Tag: death

Internal Consciousness

ggkalfas

To obtain purity within one’s essence, requires the fundamental understanding of being true to who and how you are within your internal nature. The essence contained within your internal being, is an internal representation of one’s external manifestations. The essence of who and what one is, could also be considered as the quality of one’s character. There are those who within their essence, possess a high quality of character; conversely, there are others who possess a substantially low quality of character. Only those who possess a high quality of character, will achieve ascension within their internal consciousness. One’s essence, is detrimental to their internal ascension. If one lives their life within the realms of theft, dishonesty, and coercion; they will maintain a definite lowered vibrational frequency within their essence, as they will not possess the internal vibrational frequencies needed, in order to ascend within their internal consciousness. For one to possess a substantially low quality of character within their internal essence, will leave one to live a defilingly base existence. It is important to maintain one’s distance, when coming into contact with these types of lowered essence others, who exist with the external realm. Purity exists within every level of one’s internal being. Purity is the core divination within one’s internal essence, as it will focus one’s attention upon specific sights within their life. One’s internal and external paradigm, is seen through the lenses of one’s internal consciousness, and the purity of one’s internal essence.

Random Old Men

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I know the light never wanted me here. When I go outside to lurk within the societal realm, I will usually spot an old man, quietly sitting by himself. This old man is distant from the others sitting around him, as though he wants nothing to do with them. With the intensity of his thoughts glowing within his eyes; he looks into the distance of time and space. This is the distance contained within the past, or the uncertainty contained within the near future. Smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee alone, can be a relaxing moment within one’s life. This can also reveal the emptiness, which has been acquired over many decades from being alone within one’s life. When I see these random old men smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee alone, I know this is quite possibly what my future could look like. Confusion. Fight. Change. Want. Need. Touching. Feeling. Nothing. Not much. Nothing is random. Everything has purpose and meaning.

Life is Filled with Human Waste

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A physical love letter from your life; addressed to whom you have now become. A child’s hands are delicate and inquisitive. These curious qualities slowly rot away, as we carelessly enter through life’s threshold. Never again will we experience such definitive wonder, questioning, or certainty. Do you really think it is that important to experience these qualities? At certain times, yes; but these times are not sufficient enough to bring forth the inadequateness of an underlying longing for death. It is important to fulfill your nightmares, so the glares of the daylight will fade away into the obscurity, which is your wasted life. Perhaps a wasted life is not necessarily a waste. What is the defining point of not wasting one’s life? Monetary gains? Owning property? Something material and tangible? None of that external waste means anything within these pages. You should know that by now. I consider a life to be wasted, when one lives their life for another, and not for themselves. Life is filled with human waste such as this. Life is only a waste, if you use your time not following your inner guidance. Most of the others are stuck living in survival mode, never finding a way to follow their inner guidance, as many of these others do not know of its existence.

Necrotic Whispers

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It is as delicate and solitary, as the night is dark and indulgent. My mind. You have prodded at it enough. Callused membrane. Futility exists, when trying to comprehend its contents. There is no use to indulge yourself within the realms of honesty and purity. There are no thoughts for you to reflect upon, or to bathe within. The sweet sad notes of your voice; lingering and tingling within the shards of broken glass you swallowed. There is no future here for you to dwell within. There only exists the past of consecrated misfortunes and prior devastations, which will only know your broken words and thoughts, for your consideration. The tingling of shattered nerves, seem to scratch and itch within themselves. Ready to ignite the soulmates and the soul’s fates. You were speaking empty words, with a native tongue, within the singularity of tempting the masses. Your people. Sweating and wetting upon your unguarded fleshy mind. A doormat for strangers to walk over. Welcome. Come on in. Make yourself at home. The song within your beaten heart, will never be sung nor heard. The stinging within your words, will forever linger upon your dripping tongue. Another shattered and lathered bedtime story. Waiting for me to tuck you in; tucking you back into your coma. Time flies when you are unconscious, as this is the best way to travel. Dead weight as carry-on luggage. Dead weight for others to carry-on. An inconsideration you will always consider. I can hear your necrotic whispers in my ears. You thought they would sound sexy in my ears. My ears have heard it all.

A Name With No Meaning

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It might be necessary to simply let go of wanting to achieve hopes, dreams, aspirations, and goals. It might be necessary to simply let go, and to live life within one’s true self. There is no external world, for hopes, dreams, aspirations, and goals to live within, as these types of paradigms only exist within the external, not the internal. I am my own internal and external. I am my own consciousness. I am my own reality. I am beginning to see just how frivolous the external world of achievement truly is. Achievement within the external is measured by what you can get, how much you can get, and how one may look within another’s eyes. What a waste of energy that is. Living one’s life, has truly become a lost artform. Not many of the others possess any type of comprehension of what consciousness truly is. It is another lost regimen, an informal specimen within the cracks and crevasses of the human soul. Life without a purpose or a goal. Living deep within a self-created hole. It is the living manifestation within fear and hesitation, which creates the worthless glorification of life’s cessations. There is no more life to live or to give, within a name with no meaning. The robin has always flown alone, searching hurriedly for his lost home. Looking for a place he can fit in, but has not found a place where he can begin. Life began a long time ago, yet Death has pulled a thread, which Life forgot to sew. Rip, torn, and spread, the life which was once lived and read. Another sarcasm, another phantasm, another reason, another internal treason. When eyes have the power and possess a taste which is sour, dirt shall be all which is left to devour. Another truth with no worth, another psychological mishap, another verbalized jaw strap. The conclusion to a life once lived. It died a long time ago, along with the goodness in me.