Lost in the details. Feeding myself from my own entrails. The decay seems to be with me to stay. A cyclical cycle. Digging deeper and deeper. Digging for gold. Searching to find a part of myself I can hold. The daydream. The fallacy of brutality. Another disappointment reaching into my reality. Yes, you may touch it. It is undefinably real. I just know it is. There is nothing more unappealing than a bluntly obtuse lack of consideration. This is what the selfish others bear before your eyes. They do not see, nor do they understand the lack of radiance as a person they possess within themselves. These are the true lemmings within society, as they are closely related to sheeple. One would say they are sewn together with the same thread of ignorance. Self-medicating, will dumb you down faster than any type of comingling with the lemmings or the sheeple. My personal favorite are the “potheads”. I have nothing against marijuana or the people who smoke it, but have you ever heard an intelligent word come out of a pothead’s mouth? Neither have I. The establishment want you to get high and or drunk; moreover, the establishment wants your consciousness to be permanently to remain altered. This is how the establishment will always have its way with you, by providing the means and methods for you to maintain a specific type of numbness to your emotions, your life, the world, and to the bitter depths of how the establishment controls your wretched life. I know, I know; I am sure you have your excuses, as to why I am wrong, and why I am full of shit. But if you really take a moment to look at the world, yourself, and your life; it will be easy to see (if you can be non-judgmental for more than 5 seconds) how nothing going on in this world makes any type of sense whatsoever.
Tag: consciousness
Life Crushed It.
The sweet moans of life being birthed. The confusion settles in, as the sweet moans are not so sweet. The moans are the crying screams of thoughts, goals, and aspirations being crushed; one at a time. Life has a curious way of encroaching itself upon you, and upon your very consciousness. Life has a sense of humor only it understands. Ha fucking ha. Cyclical. The silent laughter of pain, torment, and rage. I have gone deaf from the silence.
A Funerial Heart
The cold warmth of a funerial heart. These are the times I can feel the disease within me; the disease within my mind. A diseased mind is a cure for life. A diseased mind and the living death, are truly the only cure for living within one’s life. How does one live in a world, where one is not recognized by it, yet they do not recognize the world? There is no day within the eternal night. The cessation within one’s own lifespan. Soft reverberations within one’s own rotting hand. The solitary warmth of one’s isolation, is the disease of ease. Too many attention seekers are seeking me. You must witness the nocturnal massacre, as you deeply breathe in their annoyances. Try not to choke on them.
There is a slight distinction within the hue, as neither you or I possess perfect eye sight. There is no vision, other than the type of vision one will allow to be bestowed upon them. Do you really think there is another type? No, there is not, as it was all a scam to begin with. I thought you knew all of this by now; I guess not.
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.
For the World to Choke Upon
What is it exactly, which seems normal to you? Your scattered thoughts? Your mumbled words? The short breaths you seem to choke upon, on a daily basis? No; none of this would be considered normal. Hell, you and I have always been far removed from anything, which would be considered normal. This is why you must create your own salvation within your very own thought process. The others, who are very much basic within their thoughts, words, and deeds, all seem to be oozing propaganda from their thoughts. I have to wipe it off from my boots most of the time when I walk past them. This is why I try not to walk past them. This is why I have nothing to do with them. This is why I have never trusted them. How can one trust, that in which will betray themselves, let alone betray another within the blink of a thought? This is why distance is so important. Distance allows one to see the forest and the trees at the same time. Distance allows one to maintain the integrity of their thought process. Distance is what allows you and I to maintain our heritage within the corruption of another’s distortion. I have seen it so many times; false ideologies being indoctrinated upon the weak-minded. If one does not know what to think, another will happily provide their thoughts for them, as these thoughts are contained within the mirror for the world to choke upon.
An Everlasting Tone
It is not that I do not care, it is more of having put caring on pause. It is as though life is a movie I am watching, and I can pause it anytime I choose, simply to take a restroom break. Yeah, you’re right; it is pretty much shit all the way around. I should have listened to you from the beginning. I never did listen, as I have always wanted to figure out things (life) out on my own, and for myself. Sometimes it works out; sometimes it doesn’t. Does it really matter? None of it ever did, and I am beginning to recognize it now, as I was not able to do so before. What makes a bell ring at the specific tone in which it does? It is obviously due to the way that specific bell is shaped. Well, do you think you and I ring within specific tones, in accordance to the way you and I are shaped? I am still ringing-out from those choices and decisions. An everlasting tone, which still haunts my mind. The ringing is so loud, so abrasive, it makes my inner demons hide within their own shadows. Could you imagine? What a fucking waste of time; hiding within the shadow of your own shadows. It’s okay though; time is the only thing you can waste, when one has completely lost their mind, and everything that comes within it.
G.G. Kalfas 