They are still talking to me; reminding me how little I have left to fall, in order to hit the bottom of life’s cesspool. Another pacifist trying to give me survival advice. Another noose I will need to tighten. Another indulgent delight I get to take part in. It never gets old; pacifying the ones who constantly need too much attention. Death, will more than likely be the only type of attention they will ever receive from me. The tears and fears they spread amongst themselves. Another virus to add to their motion picture pandemic. What kind of face covering do you wear to protect yourself from their stupidity? Some wear pointy hoods of cotton, while others wear M-95’s. I prefer for them all to see my face; naked and bare, and the disgust which is displayed upon it. It makes no difference to me, of how the others live their lives. All I ask is for the others not to proselytize their stupidity upon me. Really? Is it too much to ask? They get bored too easily; with absolutely no type of personal interests whatsoever, to keep them sharp, agile, or even self-aware. Self-awareness is truly lacking within these types, as though they are expecting everyone around them to be as dull, numb, and as stupid as they are. Very few have the ability to honestly think for themselves. Tell me; which one are you, agile or board?
Tag: ggkalfas
The True Lemmings
Lost in the details. Feeding myself from my own entrails. The decay seems to be with me to stay. A cyclical cycle. Digging deeper and deeper. Digging for gold. Searching to find a part of myself I can hold. The daydream. The fallacy of brutality. Another disappointment reaching into my reality. Yes, you may touch it. It is undefinably real. I just know it is. There is nothing more unappealing than a bluntly obtuse lack of consideration. This is what the selfish others bear before your eyes. They do not see, nor do they understand the lack of radiance as a person they possess within themselves. These are the true lemmings within society, as they are closely related to sheeple. One would say they are sewn together with the same thread of ignorance. Self-medicating, will dumb you down faster than any type of comingling with the lemmings or the sheeple. My personal favorite are the “potheads”. I have nothing against marijuana or the people who smoke it, but have you ever heard an intelligent word come out of a pothead’s mouth? Neither have I. The establishment want you to get high and or drunk; moreover, the establishment wants your consciousness to be permanently to remain altered. This is how the establishment will always have its way with you, by providing the means and methods for you to maintain a specific type of numbness to your emotions, your life, the world, and to the bitter depths of how the establishment controls your wretched life. I know, I know; I am sure you have your excuses, as to why I am wrong, and why I am full of shit. But if you really take a moment to look at the world, yourself, and your life; it will be easy to see (if you can be non-judgmental for more than 5 seconds) how nothing going on in this world makes any type of sense whatsoever.
Life Crushed It.
The sweet moans of life being birthed. The confusion settles in, as the sweet moans are not so sweet. The moans are the crying screams of thoughts, goals, and aspirations being crushed; one at a time. Life has a curious way of encroaching itself upon you, and upon your very consciousness. Life has a sense of humor only it understands. Ha fucking ha. Cyclical. The silent laughter of pain, torment, and rage. I have gone deaf from the silence.
A Funerial Heart
The cold warmth of a funerial heart. These are the times I can feel the disease within me; the disease within my mind. A diseased mind is a cure for life. A diseased mind and the living death, are truly the only cure for living within one’s life. How does one live in a world, where one is not recognized by it, yet they do not recognize the world? There is no day within the eternal night. The cessation within one’s own lifespan. Soft reverberations within one’s own rotting hand. The solitary warmth of one’s isolation, is the disease of ease. Too many attention seekers are seeking me. You must witness the nocturnal massacre, as you deeply breathe in their annoyances. Try not to choke on them.
There is a slight distinction within the hue, as neither you or I possess perfect eye sight. There is no vision, other than the type of vision one will allow to be bestowed upon them. Do you really think there is another type? No, there is not, as it was all a scam to begin with. I thought you knew all of this by now; I guess not.
One Death at a Time
Craving isolation within the heart and mind. Not the global inducing type, but that of the intrinsic type. There is much to be missed from not experiencing solitude. Solitude lacks the violent noises of the others thoughts. Within this solitude, you can actually hear your mind speak to you. Listening is easy when your boundaries are not constantly being violated by the others. Survival mode. Kill mode. Take them out. Take them all out. If you and I don’t take them out, the mind-numbing sitcoms they hypnotize themselves with eventually will. I enjoy watching them slowly die. Slowly. They enjoy watching their mind-numbing sitcoms, little do these sheeple know, they are my personal sitcom. A trade: a global death for a global death. One death at a time. It is so slow; creeping on them without their understanding. The bliss of ignorance is a common goal for the commoners. One death at a time.
Sinking Yourself Into Me
This is where we have always loved to play. Deep within your blackened mind. Those thoughts you are having right now at this very moment, they are not yours; they are mine. You can’t fool me, let alone yourself. You can say anything you like to me, but you and I will always know the truth. There is nothing you can hide from me. I see everything you try to live within. Those words, the clothing, that job, and that pathetic dripping life you so desperately keep clinging to, only weigh you down. Sinking yourself into me. I am a gluten for another’s punishment. I love to see the pain surface within another’s glossy eyeballs. Their eyes become so big; their lids are unable to keep them covered.
G.G. Kalfas 