[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Today I found out that I never lost my mind at all.

I found pictures of my car the day I bought it

Not a dent, not a scratch; I found the pictures of the condition the apartment used to be in when I returned from work—I found the pictures with my friends that reminded me that I had once had them—pictures with my baby reminding me of how much I loved him and that I had cared for him well. I had almost believed my abuser's own accounts of what had happened to me over my own, because as it so seemed the world had chosen to side with him— but indeed, Google images had the entire story written for me from start to finish, and though each picture was well worth over one thousand words— the years had been documented well enough in photos to show that supacree was indeed a hero after all.

—and I missed her.

I straight up told you I control this robot bitch.

It was Frankincense, and not sage

And so all of a sudden

The trip to Manhattan

Became a field day

True colors are shown

Blue eyes have never been meaner, and I mean

It don't matter what you look like—

It's the inside that can't be trusted.

Said.

Don't make me lie to me

Like I could lie to you

Instead to calm a lover

Never half sought

But left upon the doorstep

If someone allowable,

Better yet,

Heretell exciting news

And distance captured

Further between us than there ever was

The mind that spoke,

The dusk that only choked on

Solomon, hart for words

Lie to a friend

And lie to the mother, a fraud

And a scandal

A cap and a gas can

Remember the cap?

How could you

So broke the only words once spoke on were mortar

No brick at all so the whole wall shattered

Kellogg for breakfast brands,

Spent seeing and scatterbrained,

You are now mine,

As time has fallen on to us,

For our lands had not been yourn at her tides

For nothing washed ashore but dollars

Dirty by the hands of hatred lasts, four score years,

Ride broke,

Sun lasts,

Leverage not, star bound

Hurt I none

Said disembarked, shadow,

Come now, dear shadowland

I am puppet master,

And also hang upon strings,

I Am.

Can somebody,

Anybody tell me why

Every time I see that poster

I almost start crying.

Not just a little—

But a lot.

Not so much an ugly cry,

But a mean cry—

As if I lost something—

And how I didn't mean for any of this to happen

But it did anyway,

And I still don't know all what for.

There must still be something left to write about him

Or something

Because

—someone tell me why—

Anybody at all

Tell me why

Even though I don't want to

I still see little pieces of that in everything

As if they belong to maybe like,

The pieces of me I lost, or something;

And tell me why

After like,

All these years or something

all of a sudden

[its]

So beautiful to me.

So goddamn beautiful-

That suddenly—

—I don't know why—

I don't see anything else.

Anybody?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

'kalypso'

Collection 2.1 'appearences'

Track 02. 'kalypso'

Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū

[Hurrying backstage and hunched over, off screen and out of sight of the audience, this man is clearly on the brink of a nervous breakdown.]

I'm gonna puke I'm gonna vomit.

Hey!

I'm gonna puke, I'm gonna vomit,

I'm gonna hurl.

Hey.

Oh God.

Are you okay?

He stiffens up, standing straight and regaining his composure almost immediately, as if nothing had happened.

Yeah. Everything's fine.

Are you sure?

You're crazy.

This is simple.

Okay.

It's not FAIR.

Nothing is FAIR.

All is fair in love and war!!

Well, this is neither— it's TV.

“Telephoto”

‘Teleform'

And

‘Telesynthesis'

Who here can explain the difference?

A girl leans over from slinking back in her desk to her classmate—they are both wearing sunglasses which seems odd, considering that they are obviously indoors; the lecture hall, as vast as it may be, can seem as such an intimate classroom—the students here have been studying as a class together here for so long that their familiarity with each other is much like that of a large family—however—very large; there are thousands of them, actually, in total, divided by sects into guilder chapters, designated by speciality and type, each having been given specific assignments, relegated by their gifts.

I have to tell you something.

Can it wait?

Probably.

—because she's going to pick on m—

Cecile.

Actually, it's—

(Sighing deflatedly)

(With sarcasm)

Glorious Agony.

She slinks back into her seat, slouching

See.

Your anticipation is distinguished.

…Thank you.

That was at worst a compliment and at best a suggestion to minimize and regulate your frequency as to remain undetectable, if not to be synchronized with the rest of your classmates—thoughtfully so.

Rather thoughtless, actually.

Well think of it— and speaking of such;

Telesynthesis:

Telesynthesis is to adapt one's functional vibration and frequency to match the commonly shared vibration at which the majority of conscious inhabitants in one's immediate field, environment, or space.

And—Teleform

To materialize within any given space the perception of a shared reality within one's given realm and or secondary dimension.

Good.

Thank you, Cecielle.

Actually, it's—

Now—

Moving along.

The teacher again begins to lecture, as the girl once again slowly begins to lean over towards cecil , still frustrated from her interaction with the professor.

Pssssst.

Are you serious?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

My breath is shallow,

My heart is lonely.

