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Fiction for the Masses

Jeremy joined the Army in 2009 and served as a 12B Combat Engineer. He was stationed at Ft. Stewart, GA, and then deployed to Iraq and did route clearance. Jeremy medically retired when he returned from Iraq, and he is now attending CFCC for an Associates of Fine Arts with plans to earn a philosophy degree. He is a member of the CFCC PTK Honor Society and plans to use his background to become a life coach/corporate consultant.

With open eyes, my awareness meets consciousness; what has my existence become?

A free thinker but never free from the accountability of my thoughts, I must make a living sacrifice and die to myself; The one suicide that will keep me from hell.

Needing to conceive, preparing myself to receive, only to innovate what I believe. Knowledge becomes authority, with Creation stories sitting at the pinnacle.

As humanity is on the brink of creating another dimension, will synchronicity allow it, or will it just give her further anonymity?

Stringing together similarities with a knowing; creating fundamental ideas, foundationally as if I drank from the holy grail or read from a closed book that was always sought but
never found.

Tortured by the devil in a dream while wide awake. The worst pain that I’ve never had happen, only to be told that I was the toughest. Demanding the secrets of time, little did the devil know everything becomes a distraction when time is not yours.

So little did I understand when he told me that I didn’t even have a soul to take. I was so far from being abandoned.

In a world where Shepherds, losing their wisdom, have become more timid than the sheep, corruption has become commonplace in different circles under the same disappointed full moon.

The angels will know nothing of the itinerary.

The only thing that makes this stranger than fiction is the emotion that comes with truth. Falling in love with a girl with red hair and green eyes can only elevate you.

She told me I had to climb the tree to be with her where she was. Rite of passage to prove myself worthy, but I could not use anything to climb with.

Falling twice landed me in the hospital.

Recovering from a drug induced psychosis only took her away from me, leaving me with a love that was not augmented, and searching the eyes of every woman hoping that she might be real.

The acknowledgment that comes from synchronicity, I cannot help but to pray that it’s her on the other side of my observations, and she can look into my eyes and see the bitterness that comes from not knowing whether I should find her in this life or wait for the next.

With three lions sitting on my shoulder, one voice whispers in my ear that I am to lead for a generation. That failure is impossible, but be fearful of becoming a wolf in sheep’s clothing if ever becoming self-righteous, and that God will bring no mercy to his courts on my judgments.

Freed by faith, I am no longer confused by my estranged nature.

So consumed by what bleeds through from my mind, seeping from an oscillating rhythm, subconsciously whispering in the echoes of a still mind, barely loud enough to make a memory.

Don’t ever quit. You were designed for this.

To know something so closely that is not there, only to see it everywhere. To have a relationship with the mechanics of my beliefs.

Observing what becomes obvious.

I can’t dismiss my insanity; God gives his biggest battles to his strongest soldiers.

To not want that of man, to be able to see through, but then to get caught up in it, only has me feeling like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web, trapped to be cocooned again.

Humbly I pray.

Free me God, or give me death, just don’t let me lose my wings.

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