It is these hollow mornings that will definitely eat you alive. In one solid bite. In one solid swallow. Those softly creeping footsteps you keep hearing coming from behind you, those footsteps are the sound of uncertainty coming to pay you a visit. An old friend who would like to remind you of your life and of your past. As though you do not have enough remnants of your past haunting you on a daily basis, uncertainty wants to make sure you absorb it fully, wholly, and completely. All of it. Every tiny morsel. Family and friends are also laughing at you. They never could understand your thought process, let alone anything which makes you who you are. The voices are grading and intruding upon one’s consciousness; violating the serenity wanting to bloom from within. No one could ever understand me, but I know you do. At least you act as though you do.
Tag: heart
Breath is Completely Overrated
The transition of an internal demolition. Killing the insides, just so you can grasp fragments of the air around you in order to breathe. Breath is completely overrated. Tell that to a drowning victim. In a way, we are all victims; of our decisions, choices, and personal attitudes. When life is suffocating you, and you do not have the internal capacity to breathe, it can be somewhat challenging to see straight. This is especially true if your lenses are dirty, and you need a new prescription. It’s nothing new to me: old hat. These cycles run themselves around my mind, and through my soul. Soul-crushing. A transition’s grin. The depths of insanity. The reality of uncertainty. I still look for that supposed silver lining. It’s covered in the blood and wreckage of my past. Another endeavor I could not spiritually afford. An affirmation. A devastation. The circumference of a broken heart. The radiance of a glowing death. Tears and fears in arrears. The only way to pay for life’s decisions and choices when under duress. How else did you think it was going to turn out? There is no fairytale to hold on to. There are no remembrances, which do not make me cringe. Some would say, “Just hang in there, it’ll work out if you just give it some time.” I feel as though time has run out. Time ran away from me crying and screaming. I truly wish I knew better, But at this point in my life, what the fuck is the point to any of it? The love I had within me died the day I was born.
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.
G.G. Kalfas 