The poster shadow

Of many moons forshadoed.

Again, I lie awake, screaming,

Not calling

I'm screening your calls

You want ice cream with that,

Or what.

(Or what)

Probably or what, though

In a nutshell,

I don't want you

I thought your hollow bones

Could swallow us whole

To another,

Long, long gone

Summer.

Sure, the show goes on

—but it won't without you.

For sure,

The show goes on—

But it won't without you

Turn the phone on,

Turn it over

At the airport,

Watching Conan

Oh yeah,

A honey blonde,

Shucks.

Honeysuckle wants only

To become

Sweet, ripe salmon berry

(Don't you want to)

At the airport,

Watching conan

Overhead, I

Overheard a phone call

“What the fuck did you just say?”

It's been 3 days;

She went missing at MIA

No connection to jfk

No connection at all Munroe, you blind bastard

All the water

All the drugs

All in the wash

It's water under the toenails

(Four fingers up,

But the fourth one lost it)

At the airport

Watching Conan

I over heard you

Turn the phone off

Semi-sync or something,

Semi dysfunction

Chemists hemispheres

All his fears are

In my head

I stand at the front at the edge of the the platform so there's just less temptation to jump

(White Nikes is for chumps)

Everybody is a goddamn DJ these days

Especially on her bday

When she asks for a replay of that remix

Bitch please

I sit alone bc with my phone and my notebook.

By the end of a river

A cold brook

Wrote a whole mother novel

A classy story

For the world gone wrong

You fucking Morin

Fungi up I get more fond l

I stand in the train with my back against the wall

So the shadow markers won't stand behind

And grab me

Fuck man, fuck off

There's a lot of blue here

Must be something to do here

I need new gear

Stuck inside of my l life

Since new years

Whose here?

WHAT THE FUCK MORGIE?

SUNNI!

MORE HEINIKEN!!!!

You CANNOT. Drink with that ankle monitor on.

I know.

So why are you drinking?!

I took the ankle monitor off.

Nogga yo feet is small.

Like smaller than mine.

I been staring at your gut this whole train ride.

How the fuck are you like a 5x

And your feet are a ladies size 6?

The fuck.

You need some help, bro.

I ain't been to the gym in two days

But you got fairy feet

My nigga

My hip bone s apes against the railing;

I've three children, but you'd not know I;

I'm holding in cereal, cleaning out stuff for cereal boxes m,

Audio level

Aux chords polished

Shined as silver,

Hair as Golden,

Still no meadows,

My eyes rest in

My, I'm tired.

Please don't mind me,

Bright blue jumper

Still no meadow

I lay down in

Still no meadow

Hair as golden

Old blue boxers

Boxes

Please don't mind me

Oh, you started it

Oh, you started it

No motion sensors

Already alcoholic,

Still halls

And still water

Oh,

You started it

Oh. You started it

Sure, don't fall out of

Heroin antics,

Sure, don't fall forward,

Only to fall out

Oh. You started it

Damn! Why the devil always gotta stand behind a motherfucker, huh?

Fuckin creepo.

Haven't you decided yet that you are the devil.

I am one and all

And all things, I am

Still in my mind I am,

Never behind,

But always ahead

Always right, and not wit wars

I stand in line for the stairs

The slower the better the more I write

Imm on fast God

Fasting time

I'm on fully automatic

The faster we go

The harder the heroin

The longer we stop for

The harder we party

Off bandwagon

There I go—

(Are I now)

There you are?

Fully automotive

Fully automatic

Fully on the wrong road.

It matters hoping

No more tears for lost stardom

No more neon signs

No halter tops

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I don't have my phone off

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I take all my clothes off.

I couldn't even pretend to give two fucks right now

I'm chained to a train

With another one headed right towards me.

I don't mind what's the line your on

Whose line is it anyway, good line at the equinox

Step over me

Hoarder

I'll say,

Here for all time;

Wherefor art though

Simple and stuck

In my own ways

All day I sat in haides

No semtember

Sick morons

Long, long October

Still started

No water

Two dogs

And a blonde

No show starter.

But There goes all that

All the next understudies

And sure profiles,

Fair weather friends again

—creepy ass inanimate muppets.

Fuck, man.

Somebody stick their fuckin hand up Elmo's ass before I punch him.

Don't punch Elmo.

Who doesn't love Elmo.

I do not.

What did you say your name was?

I didn't.

What did you say is your expertise?

Rhythms.

Mister mister l

NOOOOOOOO.

Some black dude rubbed his whole dick against my wrist on the subway train.

gnarly.

It was warm.

And weird—

Like a fucking

Sleeping cat

Under Egyptian cotton

AGHHHHHHJ.

AOh no.

I THOUGHT MY HAND WENT PARALYZED.

It just siezed up, real crunchy, like—

*chicken foot arm*

I automatically had like the whole thing going on.

