. One breath and one death at a time. The secret contained within the lie. Incantated words of deliberate creation. No use for binding. They will freely fly away. Words fly away. Doomed to relive your faded ways. Within death’s eyes is where you will stay. Give life to yourself. The inner midnight radiance of your glow. I have seen how you have no more to show. More than what you have the ability to contain. Another onset through the manipulated senses. This will give rise to a specific type of self-doubt. Never ending. Always manipulating your biological rehabilitation. The never-ending cycle of neurosis. A mental rehabilitation. Spiritual fascination.
A Lost Artform
These are the hands, which create the living understanding of what you and I have become. There is no other way for you and I to live within one another, other than complete and total annihilation of the way you and I used to live. This can be quite a devastating undertaking, even for the steel-minded types, such as you and I. I am my own internal and external, my own creation within the rotted devastation of society’s excrement. I am my own consciousness; my own reality. I am beginning to see into the depths of just how frivolous the external world of achievement truly is. Living one’s life, is quickly becoming a lost artform; an ancient language written in cuneiform. The sheeple within the external realm, lack the fundamental understandings, of what conscious and unconscious truly means within one’s creative processes. Yet, there are not many people within this realm, who know how to read cuneiform.
