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?
Tag: dark poetry
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.
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.
Natural Selection?
Considering their circumstances, it can be quite exhausting and tediously straining; dealing with the others, and their trivial thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Why on Earth would they think you or I would actually care about their personal holocausts? Who gives a fuck about them, or their internally shattered emotional states. One of the grand hallmarks of the others being in therapy, or undergoing some type of psychiatric treatment, is fiercely contained within their inner compulsion, their undying need to core-dump and completely unload all of their thoughts, feelings, emotions, and the contents of their emotionally unstable mentality and emotions onto those around them. Fuck that! These types of others should be killed immediately: upon sight and contact. Consider this the truest form of social justice. It is easy to understand how this is the real type of social distancing. Six feet apart? Try six feet under. I am the ultimate healthcare provider, the other type of HMO. I am the truest form of a self-help realization. I am the strongest pillar of this community, in the truest sense of the word. I can be defined as the ultimate outreach program; helping those who were never able to help themselves. If you are not able to survive in a world, which is designed to take your life; why should we allow technology to interfere with natural selection? We definitely should not.
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.
Circumvent the Initial Response
This is when the stinging thorn of a dark cold Winter, will stick itself deep into your Common Carotid Artery. One must ultimately circumvent the initial response, and come to understand that what is being felt is actually hereditary. This is a father’s negligent and unloving gift to a lost son; a lost son searching for himself within the life-numbing pain of the stinging thorn, which is contained within the dark of a cold Winter. There are times when you will feel an internal itching, as though what you are experiencing is coming from deep within your inner core. There are also times when that internal itching, is not part of your internal core, as it has been grown from within you, not of your own accord. This internal itching, is actually of a hereditarian disposition. This internal function, may feel as true to you, as you feel true to yourself, but this is the subtle illusion of a hereditarian trick being played out deep within your consciousness. There may be times when you instinctually may feel to act, or think of acting in a specific way. Yes; one will usually be reactive in a specific way, in accordance to their specific life experiences and thoughts processes. Yet, there is a good chance this could be another hereditarian trick being played out upon the consciousness. Your personal reactiveness, a specific thought, or the internal dialogue you may have, could in fact be that of a father, mother, or possibly even an ancestor would have had. In actuality, there is no real way to tell the difference between the two. There are special disciplines, which one could perform, in order to break away from any type, or any residual hereditarian behavioral patterns. The first and foremost important step one would need to explore, is the exploration of one’s true inner self. The inner rawness contained within one’s self, may in fact be the rawest and most difficult process they may ever endure. A tremendous amount of inner strength is needed, in order to accomplish this endeavor. For most people, this can be a terrifying act of self-exploration, as they will spend the rest of their lives wanting to follow through within exploring themselves, yet lacking the initiative and inner strength needed in order to do so.
G.G. Kalfas 