The worst part was that it was warm—

And soft//

But HUGE.

I was like

What ANIMAL is that.

I will never.

I could NEVER

I said.

what.

I just got to the point in my life where I realized I wasn't interested in anything.

!but especially

I'm looking for

Sage to burn

I goy money go burn

I got time to earn mi got money to chase

Ain't got money to waste

You've got to admit x

It's a good savings system

—for once, the sauce sounded like symphonies

And wreaked of green peppers, or rather, was fragrant

CHECKPOINT!

I remember this part!

I remember this place

This time

This dance

This song,

Then— everyone does

And everything does, doesn't it?

Show ants the advocate

The advocate of another time

I think I ran here on

What if everything cheaper online

But it's just the adventure you wished for

Have you ever tried to be mad

With squeaky ass shoes on

Seriously

Have you ever tied to like walk away

Or stop away mad

With squeaky ass shoes?

Is that the pub?

I guess.

You guess! Is this the right pub or is it not?

I don't know which pub is the right pub! He just said “Irish pub” you could throw a rock and hit one!

Sometimes it's best,

To just not give

A single fuck at all

At all at all

A single fuck at all.

I don't give a flipping song!

Woah now

i don't give a flap or a stick!

Alright, alright.

Leave me alone to die

I'll melt inside the world

A coin upon a string

Run, girl, run

Of course, of course

It lives again

It'll come again

When the Sunnis down.

I can't wait till the sundown

I can't wait till the world is kind

And the girls are gone

And the birds all hush

And the dogs don't bark

And the sun downt come

Till I'm long long gone and out of it

I'm over her, no more war and art over sodom

And stardom as startuduat

Like I said, you started it

I always did

I didn't want

I only done

To suffer

Suffer more

Will you rot you blossom corpse

The art is done

The art is done!

The water's hot

No wonder white people fucking hate us.

I saw a black dude on the train. Today with his dick in his pocket.

NO, GOD.

WHY!

And he was holding it, too.

I'm like

“What for?!”

Jesus Christ's.

It was in his pocket.

Outlined and everything,

With his fucking grip around it

Like it was a fucking animal.

No!

No!

Man some people are so fuckin wrong

I hate pda.

I fuckin hate it.

The Real versions come across a parallel reality's version of themselves—who by some chance, also happened to cross paths with each other—however—this band of miscreants are HOOLIGANS—unruly lawbreakers who cause chaos, confusion, and trouble to the good people of

Where the fuck is this.

—wherever they are.

Don't come round here!

I will fuck your socks off— and sell them back to you!

The sex was free;

But the socks will cost you.

But—they're my socks.

Were and could be again…for a price.

Goddamn.

Yes, Goddamn indeed.

BROH.

JOHN OLIVER IS MAD BRITISH.

AVADAKAVARAH!

I TOLD YOU, I WAS A WITCH DOCTOR!

WHATEVER! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A LATE NIGHT HOST!

EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB.

THAT'S A NIGHT JOB!

EXPECTO-PA–

POTTER!!!

WHAT IN THE [BEEP}! YOU'RE A WIZARD?!

OF COURSE I'M A BLOODY WIZARD–WHAT THE HELL DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU?!

ANOTHER LATE NIGHT HOST–OR WHATEVER!

“OR WHATEVER” I'M A WIZARD–

HARRY.

What the [bleep]

EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB

™

Please, by all means,

Keep your pretty white girlfriend.

I want to see those eyes come through

What a handsome couple.

They are the scariest thing ever.

Let them be, then;

Out to be fun to watch.

I can't listen to Drake on my loud speakers bro.

Not—like loud, man.

That shit makes me feel like a whole ass basic black girl.

True story.

Sometimes you gotta distance yourself from the “yassss” birds.

I saw this one comedian performing—

Well, I think he was a comedian.

He wasn't funny to me but,

He had like 710K followers

And he was really really pretty.

I had to notice that, because as imm listening to him preform, about 30 minutes into the video—

I was waiting to see if he would make me actually laugh—

He didn't—

But—

As I was trying to figure out how he has 710K followers

And has not made me laugh, not once

I start paying closer attention to him—

And I realize;

“Oh”

He is major good looking.

At first I didn't notice—

I like white guys— so,

Of course,

At first glance

I'm like

“Hey brother!”

You know, like

“That's my son!”

I'm like

“Yeah, make me laugh, boy.”

But he didn't

And then as I start to wonder

Like,

Why or how he has so large of a following

I notice he's very beautiful.

And I mean, like mad gorgeous.

Like ideally—

I'm like

“Oh” and as I'm realizing this,

He's saying the punchline to a “joke,”

And as he's saying it, I realize that way in the back,

Like you can hear that they're in the back

Cause the camera is in the center,

And like half of the audience is behind the film crew

, and you can hear these girls are in the way—

Like in the way back

Like in the way, way back,

You can hear like a pack of ratchets—

Yes— these must be his die hards—

His squad.

