“Dad Likes Blondes”

I must have dropped Joel's stone somewhere in a Columbus Circle, or near Lincoln Center—not that it made any difference—Manhattan was Manhattan, and it was as if all of midtown had something to offer from my everlasting past-present-future, which seemed to crossover from one life to the next, between deaths and all the strange arrangements of interwoven time that happened in between, these instances drawing me to people, places and things I needed to know or see, something like a dream, but with remnices of reality—on this particular day the pain in my ankle from an ear get overworking just the day before—but I was relentless in my quest for the perfect body—or at least, a body that could be truly loved by a proper man, within proper time— of course— I was running out of time in the biological sense.

He was my favorite luminaire— a secret I kept even far from myself, as not to develop any attraction towards another man in another realm so far away, in some sort of fantasy that was so far fetched that it would only add to the chaotic and hellish existence I had seemingly always been trapped in. He was, without saying too smart and had awful habits—of course, to me, all the more attractive, in my somewhat adolescent sense that I liked them ‘bad', but I at least kept my own bad habits at bay in some sort of way — marking him as a master in my own inherent apprenciship; he had obtained knowledge and practice that I hadn't, and therefore was of course a defacto target in my edveador to understand this unmasked land— it had become more than a passion…

—Tales of A Superstar DJ

Lemon zest, the rush

The call of your name, for a run

The taste of your fingertips,

The brush of lust against the trees

Again, I call for you

I'm better off alone…

Oh,

I'm better off alone.

I'm better off alone,

Oh,

I'm better off alone

Just Leave Me

The only thing here

Is the kick getting through

I couldn't care anymore if I tried

I couldn't give a fuck if I wanted to

Just one more look at you,

I can't hold a candle!

No more worries,

And no more tear jerkers

(and No more hopeful romance,

For the ages)

No turning pages,

For pageants or princesses

Fit the agenda!

We're all steady aging,

Say, Sallie Mae

How many more payments

I'm just a slave,

It's just unpaid wages

A careful equivalent

No remorse or repent

I'm still soft and sacred

No regrets,

I'm so Shameless

Say, Sallie Mae

How many more payments?

Say, Sallie Mae

How many more payments?

A new writer's strike

But i'm still on a slaveship

Here's a soft punch:

Only kicks getting through here

I don't want to know,

How you even got through here

To do this

Hey, Sallie Mae

How many more payments?

Hey, Sallie Mae

How many more payments

Hey, Sallie Mae

Hey Sallie Mae

Hey Sallie Mae

I hate this.

*gunshot*

“Come for Supper,”

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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-U.