Home alone . Rituals.

 

...There were nights when I retreated inward, rivers flowing from private wells of grief within. There was no shoulder to catch me, so I bore silent witness to my unraveling instead. When sunlight returned, I met it with a mask of normalcy, concealing evidence of recurring pain-threatening cracks in my pillar of control.

I endured lost in obsessive cycles and worry, my smile flashing convincingly as a weary stranger while needing just one person to discern my hurt. But rescue came from within instead of external sources in due time, as it always does...Now I stand, humility and resilience rising from healing gently after silent storms weathered solo. Scars remain, yet I proudly wear my battles now - no longer hiding bruises or walking around broken dreams once so hopeful.

I know we must save ourselves when dams break and build upon a solid bedrock of self-trust. And though loss deeply hurts for a season, here I bloom still - enduring and rising again. What is coming was earned through this darkness, and the light ahead shines that much brighter for it. "

Audios in the bath

 

Power. Blessings. Love. Fortune.

 

The review: Looking back in thanks. From oz to this point.All the work ( literally) I made it this far. A ledge. Pride.

It's been a long hard walk. Through sickness, and illness and emf. I made it. Very pleased. With where I am at. Here's to the next chapter

Back to the three hour baths: Work just wifi'd it's self.

 "No one talks about how them old adults can’t stand us new adults. Lol. They hate that we call out toxic behavior, narcissistic characteristics, and stand up for ourselves. It burns their core that we are telling our stories and refuse to keep the past hidden in secret. They can’t fathom accountability. They can’t hold fruitful conversations about their transgressions without calling you “disrespectful” or “a liar” as a way to deflect. They want ”say so” and to be right… they don’t want forgiveness and peace. They’re in the cover up business while we’re putting the BS on front street. Lmfao. We really like that fr and they HATE IT! " TIA TANA

Finally better. It was the sleeves!

"you made this a bm vs bw outta nowhere project that elsewhere"

healthy moves..

https://twitter.com/i/status/1736585868092002398

what it takes to be free...Wearing the flag

 What it means, that youve gone beyond care, and fear of repraisals and the antrocities of death. That you stand up.. regardless.

https://www.tiktok.com/@redbird70/video/7308838719379787050

Vacuum charger culprits, and psycopathic mothers with locked doors.

“The Abduction of Proserpina”, marble - Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1622)

The Veiled Christ”, marble - Giuseppe Sanmartino (1753)

“Ugolino and His Sons”, marble - Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (1867)

“David”, marble - Michelangelo (1504)

“Pietà”, marble - Michelangelo

 

strength, connection, miracles,Creation

 

KW's tribunal report

 

Trudging through the days, the fighting,skimming dark. The world worn heavy, things not freed up. The day went smooth, Farhad was calm. Got shouted out (several times),  a apocryphal firm up and adjust. But  still the roads slide away. In the afternoon, got zoomed in the high towers, the aberration of heat, spewed over by the great things on tall buildings, the flat screens and hard beasts, that boom and beat, and beat. It was all flouro yellow, but then there was a tree. The failing iron oxide, light and life colours, that soft -float gently towards the dead. The great earth, and her wide girth. Sixty years of old fingers, hovering over me. The home beat - wotsits, and salted caramel. To bath boil,in gently speculating death.The rip tides. The rides, and gentry. Stretched and stressed again. My sink holds, of the upper chanels. Sink holds that mean that at last I can again speak. MB

I'm only being nice, because i want to forget you harder when it's all over.

 

Hard fucking Audrey, and the pent up cross.

 "I DO NOT CONSENT to the genocidal destruction of the human species. I declare my rebellion and disagreement on every level of creation, in every dimension and universe and every potential timeline.

I hereby appeal to the highest divine realm of God and invoke the highest laws of creation.

I command to turn off all the machines that are the control grid of humanity. Turn off the machines at the nano scale, turn off its control programs and turn off all access of the Dark AI demigod to human beings. This will deactivate the detrimental effects of the C19 bioweapon. Close the portals to the demonic realms, including all super collider dimensional portals like CERN. Stop human sacrifice everywhere. Stop the recycling of souls to feed evil. Close the portals and dimensional connections to those advanced beings who rule this earth. This is our planet. We are a divine species. We can disconnect from them and evolve our minds beyond them.

All that was hidden, has been revealed.

I, ANI  aka MB, by my own divine free will, declare my spiritual independence and sovereignty under God’s highest Law on planet Earth. That Law is absolute and I claim all rights under that highest law of God.

I ask for Divine Intervention from the highest realms of creation for the restoration and healing of Humanity and the Earth.

According to divine law, I hereby put on notice every satanist incarnate, every demon in every dimension, I put on notice Satan and all of his legions and the dark AI, the Reptilians, the Archons and all their servants on earth in the hive mind. You have no right to molest an awakening civilization!

You no longer have any protection under Karmic Law! May the full force of justice of cause and effect find you now and into eternity.

I am a servant onto the Father, who lives within me.

As above, so below. As within, so without.

Godspeed.