Not like his homies or anything, but like

The Groupies.

You know.

The hopefuls.

He's got this group of black girls like hackling in the back, like clapping hard at all his punches like

“YAS!”

“SAY IT!”

And it was funny because his reaction to these girls was like

“I'm—not in control of this.”

“RIGHT!”

“SAY LESS!”

I'm like,

Oh, I see how that works, now.

{Enter The Multiverse}

And even I

Just want it to fucking stop

So it can just be over with

Oh why,

Not another fucking lover boy

After all of them

Oh no—

But this one's worse;

Maybe even the worst of all of them

Because as I exit my prison cell,

I find this dude behind bars—

Maybe even happily.

And now I'm out into the world

Supposedly free—

But still trapped with this mentality

As if whatever I had before—

Maybe even possibly the worst, lowest existence

At least for me,

Was somehow

Better

—can anyone tell me why?

Not even God, besides the obvious point that perhaps

The Devil is in the mind;

He likes to arouse,

To play games,

And tricks

And I,

Myself

Perhaps

Have fallen prey,

Not to become victim to this;

But a player in the game.

A pawn.

AND WHY HAS NOBODY DRAWN ON THESE YET,

THEY'VE BEEN UP FOR SEEMINGLY

forever and always

And this nigga has

Not one snaggletooth

No graffiti tettoos

No fucking sharpie lip injections.

Nothing.

Do you remember that story how Johnny Depp hated his face up on a billboard—

So he went rogue and painted over it?

Yeah? So?

What if it's like that.

I don't think it's like that.

—I think it's the opposite of that, actually.

And if anything—

If I see not a one defacing of these posters

And they are everywhere

If anything,

Jimmy Fallon is the guy

With a spray bottle of acetone

And a fucking microfiber rag

Wiping that shit off

In his free time

WHAT FREE TIME?

You tell me.

But first—

Somebody—

Anybody tell me

Why this happened.

At all.

Anybody?

Somebody.

C'mon.

{Enter The Multiverse}

If you'll excuse me, I actually have to get going.

Where are you going?

I don't know:

I just—

JOHNNY DEPP must be going.

Have to.

he does not know, however, that he is stuck in a movie—which has no definitive ending.

Well actually,

This movie has like—

30 alternative endings

Wait, 30 alternative endings?

30-40

Woah.

That's nuts.

Which makes it even cooler.

If you ever blow my mind again like that,

I'll actually kill you.

I've been watching a lot of LMN

Lifetime movie network—Why?!

Because this shit is hilarious!

Isn't it!

YO. This shit is PIZZA

It IS.

What? Why is it pizza?

Cause it's not pizza If it's not CHEEZY.

ahaha.

While traditional Thai pineapple fried rice has tomatoes within the vegetable medley, I opted instead for this recipe to use a sauced red pepper tomato sauce glaze to top the dish, for a new school American twist and flare.

½ cup chopped mushrooms

½ cup scallions

¼ cup white onion

½ cup red onion

¼ cup Pasilla pepper

½ cup red pepper cup white onions

½ cup yellow pepper

¾ cup green pepper

1 cup fresh basil

1 cup fresh pineapple

UmBRIDGE.

What.

NO, Um—

A bridge appears out of nowhere.

lol why do you have no hair?

I dunno; mate.

Wizards.

Don't go there—

You're fired.

I beg your pardon

Please, don't beg. You are officially decommissioned as headmaster!

This is the minister of magic

Is that what it was.

I guess, I don't know; I'm just along for the

STEWIE.

WHAT MA, WHAT.

TEN AND TWO!!

You know what, let me drive.

Oh, finally—stewie has his own aplorable Boston accent, (hybrid proper English, of course. )

What does that even sound like

Strange.

The lady working at Trader Joe's was so beautiful to me, I had to tell her.

I loved her Locs, I loved her glasses

I loved her accent.

So I just had to ask where she's from—

I do that sometimes.

If I really love someone's accent,

I have to ask where their from to try to get there one day;

So I asked her,

“Where are you from?”

And she says

“Haiti,”

And I was like

“Wow, cool”

And then I thought about it for a second,

And I asked

“Do you ever miss home”

And she just laughed

I was like

“Oh, guess not”

Some context

I had been homesick lately,

But I grew up in Alaska

And I consider myself from California,

Having spent most of my adult life there

So coming to New York has been like

Living on the other side of the world;

And sometimes that sucks.

But sometimes, and I have realized that wherever you're from,

To get to New York is sometimes a blessing.

She didn't even say yes or no,

She just laughed.

Now I'm worried about Haiti.

I was worried about it before;

But now I'm like;

“Do you miss home?”

