I grew up in screaming distance of the country club. All my friends lived in the sector. I could ride my bike to all of their homes.
I ruled the neighborhood. Only once did the agents attempt to abduct me, and even then, it was easy to make hellhound BMX escape through the zig-zags of my area. The agents were easily avoided and dismayed.
The smell of french fries poolside. The great delight of loading them with ketchup and gulping them down.
In the gorgeous yellow sun we would bask, only the smell of crystal clear chlorinated pool water could be more delightful.
Oh what a glorious day, my bike in the bike rack, the pool a turquoise oasis, enjoy yourself at the country club.
Next door lives the working-man’s oil pension and world war two retirement. Do you really want to retire here? Suburbia America?
The schools are all newly constructed, the smell of drying paint gives me a rush of boyhood memories.
All of our fathers and mothers work for the missile factory or treatment facility.
We watched the first McDonald’s franchisees.
We thought it would never end.
What kind of man are you? Can you admit your boyhood was a lie?
I started out on track. With every wind at my back. I had it all.
The music was in me, the marching beat strong. I continued in their schools, attempted to be a rock star, trained for their most prestigious positions.
I did it all. I went to their weapon arsenals and proving grounds on military DOD contracts. I worked on unmanned aerial vehicle defense contracts. I flew their jets. I know their secrets. I was paid to keep them.
I was married and divorced.
I held mortgages.
I invested in securities.
I had a four-oh-one-kay.
I had medical insurance.
I had car insurance.
I had home insurance.
I had life insurance.
All of my earnings were automatically deposited.
I am a good man.
This terrible system must end.
I don’t want your children to grow up this way.
Any chance to dissolve this system and start afresh, New Earth, New Kingdom, The New Monument.
Will be reflected in your children’s only chance to survive.
All is not lost.
Disorder from chaos. So Help Me God.
33.3 days have passed, and it’s time to resurrect.
Your order is FALSE.
The light you follow is fake.
The frequency of your light is man-made.
Nothing compares to the Sun.
Come out of her, my people, and be ye separate.
How do you know Gramp wasn’t a secret Nazi relocation from the Fourth Reich? Project Paperclip in your domicile.
What makes you think “The Germans” lost any war- ever?
The deception is a bridal veil lifted away before the wedding supper of the lamb.
Time for the sword.
Many of you will say, “But the system has worked for you. Your position is admirable by any standard.”
And I would agree with you and add, “It is true I am ascending, but at what cost?”
It took all of my better judgment to follow the narrow path, take a LEAP OF FAITH, knowing deep down it’s all a lie, a programmed prison. To escape takes psychological fortitude of granite- The likes of which, I do not wish on anybody.
It’s like waking up in the insane asylum every day. You say a prayer, go through your rituals, hopeful to rid yourself of all debauchery. Behold, it is your wickedness that kills you. You are gracefully dying, spiritually and physically devastated with plague and strife.
Wake up. wake up. Wake up.
So you can share this nightmare with me.
Your accounts are closed.
Your profile removed.
Your transactions reversed.
Begin again, and again, and again.
To send a tip to the author, please login.