The transition of an internal demolition. Killing the insides, just so you can grasp fragments of the air around you in order to breathe. Breath is completely overrated. Tell that to a drowning victim. In a way, we are all victims; of our decisions, choices, and personal attitudes. When life is suffocating you, and you do not have the internal capacity to breathe, it can be somewhat challenging to see straight. This is especially true if your lenses are dirty, and you need a new prescription. It’s nothing new to me: old hat. These cycles run themselves around my mind, and through my soul. Soul-crushing. A transition’s grin. The depths of insanity. The reality of uncertainty. I still look for that supposed silver lining. It’s covered in the blood and wreckage of my past. Another endeavor I could not spiritually afford. An affirmation. A devastation. The circumference of a broken heart. The radiance of a glowing death. Tears and fears in arrears. The only way to pay for life’s decisions and choices when under duress. How else did you think it was going to turn out? There is no fairytale to hold on to. There are no remembrances, which do not make me cringe. Some would say, “Just hang in there, it’ll work out if you just give it some time.” I feel as though time has run out. Time ran away from me crying and screaming. I truly wish I knew better, But at this point in my life, what the fuck is the point to any of it? The love I had within me died the day I was born.
Tag: birth
Conditioned.
At this very moment. You are being conditioned. In thought. In word. In deed. They are not your own, as these are circumstances “brought to you by (buy)” the Control Machine. Your new best friend. Your new God. Your new parental advocacy committee. Your New Normal. You are living a lifestyle/lifetime, that has been carefully molded and mandated for the consumption and convenience of your consciousness. That gritty taste upon your tongue, and in between your teeth; that’s the taste of dirt in your mouth. What else would you be tasting lying six feet under, trapped in a casket?
Which One Are You?
They are still talking to me; reminding me how little I have left to fall, in order to hit the bottom of life’s cesspool. Another pacifist trying to give me survival advice. Another noose I will need to tighten. Another indulgent delight I get to take part in. It never gets old; pacifying the ones who constantly need too much attention. Death, will more than likely be the only type of attention they will ever receive from me. The tears and fears they spread amongst themselves. Another virus to add to their motion picture pandemic. What kind of face covering do you wear to protect yourself from their stupidity? Some wear pointy hoods of cotton, while others wear M-95’s. I prefer for them all to see my face; naked and bare, and the disgust which is displayed upon it. It makes no difference to me, of how the others live their lives. All I ask is for the others not to proselytize their stupidity upon me. Really? Is it too much to ask? They get bored too easily; with absolutely no type of personal interests whatsoever, to keep them sharp, agile, or even self-aware. Self-awareness is truly lacking within these types, as though they are expecting everyone around them to be as dull, numb, and as stupid as they are. Very few have the ability to honestly think for themselves. Tell me; which one are you, agile or board?
One Death at a Time
Craving isolation within the heart and mind. Not the global inducing type, but that of the intrinsic type. There is much to be missed from not experiencing solitude. Solitude lacks the violent noises of the others thoughts. Within this solitude, you can actually hear your mind speak to you. Listening is easy when your boundaries are not constantly being violated by the others. Survival mode. Kill mode. Take them out. Take them all out. If you and I don’t take them out, the mind-numbing sitcoms they hypnotize themselves with eventually will. I enjoy watching them slowly die. Slowly. They enjoy watching their mind-numbing sitcoms, little do these sheeple know, they are my personal sitcom. A trade: a global death for a global death. One death at a time. It is so slow; creeping on them without their understanding. The bliss of ignorance is a common goal for the commoners. One death at a time.
Sinking Yourself Into Me
This is where we have always loved to play. Deep within your blackened mind. Those thoughts you are having right now at this very moment, they are not yours; they are mine. You can’t fool me, let alone yourself. You can say anything you like to me, but you and I will always know the truth. There is nothing you can hide from me. I see everything you try to live within. Those words, the clothing, that job, and that pathetic dripping life you so desperately keep clinging to, only weigh you down. Sinking yourself into me. I am a gluten for another’s punishment. I love to see the pain surface within another’s glossy eyeballs. Their eyes become so big; their lids are unable to keep them covered.
The Potential of Your Internal Nature
The dead always wonder what happened to their life. Where did it go? How did they get here? Why do I feel numb? Some of the living ask themselves the same questions. It is said the most important part of living, is the way you lived your life, the quality of one’s character, or if they found true love or not. Non of this is true. In this reality, none of this matters. The only thing that matters, is your internal nature. If one lives their life in accordance to their inner nature, then one has lived throughout the potential of their existence within this mortal realm. If you think or feel my claim is false; ask anyone who has crossed-over and came back, or any entity who has crossed over and didn’t come back. They will most certainly back me up on this.
G.G. Kalfas 