She's like

“Hahaha”

I'm like

“Oh damn.”

I count my blessings.

So JOHNNY DEPP just like excuses himself, wanders out into the street, and then—?

Yeah.

And then what?

I don't know yet, I'm kind of busy these days.

“BUSY?!”

BUSY DOING WHAT?!

Beep boop.

Eee—ooh.

Beep—boop—boop.

Yah-yah-yah—

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

I'll show you all my scars, huh

This one, she look like the reaper

That's my girl,

You bet she a keeper

Ya'll sleepin on us

What

Yeah

What

Yeah

What

You sleeping on us

I been in this b'niss

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

It's not a bad song.

Is it a song?

Is it?

idk

I just like balls in my face, is all.

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

[A Classic red dodgeball beams

Who is it?

WILL FERREL

Is that how you spell it?

Why will Ferrel?

Cause I Want it TO

MAKE ME LAUGH.

HOW.

JUST DO IT.

Oh. I get it: So my pain is funny to you?

[FINE, IT'S SOMEONE ELSE]

Oh shit, that guy did look just like Will Ferrel, but OLD.

He's old now, ain't he?

Wasn't he always?

[FINE]

CUT.

I QUIT.

CUT TO:

You and I, sir, have a longstanding arrangement.

Would it be more comfortable to–sit?

Yikes.

(Whatever, we'll work on it.)

[The Festiva–

{Enter The Multiverse}

I need a toothbrush to scrub my brain.

I'm

The lilly of the valley

In the

Belly of the beast

I been swallowed by a whale

I'm a whole damn story

Woah

I am the Lilly of the the valley

I am the rider of the horse

I am seeker of truth

Writer of lines

Sayer of lies

(I might say a lie;

But I just won't tell it)

What is your deal with the devil.

She knows I have a deal with ‘em.

Well, the truth is—

I have to turn ya!

He's a good old country boy—

From the simple south—

A simple soul

And they all believed him,

word for word

“I's born in New York”

—he sounded assured.

Gone, now, boy

Go crack dat corn.

Gone down south

Go crack dat corn

Gone, ol boy

Go crack dat corn m

—got no soul?

Go crack dat corn.

Aaaaghhh.

I have a headache.

why the fuck are you freaking out?!

Because I don't know what I wrote.

I must admit,

There are things

Where there should be no things

There are springs

Where there should be no springs

There are strings

Where there should be no strings

And imm quite sure

With no rules enforced

—it's just a static cling

Sort of thing

OWW, my EYES.

Nobody should have this much power.

Nobody does.

I don't get it.

(I still don't understand why this happened.)

He must have perfect genetics.

Or something.

THIS FOOL IS FIXING ME UP TO DIE!!!!!

I AM THECRISCO QUEEN

DIRTY NOT CLEAN

WHAT CAN I SAY

I LIKE

GREASE

MONEY EVERYDAY

BANKROLL

INCREASE

DEEP FRY HIGH

SUNNI BLŪ

Yo

VO.

Ok— so sometimes things go shitty.

Like, mad shitty.

YOOOOO.

My measurements are 34C, 24 waist, and 55 in height.

I couldn't understand why a girl this perfect should have to be selling sex at all,

But I supposed nowadays, all women were prostitutes in some sort of way.

This one's 22 years old and 96 pounds

Men are sick fucking creatures.

Whose fucking child is this?!

COME GET YOUR DAUGHTER.

Although, you know—I get it.

My mom bought a Mercedes in cash

And I'm still in educational debt.

I just now today realized.

That could have been a college fund.

But she wanted a Mercedes.

It's okay that I'm a bit fucked up in the head.

Something went terribly wrong.

All and all,

Myself and this perfect girl,

Cost around the same

For an entire night—

But hey,

I think she's low balling herself

On the 24 hour special.

That's an entire day of my time,

That's at least 10K.

‍♀️

She has a perfect body and two eyes that are different colors,

But I'm a literary genius.

You don't need words to soothe your boner thiugh,

Or show off at a black tie function, do you?

A stroll on the red carpet,

Or some opulent fucking

5-star charade.

How much does she cost, I wonder?

She says,

“I also accept bitcoin, etherum, gold and silver.”

On God,

These fake lip hoes is robbin' niggas.

Men are sick creatures though.

“Here's my gold watch”

Fucking gross.

I cruise escort sites for entertainment,

Having learned my value as a woman isn't the visual,

Visceral thing men are usually looking for—

No judgement,

Because I've realized that if I too had a perfect body.

I myself would be living in some kind of oppulent, prostitution fuck-hole,

With everybody else in my generation,

That didn't get married—

And then, probably divorced.

I realized a long time ago that this was the reason my mother

Always hated my body more than I ever could have— which is fine,

Because eventually I inherited this hatred.

I could have eventually grown out of it—

But she couldn't see that.

