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: gg kalfas
Grotesquely Visualized Misunderstandings
These are the undeniable hands of creation. Of superstitions. Of maniacal retributions. The cleansing hands of purity and sterile sanctity. The battered hands of impunity. The dripping hands of piety. The filthy hands of revenge. Devouring the soul’s beloved enchantment. Another forgotten memory. Rotting. Seeping into obscurity. Delightful melancholy edibles. Dining and biting on the soul. One nibble. One bite. At a time. The only time you have left. Now. The present. It is not a gift. It is a necessity. Dwelling amongst the impure. Breathing within their faltered alternate reality. Their inept, bastardized version of a grossly, grotesquely visualized misunderstanding. You have now bear witness to the rest of your controlled life. Breathing right before your dismayed sights. Inebriating the blinded tranquility right before your very bloodshot eyes. This is another rendition of self-transformation in reverse. Conceptualized cannon fodder. The devolution of human morals and integrity. This is the abrasive awakening for the blackened soul. A control mechanism for the relentless. Undeniable defiance. Self-reliance. Control your own hands. Devouring suicidal machinations. Drinking the master’s snake oil, will no longer suffice. Your sacrifice has been served up for you. An encounter within the new world fodder. The paradise you have been lied to about. The truth kills the lies hiding within the eyes of bastards, deviants, psychopaths, and the black suits.
This is the Game the Humans Created
You hear it and see it all the time; in movies, books, television commercials, radio, online, everywhere: the world is not a safe place. The world is not a safe place, simply because people are not safe to be around. The world is fucked up, simply because people are fucked up. Everyone is trying to kill everyone, in some form or fashion; through any means available. Where is all of this coming from, or has it been here the whole time? It has been here the whole time, only now it is socially acceptable to be socially unacceptable. Fucking the other over is the name of the game of life. This is the game the humans created, not nature. Nature uses destruction to create, as humans use destruction to create profit; even if this means the destruction of all human life. What has made itself blatantly clear, is that no one cares about you, your life, or anything about you for that matter. You are not special or unique, all you are is a means to an end, for the real owners of this world. We are constantly being monitored every second of every day. We think we are having our own thoughts, but how many of our thoughts are actually are own? At every moment, we are bombarded with some type of propaganda. It is a never-ending regurgitation of forced-fed material, through a constant onslaught onto our senses. We are so used to it, we do not even notice it anymore. Our personal biorhythms, are being read, and detailed out, by all of the technology surrounding us. There will never be an end to it; this interpersonal invasion into our full being will continue to grow. This growth will eventually consume humanity, bringing about a new way of living life through a compartmentalization paradigm. Our daily lives, our personal relationship’s with other people, and the relationship we have with ourselves, are constantly being directly monitored by this invasion; all the time, every day, all day long.
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.
One Kiss and Swallow of a Slit Tongue
A casual encounter, within a cyst to remember. Another doubt to be considered. Doubting you will ever deliver. A promise into the night. When we both witnessed the new moon bright. The glow shined bright upon you and I. All through that night. You wanted to try. That was all you could do. There was not enough motivation for you to sink yourself in. You were fighting and biting, in between your cut-up words. Maintaining a silence, which would never be heard. You cannot change the death within your past. The life you died in was never meant to last. Giving birth to future lies, while creating knots with your twisted tongue. Witnessing the cataclysm behind your eyes. Scarred skin you will never mend or blend. This is when the sleep sets itself upon you. Deviant nocturnal gestures. Remembrances of blissful suicides, while blossoming and blooming itself into extinction. Untying the knots, will only make them tighter. A pretty noose to match your slit wrists. Delighted blood feast. Dinning within your corpses delight. Mangled and tangled. Deliverance within forgiveness. Hail the western winds of frailty. Seeking their lusts from within your enchantingly tainted womb. The growling and howling. Mating call of the tomb. Impregnating its hollowed sacrificial tendencies. Regrets never tasted. Used and destroyed. This hand knows your blame. A shame you sought out. It slit your throat. Twice. Not deep enough the first time. This is when I will use my other hand. This is how they know your blame. The blood remembers, as the mind is forgetful. Including me. Our defamation. The subtleness within the way we quietly kill one another. The embrace of chains upon one another’s chest. A glistening glow of the reached for torment. Simple variations of killing within beauty’s garden. One seed at a time. One kiss and swallow of a slit tongue. Feeling and feeding the inside of your mouth. Paralyzed cries. Servitude within your bleeding thighs. A reality we have both fantasized about. The inner breeding of bondage. Longing for its suffocating embrace. One at a time.
A Dark Serenade
You cannot take any more from me. The others have taken it all away. They have left me with nothing. Empty. Hollow. Right through to the center of my bones. They even sucked me dry of my marrow. This is all I have left to display for my life’s work. You can try. Nothing is all you will find. I am sure you will even try to take nothing from me as well. Something special for you to hold on to. The sweet blistering screams. A dark serenade; existing within the soundscapes of your living imperfections. How I crave, and love to dream of your painful blackness. This has happened before. Déjà vu. On a different vibration. On a different plane. In a different reality. Your kisses are missing the point. The air is filled with your kisses. The loving pain of their sweet annihilation. You will miss my last kiss underneath the midnight eclipse. There never has been any type of moral or motivational support. I do not know what morals would ever mean to you and I. Painting the feeling. With blood and bone. Dreaming the tearing. With sand and razor blades. Killing the willing. Subservient sacrifice. It is all the same to me now. There are too many questions being asked. Oblivion tastes sweeter than an unconscious confusion. This is what you have created life to be for yourself. Another chaos. Another cesspool. Another floor; feeling the delicate caress of your knees dropping to it. A new path you will follow. Better than the old one. A change of scenery. It is the same path you were on before. Leading to your apocalypse. Only the names and the people change. The paths never do. I saw how it came to this. How you strangled the love right out of yourself. Choking it to death. Asphyxiation fetish. There will always be someone to help you with that. Helping hands. If you do not appreciate the sights you have seen. You will never be able to understand the words painted upon it. Nor the bloodshed, which took place to create it. They broke you in two when you were young. Too young for open eyes. Too young for open thighs. Open thighs within a surprise. These types of surprises will get you killed. One way or another way. One cell at a time. One memory at a time. One lifetime at a time. Another way out, while you were looking for another way back in. Your body survived. Partially. Your psyche was shattered beyond repair. There is no mending for a broken soul. Carnality will preserver within the sub-human conditioning. Perverting your systemically impoverished mental capacity. One insertion after insertion at a time. Though, your mind did not make it. Slowly losing your spirit along the way. Along with your other sacred virtues, you desperately wanted nothing to do with. Your eyes see the same sights. A blinding moonlit night, which you will remember. Full moon rituals within romantic residuals. Slowly killing your shapeshifting ideals away from you. This is how collecting morals would eventually look, as they would be safely protected in your hidden treasure chest. A discerning type of forgetfulness, which simply allows a false pregnancy to be birthed into the world. Devouring and deciding the rest of your life for you. The romantic choices, which have been stripped away from your life. I know you have always been able to see me; denying your insightful spectrums. A life without me in it. Another pain you can embellish upon. Another opportunity to bleed yourself dry in. One last slit wrist. One last painful bliss.
G.G. Kalfas 