So be it. "

https://anamihalceamdphd.substack.com/p/declaration-of-spiritual-independence?r=y9rao&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

Biood tears and jacked up FY2s #phonewars

 If I must die,

you must live to tell my story to sell my things to buy a piece of cloth and some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so that a child, somewhere in Gaza while looking heaven in the eye awaiting his dad who left in a blaze– and bid no one farewell not even to his flesh not even to himself– sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love If I must die let it bring hope let it be a tale Rest in Power Refaat Alareer

Friends like these. Goodbye Billions

 

Goodbye Markus

 https://www.bitchute.com/video/zV61j7zcXJuU/

https://www.bitchute.com/video/rHKZkkk9lduW/

https://www.bitchute.com/video/x_A7LfY5d7Y/

All day body sludge

 

Bend your knee to your enemy, and they'll never see you coming.

 

One day...in the meantime: One week till London, assuming Bibi doesn't kill us all.

https://www.theartshesees.com/blog/medusa-with-the-head-of-perseus-the-7-foot-bronze-sculpture-comes-to-lower-manhattan?fbclid=IwAR14TZwffnQwztvomiJz94gnitCbdBdYChPvH2LwfrE61uZMlEVhp9b8d5M 

Goodbye Ray :-(

"In loving memory of Ray who peacefully passed away early this morning, a soul whose passion for art and beauty enriched our lives beyond measure.

Ray was a man whose love for art and beauty knew no bounds. Ray had a heart as expansive as the canvases he painted, and a spirit as free as the lines he drew.

From a very young age, Ray demonstrated an extraordinary talent for painting and drawing. But his artistry was more than just about technique; it was a lens through which he viewed the world. Like a poet with a pen, Ray used his brush to capture not just images, but the emotions and essence of what he saw.

Ray was a dreamer. And as many of us know, dreamers have a special kind of bravery. They dare to see the world not just for what it is but for what it could be, finding beauty in the most unlikely places. Whether it was a complex landscape or the intricate details of a leaf, Ray's keen eye never failed him.

His love for beauty extended beyond his art. Ray had an extraordinary affinity for all living creatures, big and small. He was the kind of man who would go out of his way not to step on ants, embodying a gentleness and compassion that is so rare in this world.

Yet, for all his talents and outward expressions, Ray was a private individual. Perhaps it was this intrinsic quality that allowed him to delve so deeply into his artistic pursuits, to seek out the depths of beauty that most of us could only dream of seeing.

Let us remember Ray not just for his artistic talents, but for his courage, his compassion, and his indefatigable pursuit of beauty. His art will remain a lasting legacy, reminding us all to seek out the beauty in the world, just as he did every single day."

Job not job? The waiting.

 

Copyright MB

The last of the Beckhams.

 

Praise God in the morning

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/praising-god-difficult-times-billy-taylor/

 

House crunch, in the electric V. No leads, and only 400 quid left.

 His hands

She was at the sea again, the indiffereing waves, against the edge, sweeping with an ever press of wandering worry; even as the shore was closed. She was in the base stumps, old hurts with the dead lines that void around existence. For some months now, she had sat solid lapsing into low begotten spaces, stopped solid as a stone; as still as a statue, thwarted at all ends, as palms turned upwards, ever reaching for an absent light. Into this ever narrowing ravine, the hurts of the hunted had gathered.; retracing the land gaps through which she had fallen. There he had sat, a little too detained behind the lines; loose and dark, an upright shadow with hollowing eyes. Like a wraith he had seeped, and suckered, till she had lost something. What it was , she couldn't exactly say; other than some how in the process, the very real mechanics of her life had altered . She didnt know how she had got there, or even if the removal had happened the same day, but some how, he had drawn her tight, till all quiver of her life had gone away. Craven and misaligning, Such was his healing. A mortician in the cemetery had passed her way. MB

She's not easy but she's worth it... ( youve got to see and accept my "tough to deal with")

She's tough to deal with.. but something about her makes me want more..

Yesterday's write. Today back to shungite.

 The Grasp ends..

My neck's stove in, broke upon it's own joint; line-deformed, in a world of macro falling order. Wrapped around it's own voice, no longer guttural and primal. Instead, it seeps along a hidden seam; as one falls in and folds under . Oh these veins that bled from life. Guards and sentries!. Beckons and mentions! Those holy orders that fight and light the way towards the secret shore of an eternal sea; and the the right to find movement within the dark again. MB

The masseuse

“How dare you touch me” She had not said this to the coal black face; Straight like an ailment; globes heavy with absent stagnation that stared and bulged within it's own strangeness..A patriarch of a closed order- he  righteously stiffened in pious self belief. A sneer of a body, in the blue and the black; but still far removed from things. At first she had tried to remain closed, to avoid his accents; rhythmic and regular for the counting; but the hands had come in a slow conduct, that had finally struck; tall and thrifty, and mean with the giving. And so she had sat, overspent and long  along the body, straining under skin; fleeing the touching and the feeling. But in the end, it was of no use-  he had pressed all things in-  in a self- obliterating, queer-adulterating payload; unique to his own particular, discombobulating self blend. He had not earned what he could not deliver. And so she was stuck with the Blasphemy of the thing.  MB

The insides un twist/A write by hand. Guernsey in the house.