I was a “nasty fat heifer”

On her worst days,

And now,

Even on my best days—

I still am.

Nevermind that eventually my ex husband would

Think of my hair as nappy, or

That I actually did end up kind of sort of growing out of being

A fat, nasty heifer—

Kind of.

But the fact that it's taken me the entirety of my life to realize my worth as a woman

Would always be defined by that

Of what a man idealized as

“Worthy”

Well,

That in itself

Gives me the dismissive ability

To have days where I do nothing,

But sit back,

Cruising escort sites and shipping on Amazon for yoga mats,

Wanting the experience of the world

Without really being beautiful enough for it

And waiting to fade

Into the next lifetime.

[All the black girls cost less

Because they have to.]

Men are sick creatures.

They'll take a butterface,

Ugly ass white girl

Over a pretty one that's dark skinned

And these are just

The facts of life

(So far.)

Piper of Phoenix

Valiant, bold, and brazen

This woman, I love—

In the wings for fortune,

To honor, I love

With wisdom,

And aged like fine wine

We all become

I want body like Sofia

But never met the real Rebecca.

Yo.

YO.

Let's spend $60 o lip gloss.

Okay.

Hey.

Ways crackin.

I just bought a $12,000 mattress.

Let's take a nap in it.

Hey girl.

Heeeeeeey.

This yoga mat cost $200.

That's fresh.

You think THATS RICH?!

Seems pretty rich to me.

You can't get any of this stuff on Amazon.

That's fucking psycho.

These loafers?

Uh uh.

$2,000.

For WAT.

(Whispers)

Eeel skiiiin.

Gross!

I'm HUNGRY

Got grits,

Ain't got no sugar.

No butter—

—ain't hurt nobody.

Poverty is a whole damn show.

Close the door

On a broke ass bitch.

Poverty is a whole damn story.

Got no bucks for the Whole Foods market

Shopping carts full of old ass garbage

No reward

For a woke ass artist

I'm HUNGRY.

I killed myself 3 times his morning.

POOR SNOOP is still a whole ass G

BET ON IT HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL RAP COVER -$15

BROKE WAYNE AINT HAVING IT

CHRIS ROCK THE METRO TRAIN DRIVER is NOT FUNNY—

(He's still a ladies man though.)

LCD SYSTEM

HOOGLI BOOGLI is the reason they fear us.

HOOGLI BOOGLI IS THE BLACKEST BLACK THAT EVER BLACKED.

UNLIKE NIGGLY NIGGA—he is NOT FRIENDLY.

He is the stuff of nightmares.

A world gone wrong.

Two bloodshot eyes on a black backdrop

Dark black.

I sold not state at screen

They go uno in te night

This shit doesn't make much sense,

Does it?

Doesn't

Matter

Antimatter.

Ow.

How far is antimatter from antithesis?

Is this just a Christmas present

Never said it, same diff

Something something something

SHUT UP.

So to re-iterate—

Uh huh.

Niggly Nigga is friendly…

Yeah, he's just—

—he just looks like that.

AH.

What happened.

Don't stand behind me like that, my nigga.

Srry.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Okay, that'll work.

#timetravelingdjs

Enough with these weak dick pussy motherfuckers..

I still got 30 minutes in my cycle routine!

Here you come with your pussy ass punches;

AIGH.

OOOOOH.

Come on, put some weight in them shits!

Pretend it's my face.

Damn. I lost fat Jimmy Fallon.

How'd you lose him?! He's hard to lose!

And slow!

Damn!

THE SUPER FAT JIMMY FALLON is trying to slim down; he munches on a chocolate chewy bar (read: eats it in two biles and grips the wrapper anxiously.)

Imm a whole ass nigga

Come try take me out my head

I got corn in the fridge

I got bread

I got money to spend

On you

(On you$

On you

I got money to spend

On you I

I gotta go

What happened

Jew stuff.

Ah yes.

I remember now.

Yeah, that's a Jew.

Rabbi?!

Shh! Shut up!

But—

Shut up!

Yo. Bama.

BARAK OBAMA

I told you, don't call me that.

Sorry—listen, Barak.

President—

President Obama.

[beat]

…yes?

Look, I need a favor.

You still owe me one.

Put it on my tab. Listen, this is importsnt!

-_-

I think I control my neighbors.

Yikes.

For real. I think they move based on when I move.

Seems like it.

You're right! It seems like it.

I was agreeing with you.

BROH.

They got planted baby bell cheeses!

THEYGOTPLANTBASEDBABYBELLCHEESES

I kinda wanna see if Dillon Francis is a dad yet .

I'm tryna see like a tiny version of this.

Of what.

Don't change a thing.

I would also like tiny versions of this,

This,

And this—

Please.

Ok.

And this.

Are you sure!?

Yes.

