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: self reliance
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.
Deep Within the Burn
When strength and curiosity collide; this is when you know your time is up. The early hours are usually the most honest hours; containing the thoughts that would not dare to allow one to sleep. Hunger. Nausea. Ridicule; all burning a hole in your stomach. A fire that will burn you alive. A type of scarring a skin graft will never be able to cover. The rage acts out on behalf of your past; erasing, or at least trying to erase, every defeating memory within your thought process, which burns you alive. The Phoenix. The only ashes I have seen, are the ashes from my cigarettes. Breathe it in deeper. Choke on the aroma. Allow the bliss to settle deep within the burn. Be the fire, which burns you alive. Be your inner yearning.
The Potential of Your Internal Nature
The dead always wonder what happened to their life. Where did it go? How did they get here? Why do I feel numb? Some of the living ask themselves the same questions. It is said the most important part of living, is the way you lived your life, the quality of one’s character, or if they found true love or not. Non of this is true. In this reality, none of this matters. The only thing that matters, is your internal nature. If one lives their life in accordance to their inner nature, then one has lived throughout the potential of their existence within this mortal realm. If you think or feel my claim is false; ask anyone who has crossed-over and came back, or any entity who has crossed over and didn’t come back. They will most certainly back me up on this.
The Way We Are
A senseless act of consciousness. A random thought within the many sub-levels. This is when it fucks with you. Those little mindfucks seem to follow you and I around, no matter where we seem to go. A deliberate act of consciousness. Create the circumstances, which allow the blinding and deafening images to surface from within. It is not the circumstances which are lethal, but the tag-alongs and piggybacks which also surface along with it. That my friend, that is the true death, which supports the mindfucks spinal column. Another broken vertebrae. The invertebrates always seem to creep up on you and I. This is probably why you and I are the way we are.
The Boneyard of Your Bondage
The needle has been threaded, within the fabric of which you are embedded. A glimpse into the boneyard of your bondage. Threads can easily be severed, releasing that which is treasured. Hearing lies coming from the mouths of flies. A home in which you inhabit alone. The only type of frothing a wilted mouth can provide, and the methods from which it is sewn. These are words the herds will never know.
G.G. Kalfas 