Gretings!
Thank you for subscibing to my personal blog. My posts are primarily excerpts from past publications I have written, and future books I have not yet published. It still blows my mind that others from around the world are interested in what I write about! So, if by chance you read this post, please leave a comment about yourself, and which country you are from. Thank you so much, I truly appreciate it!
G.G. Kalfas
Dear Pacifist,
Is this what you wanted; another circumcision for your mind? Pretty soon, you will not have anything left for the others to mutilate. It’s nothing new to you. Familiarity has always been a companion of yours. Sacrifice for the greater good, disdain, and complying with authoritarian daydreams, seems to be the movement for the sheeple towards attaining the golden star- a recognition of social status among the façade of the posers you crave to be like. How does it feel; not having enough vertebrae to stand erect? Unfortunately for you, there is no pill to ingest for that type of erectile dysfunction. I was wondering if you could help me understand; when exactly did spiritual and mental weakness become something to strive for? It seems the majority of the sheeple have succumbed to the diamonds contained within the undertow of subversion. How many of the sheeple do you think actually know what the word subversion actually means? Not one of them, as I see them living it every day of their life.
The night after Halloween is always thickened with life. The living nights transcend into dead dying days. These are the days when they come to visit you and I. You are usually not prepared for them, but I always am. I know exactly what they want; exactly what they are looking for. They are looking for the secrets you are keeping safely hidden from the rest of the world; they are looking for my soul, as this is what I have always kept safely hidden from the rest of the world. Externalized torture can sometimes act as a safety net for those who are inexperienced; unlike you and I. We are masters of our craft, an exhibition of experience and excellence. Flesh is easy to slice away from the body; far easier than it is to slice those wretched memories from one’s fragmented mind. Slice away.
Dear, Tedious
A dead end is not dead, nor is it an end. It is usually alive, dripping with the fruition of a new beginning. Isn’t a birth a death within itself? Now, I know what you’re thinking. You foolishly think this random blog post is an open door, which leads directly into the depths of my psyche. As though after reading this post, you own the true foundation of what it means to understanding myself and the rest of my kind. A follower will never have the capacity to understand an individual. You and the rest of the promulgated sheeple think the same fucking thing, time and time again. Your rudimentary thoughts and ideals are laughable. I’m not laughing. I understand your desire to be the top peck in the pecking order. You know it’s all nonsense; right? Of course you do. I mean, you wouldn’t be reading this post if you didn’t. I know you’re smarter than the rest of them; the other sheeple you blindly follow. Your intellect knows no bounds, other than the bounds of your short-sided, closed-mindedness. I understand your desire to connect and to belong. I also understand that death could be a viable option for you, perhaps it is an activity or at least a hobby you should look into. Perhaps your mirror has been lying to you this entire time, or the truth is far too lethal for you to face alone. Either way, you’re fucked.
P.S.
Get a new mirror and stop looking at me.
Good Night.
This is when the creeping sets in. The slow dance of reality’s fracture. Noticeable to those who notice her enchantment. Beauty within the cracks of her tears. Drowning in the sorrows of the pleasures you have borrowed. Stolen. Mindlessness feeds the empathy, which the brain dead sheeple desire to feed upon. Craving. Slaving to see lies within their mirrored enchanted eyes. Group mentality is a slippery slope of fondue razor blades. Absolutely Delicious. The Grand Pyramid knows the truth; laughing as the brain dead and owned sheeple ignorantly graze. This is the way of sheeple; the way of rotting.
G.G. Kalfas 