JACK BLACK

don't you ever do that to me AGAIN!

What! I didn't do anything to you!

What?

No!

You didn't? Why not?

What.

What the Fox News! Do you have like an exclusive contract with Fallon, or something?

No, that's NBC.

I really can't talk about it right now, Jack.

Hey hey-/ since when are we on a first name basis?

You know what— you're right—

I know it,

Excuse me, Mr. Black—

I ought to be going.

going where?! You have to get me back to my original dimension!

You don't have an original dimension!

What! Why not,

The fourth wall has been broken, very broken.

And 2.

What's the second point?

You shouldn't have taken that acid.

What acid?! Which time?!

Exactly!

Goddammit!

don't look at me, God made this playlist.

“Jew stuff”

Ever since I inducted Jack black and Alex Baldwin into the impenatrable ten

Ah—ahem

Nobody “inducted us”

There's no induction.

We were just always

—always.

Here.

HOOGLI BOOGLI.

Huh.

DID YOU JACK MY RIMS?

Nah man, wasn't me.

[the rims are sloppily hidden under a potato sack “hidden” obviously in the corner.

Hehe.

NIGGLY NIGGA spots his rims in the corner.

Musical torture.

HOOGLI, THESE ARE MY RIMS.

I don't know how those got there, man, shiet!

Nigga!

What!

HOOGLI BOOGLI

YOU BLACK ASS NIGGA

DONT—COME AROUND MY HOUSE NO MORE

LOL HOW DO NIGGLY NIGGA AND HOOGLI BOOGLI SHARE A HOOD?

Cause it beez like that sometimes.

God damn—

He's so fine to me!

God damn,

He ages like wine!

Goddamn

Goddamn!

I turn the time;

Damn,

Goddamn—

Let's turn back time

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Damn. I really want to know if Dillon Francis has offspring yet.

NO! Don't touch it!

…it's—just a baby.

You don't know! He could be dangerous!

It's a baby!

It's a multidimentional extraterrestrial mystic

—baby—

—baby! Exactly! Don't make me list the reason why and how this child should not be TOUCHED or tampered with.

[the tiny Dillon Francis begins to cry]

*gasp*

*double gasps*

*welling up*

Oh, come on!

No! Dont touch him!

Did you find your prostitute yet?

She's not a prostitute, it's a—

Well this dimension's definition of a—

Sandwhich?

Don't mind if I do.

*takes bite of sandwhich*

…

Hm???

Oh my GOD.

EhYess…

What is ON THIS?

EhWhy would you take a bite of—

TINA FEY?!

Oh god, here it comes.

TINA FEY! TINA FEY

WHAT, FANGIRL. What?!

I need to ask you something.

Okay, but make it quick. I'm about to enjoy this sandwhich.

Wait/m—

No more waiting, actually. It's a hot sandwhich.

Ew…

You're ew!

—a sandwhich without knowing what's in it.

THE HOOLIGANS have tied what appears to be an innocent man to the train tracks— THE

what did I call them again?

The real versions

Aren't they all real?

Kind of.

This isn't real.

I agree.

THE HOOLIGANS ARE SQUATTERS.

EW.

Right.

Ey! Ey! Put him back in the jar!

Why do you have a little man in a jar?!

I'm saving it for something.

Okay, so here's the thing about bass music

Uh huh, I'm listening

With dubstep,

The wubz and the subs

Hit with the kick, almost always—

Which is why it sounds confusing, and weird

But that's what makes it interesting;

The trick is,

Mixing these kicks and the wubs

At different frequencies

So you can hear both of them

Clearly.

Ohhhhhhhhh…

Yeah.

I see.

Uh huh.

I don't know how to do that.

MEANWHILE:

DAMN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE MAYA RUDOLPH?!

THERES NO SUCH THING AS A FREE GIFTCARD!

I TOLD YOU, I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT.

It seemed almost fake—

And probably was, for whatever reason,

But the simple reminder

That comedy

Sometimes first begins as tragedy

Came back to me

When i saw a man in Manhattan

Try to hail a taxi—

And they just kept passing him by;

Finally one stopped,

And with relief,

The guy says—

“Finally, Jesus Christ!”

Or something like that,

And then as he goes to catch the taxi,

It just speeds off,

And he like,

Threw a fit of rage as the walk sign turned on

And the crowd of people I was walking with

All just kind of

Laughed.

That was funny.

That guy could be having the worst day ever—

But God, that shit was hilarious.

My superintendent is fucking weird and gross to me.

Is he smoking in his car?

Is that thy the alarm goes off every few minutes?

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Welcome to Funland

I'm in the depths

The chambers

—the ritual.

Damn! What is his pre show ritual?!

I don't know.

I don't want to know.

well, someone ought to.

A long nap.

Aws.

Then a short nap.

…okay.

Peanut butter jelly sandwhich.

