Free Your Consciousness

Awake in a Sleeping World

The further along you progress in your cognitive advancement, the more isolated you will become. The more your perceptions expand, and your awareness increases, the more alone you will feel in a world of sleepers.
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Spiritual Masochists

Breaking free from the cognitive mind prison is an ongoing endeavor; it is a lifelong process. It is constant deconstruction and rebirth; it is a continuous striving for self-actualization and self-creation in the face of monumental lies and mind control methodologies.
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System Fodder

You were born into the lunatic asylum, ejected from the warm and nurturing care of your mother’s womb, into the cold and relentless clutches of the world.
Here, you will be diminished, your self-worth crushed beneath the waves of conformity, your heart imprisoned, your expression punished. 
You will take on a name, and an ego, and you will be trained to identify with everything that you are not.
You will be herded as cattle, each moment one strep closer to the slaughter, as this world and that which you have held sacred, is murdered.
The dead walk amongst you in this mortuary. The fallen have risen. The cursed have been blessed in this shithole, and you foolish slaves place your faith into those satanic douchebags. That will never be anything more than your recipe for disaster.
Why not try living and expressing as the sovereign and sentient being that you are? Why do you allow them to imprison your spirit? Why do you place your soul willingly upon the altar of sacrifice?
Why do you not aspire to be anything more than system fodder? Because your consciousness is imprisoned in the mindfuck matrix, and you are a bumbling fool.
You rejects will choose your own criminal deviants to mislead you into the pits of hell. You worship enemies of freedom, so therefore, you shall fall.
And now you walk alone, like a musty old coffin, still ripe with the stench of the dead. You have become a product of the machine. You are system fodder.  
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Living Coffins

The dead walk amongst the living; empty vessels aimlessly wandering through the cemetery of life, distant, vacant, soulless.
Silent whispers echo through the halls where memories fade and dreams dissolve. Shadows dance in an eternal twilight, as remnants of souls linger, caught in the delicate balance between existence and oblivion.
The living coffins drift, searching for a semblance of warmth, a touch of humanity, but find only the chilling embrace of darkness.
A cold malaise surrounds the walking dead; they remain oblivious to the chains that bind them.
They stumble through the fog of their nonexistence, their once vibrant eyes now glazed over with the haze of sorrow and forgotten hopes.
Each step taken with the weight of a thousand sorrows, dragging them deeper into the abyss of their own despair. An eerie silence pervades, broken only by the occasional groan of a soul too weary to carry on.
Can the living coffins be resurrected? Is there any hope for them to be reborn? Or are they forever doomed to traverse the fallen wasteland, the desolate ocean of their own dead souls?
In the realm of shadows, there exists a glimmer of hope, a faint spark of light amid the engulfing darkness. It is whispered among the wisps of the ethereal fog that redemption is not beyond reach.
To resurrect these living coffins, one must journey into the depths of their own despair, confronting the ghosts of their past and embracing the pain that binds them.
A purification through suffering, a catharsis that cleanses the soul. It is said that within the heart of every lost soul lies a key, a fragment of humanity, waiting to be discovered and reignited.
The path to resurrection is treacherous and marked with trials, but it is not untraveled. For those who dare to seek it, the reward is a return to the world of the living, a chance to reclaim their lost souls. Guided by the dim light of hope, they must navigate the labyrinth of their own minds, casting off the chains of sorrow and cognitive imprisonment.
And so, the living coffins march on, some destined to find their way back to the realm of the living, while others remain ensnared in the desolation of their own haunted temple.
The choice is theirs to make, for within each one lies the power to transcend the shadows and embrace the light once more.
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Echoes

As your society, your nation, your world, and your psyche are about to collapse into oblivion, your blood-soaked chains clank through the streets of misery.
Your despair can be the catalyst for true change, but you lunatics seem to be in love with your suffering, as you traverse the windswept corridors of destruction and pain.
You move through the darkness, clutching to the remnants of a shattered dream, waiting for salvation in a land that has long forgotten hope and faith.
In the shadows, there lies a possibility, a flicker of transformation. Yet, rather than seizing it, you cling to the torment and chaos as if it were a lover’s embrace.
You celebrate your calamity and you operate within a satanic mindset, doctrines injected  into your feeble minds by your enemy that you refuse to acknowledge.
You beat to the drum of your own demise as the serpents position themselves to devour you.
The turmoil envelops you, as you dance to the discordant tune of criminal lunatics. On the edge of an abyss you teeter, reveling in the discord that threatens to consume you.
The doctrines of despair have infiltrated your minds, a calculated strike by adversaries you refuse to recognize. Denial runs thick in your veins, blinding you to the truth of your situation.
Your labor is stolen to finance the destruction of your brothers and sisters as you look away in willful denial.
The graveyard of wasted potential is where you dwell. Amidst the crumbling edifices of forgotten dreams, you wander aimlessly, burdened by the weight of unfulfilled promises and lost opportunities.
The echoes of what might have been resonate in your mind, a haunting reminder of the path not taken and the potential squandered.
Yet, in the darkest corners of your existence, there lies a glimmer of hope, a chance for redemption and transformation. Though you hesitate, fearing the unknown, it is within your grasp to rise from the ashes, to reclaim the destiny that once seemed unattainable.
The graveyard of wasted potential need not be your eternal resting place; with courage and determination, you can forge a new path and breathe life into your dormant aspirations.
www.dougmichaeltruth.com 

Towards a Higher Cognitive Innerstanding

For your entire life, you’ve been trained to diminish your own self-worth. You’ve been subordinate to a system that seeks to crush your spirit, to rip your soul asunder, to condition you into seeing evil as acceptable, violence as necessary, destruction as inevitable. You know what? It doesn’t have to be this way.
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The Simulation is Ending

The reality construct in which we find ourselves appears to be coming to its inevitable conclusion in this age. As time moves forward it seems to be speeding up ,and as the moments go by, things seem to be taking on quite a surreal quality.    
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This Cemetery Earth

Your world is a graveyard, strewn with the dead, the living coffins that walk amongst you.
The empty vessels haunt the corridors of this fallen realm, forever wandering aimless, vacant, distant.
Their hollow eyes reflect the desolation of a world forsaken, where the sun no longer rises and hope is but a distant memory.
Among the ruins of forgotten dreams, shadows linger, whispering tales of woe and despair, as the remnants of humanity drift like ghosts through the wasteland of the surreal.
The soulless ones hold your realm captive. Bound in blood-soaked chains of despair and calamity you remain.
Like windswept vessels tattered and empty, you remain adrift on the stormy seas of despair and ruin.
The echoes of lost souls reverberate through the emptiness, each whisper a mourning of forgotten lives, abandoned hopes. In this cemetery of existence, where every step is a journey through the remnants of what once was, the barren landscape mirrors the void within.
Among the shadows, faint glimmers of what could have been flicker and fade, swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
The souls that wander here are but echoes, reflections of the past trapped in a relentless cycle of sorrow and decay.
In the stillness, the air is thick with the scent of ruin, the silence pierced only by the mournful cries of the wind as it weaves through the skeletal remains of a world condemned.
This is the earth, a cemetery of dreams, where the living dead tread the path of eternal desolation.
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Trust the Plan

A few lone voices in the wilderness of cancel culture and algorithmic censorship have been warning from the start that the entire Q-ANONsense was a psychological operation, designed to play upon people’s optimism and desire to see justice served.
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Ego Death, or Ego Integration?

Through a lifetime of social engineering, societal conditioning, and various methods of psychological manipulation, we develop our concepts of reality and the world and erect our cognitive fortresses upon foundations of utter illusion. 
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