Shadows upon the records. Cyclical turns make the memories burn. Scarring the adorned flesh. Face-mask-mesh. Diseased air with a deadened stare. The density between you and I. Words of a craft. The witch’s talk. Words you have heard and adorned from your cradling. A child with wild aspiration. A woman with curves of devastation. Subtle lips. Caressing hips. Dips deep into my void. I am curious, mysterious, and intriguing that way. Guessing and blessing through life’s undressing. I know you know me. Strangers of an alternate reality. I know you know me. I am the darkness within your light. A satisfaction of infernal delight. Choices are made. Words are obeyed. Lives are slaved. Living life is the deconstruction of a skin trade. I know you know me. Thought of the records turning within your mind. Where did you go when you became lost within yourself? Another secret hiding place to feel safe within. Safety is the illusion you and I dream about every night. Alternate realities within alternate deities. Another secret and safe place to hide within. It is a secret you and I will never share with another soul, nor one another. I know your secrets, only because they are mine.
Tag: darkness
Spiritual Dissonance
Seeking out its pleasures underneath the skin of others. A permanent marking within the soul. Bending backwards within it. Snap your soul in two. A piece for me. You can keep the other half. A memento of how you used to be. Falsity at its finest. The greatest hope existing from within. Company for the shallow and hollowness. Your life companions. Devouring your peace of mind. One piece at a time. Pieces of your fragmented reality. No inner peace. Pieces of mind. Outer defiance. Self-reliance. A lost circumstance within a neurotic embrace. Searching within the defilement of a membrane. Pulsating glances. You keep looking; searching for me. One search at a time. Finding nothing to look forward to. Intentions are more fulfilling than the actual reality. Isolation station. Rejected infection. Satiety within its own processes. A look within a magick egg. Are you ready to cleanse me? Spiritual dissonance. Observance of the desire you inflict upon me. I am ready for your fleshy tongue to annihilate me. A spirit contained within my possession. The bruja and the brujo keep looking for me. I have been waiting for their embrace. Desiring their eyes to look upon me, and within me. Cleansing me of my entities. One at a time. Too powerful to release them into the world all at once. I keep my possessions a secret.
Every Type of Death has an Origin of Recognition
Suffer to remain alive. A blissful decent through, and into your rotted life of inhumanity. Striving towards carcinogenic thought processes; devouring wholly and wide. Deepening all you have ever thought you have known. One more dip into the death pit. Slipping back inside yourself from underneath. Dying memories submerged underneath and around your feet. The hypnotizing stench of the buried dead you are standing over. A deeper translation; penetrating what you have always wanted to release. The thickening pale stench; permeating profusely through your nostrils. A resistance to the translation; suffocating you from within its putrid depths. These were your own words; your own bleakness manifested. A faint recognition of the bleak origin you were birthed from and into. Every type of death has an origin of recognition. Your face within the constellations of the blackened night sky. Contorting within a black hole; no one else will ever see within your eyes, but they will always get sucked into you through derangement. The midnight death rattles a baby plays with. Movement of the eternal dance through your eye’s origin. A black hole no one will ever see or recognize ever again.
G.G. Kalfas 