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.
Tag: poetry blog
By My Side
Tonight I will sleep with my daemons by my side. Within my dark heart is where they will usually go to hide. There is absolutely nothing left of what was once me. My daemons are curious in the way of how they will never leave me be. There is too much insight for me to see from within. There is not enough clarity for me to know where to begin. It really no longer matters. I find it interesting how most things in life soils, rots, or sours. Can you hear them? Those screams are coming from the inner summonings of my divine nature. My inner summoning’s screams are the hymns of my infernal overture. There are not many things which life left by my side. I thought you would be one of them but I could not decide. Your memories still remain trapped within. It seems I have wasted my life away after yours as I have lived within the ultimate sin. This is why my daemons sleep with me by my side. This is why my life has become a place in which only I can hide. My daemons keep me company just as they keep me safe from my inner burn. Under my flesh the memories of you continue to live within me and it is you for which I yearn.
Happiness
The only thing which brings a glimpse of happiness into my life is writing these blog posts.
A Lie You Could Never Deny
It has now ended. All of this without having a beginning. No understanding. For what it was created for. I could see the despairing look within your eyes. Distant and ever-glaring. Your skeleton kisses. Numb, lacking conviction. There was no feeling or emotion put into any one of them. A routine you know all too well. I was just another. A man from a mother. A man you felt needed to know the power of your rejection. A man who was going to show you a deep internal infection. It was not that powerful. As the stories would allow you to believe. I have dealt with atrocities such as yourself for most of my life. One of my avid pastimes. You can provide the heartbreaking part. I will provide the breaking part. Your inner sights have been blinded; never seeing the created damage of your life. You are in fact the damaged damage. The internal and external defamation of solicited ideologies. You are the stagnation of misinterpreted philosophies. Hollow body. Life’s commodity. Everything and everyone are for sale. Sale of the century. Sale of impiety. The sale of living in betrayal. Liquidating your morals and standards. Pennies on the dollar. Auctioning your standards off to the highest bidder. You are extraordinarily protective of your lost nature. I have never held you responsible for yourself. Many of the sheeple do not know they have the power to be responsible for themselves. I know you were not always this way. I knew you before you started your exploitation expedition. You took a couple of wrong turns. Never caring to get right with yourself. This is why you have harvested the shattered memories within your burnt garden of lies. This is what created your landscape of disillusionment. There is nothing to reach out to within your psyche. There is no communication within sight. Just the shallow end of your cesspool, which may need a little bit more chlorine. Pissing in the pool. You described yourself as deep, honest, and spiritual. It was a lie you could never deny. I have caught you in many of these, many of times. I have dealt with enough lies within my life. I can smell the lies before the mouth putrefies the air with their syllables. I will allow you to maintain the belief of you being strong. You are as strong, as steel is weak. You will never again know my thoughts. I will give you exactly what you have given to me. Nothing.
Some Type of Reasoning
If you feel as though you keep hitting a brick wall in life, then there must be some type of reasoning existing behind the wall. Sometimes circumstances exist to protect you, not to hinder your progress moving forward in life. Where does this protection come from? Perhaps a holy guardian angel, also known as an inner daemon? There is no exact threshold in which this knowing can fully be attained. Sometimes there will exist periods within one’s life, which simply needs to be lived through.
I am a Realist
It can be a confining feeling; being locked up within your mind your whole/hole life. There is no escape from the prison of one’s mind. A common place I have seemed to find myself in on a daily basis. There is no shelter in here, only the confining torment of the mind’s tricks and pleasures. A carousel of regrets, self-hatred, and lost opportunities. There is no escape from one’s self. To feel special and unique; this is a daydream only dreamers and deceivers fondle themselves in. I myself am a realist, as I can taste the bloodlust behind closed eyes. I can feel the temptations draining and rotting me from within. This is why I crave the isolation chamber; to keep the beast hidden from within, away from the rest of the world. No one has ever mistaken me for one of those weak-minded or weak-willed sycophants, who constantly need to be validated by complete and total strangers. The only thing worse than that, is being a stranger within one’s own mind.
G.G. Kalfas 