Do you ever wonder, or even think about where you come from? I’m not talking about your family, country of origin, or even your blood lineage. I’m talking about the person you have become, due to your life experiences. It’s those little nuances, which you and I usually refer to as, “life experiences”, which carve themselves deeply into, and nestle themselves fervently into our fragile psyches. Some of us come from a home, which one of our parents haphazardly decided to break. Some of us come from an interpersonal relationship, which revealed itself to be one sided. Some of us come from a horrendous amount of trauma, which was more than likely given by one whom claimed to have love for us. Some of us come from a specific type of mental anguish, which will forever haunt every single waking moment, until we transcend this mortal coil. Some of us come from ourselves, as only our true selves, will allow us to find the mental and spiritual health we will truly need, in order to defeat the atrocities of the external realm, and to finally possess the inner strength and love we need, in order to survive this contorted life.
Tag: forever
The Sweet Sad Notes of Your Voice
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.
G.G. Kalfas 