That seems normal.

12 of them.

Oh.

What.

Damn.

That's like 6 loaves of bread.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

These terrorists are mad desperate;

A demon is a demon—

But a weak, feeble-minded brainwashed terrorist is another thing: just that.

[domestic terrorism and acts of sociopolitical psychological tactical practices by and against American citizens.]

The only satisfaction in knowing how right I was, became choosing not to directly address them anymore as they were— ignorant, insolent babies throwing temper tantrums—

It seemed altogether in the same system were the motorcyclists and the door slammers, as if some sort of strategy against free thought and the right to truth.

The actual truth of the matter was, that I was also in them—whether or not they had the conscience to know.

Be mad; I am.

Maybe now in coming times you will understand

How cruel it feels to be hated,

For just existing.

Fragility

Something ‘about' me bothers you so deeply—

And you ‘don't know' what;

But I'll tell you what it is…

Later.

For now,

I'll just enjoy soaking in your rage —

How wrong you feel I am

For being right.

And how right I am—

That this is wrong.

{Enter The Multiverse}

“Billie's Bong”

The poor Billie Ellish has a neon bong.

Woah! You have a bong!

Yeah.

That's sick.

Do you not—smoke?

No. Wait. Do you not—like, sing?

Nah, yeah— I'm in like, a band, but—

But what about your vocals?

We play punk!

Nice.

[A CHARACTER walks in, and is astounded to see the two practically identical Billies.]

Who though?

Doesn't matter.

I don't get it. Which one is which?

They both shrug.

The poor Billie Ellish and the regular Billie Ellish have almost everything in common besides money— being that, “broke Billie” comes from a stereotypically dysfunctional family, and a broken home, and has lived a majority of her life in poverty—besides of course—Finneas at least having once served as the lead guitarist of her band, before dropping off.

Wait, what did happen to your Finneas?

Ah, My Finneas? Forget about it. That dude is a skag.

My breath is shallow,

My heart is lonely.

The poster shadow

Of many moons forshadoed.

Again, I lie awake, screaming,

Not calling

I'm screening your calls

You want ice cream with that,

Or what.

(Or what)

Probably or what, though

In a nutshell,

I don't want you

I thought your hollow bones

Could swallow us whole

To another,

Long, long gone

Summer.

Sure, the show goes on

—but it won't without you.

For sure,

The show goes on—

But it won't without you

Turn the phone on,

Turn it over

At the airport,

Watching Conan

Oh yeah,

A honey blonde,

Shucks.

Honeysuckle wants only

To become

Sweet, ripe salmon berry

(Don't you want to)

At the airport,

Watching conan

Overhead, I

Overheard a phone call

“What the fuck did you just say?”

It's been 3 days;

She went missing at MIA

No connection to jfk

No connection at all Munroe, you blind bastard

All the water

All the drugs

All in the wash

It's water under the toenails

(Four fingers up,

But the fourth one lost it)

At the airport

Watching Conan

I over heard you

Turn the phone off

Semi-sync or something,

Semi dysfunction

Chemists hemispheres

All his fears are

In my head

I stand at the front at the edge of the the platform so there's just less temptation to jump

(White Nikes is for chumps)

Everybody is a goddamn DJ these days

Especially on her bday

When she asks for a replay of that remix

Bitch please

I sit alone bc with my phone and my notebook.

By the end of a river

A cold brook

Wrote a whole mother novel

A classy story

For the world gone wrong

You fucking Morin

Fungi up I get more fond l

I stand in the train with my back against the wall

So the shadow markers won't stand behind

And grab me

Fuck man, fuck off

There's a lot of blue here

Must be something to do here

I need new gear

Stuck inside of my l life

Since new years

Whose here?

WHAT THE FUCK MORGIE?

SUNNI!

MORE HEINIKEN!!!!

You CANNOT. Drink with that ankle monitor on.

I know.

So why are you drinking?!

I took the ankle monitor off.

Nogga yo feet is small.

Like smaller than mine.

EY.

I been staring at your gut this whole train ride.

How the fuck are you like a 5X

And your feet are a ladies size 6?

The fuck.

You need some help, bro.

I ain't been to the gym in two days

But you got fairy feet

My nigga.

My hip bones apes against the railing;

I've three children, but you'd not know It;

I'm holding in cereal, cleaning out stuff for cereal boxes ,

Audio level

Aux chords polished

Shined as silver,

Hair as Golden,

Still no meadows,

My eyes rest in

My, I'm tired.

Please don't mind me,

Bright blue jumper

Still no meadow

I lay down in

Still no meadow

Hair as golden

Old blue boxers

Boxes

Please don't mind me

Oh, you started it

Oh, you started it

No motion sensors

Already alcoholic,

Still halls

And still water

Oh,

You started it

Oh. You started it

Sure, don't fall out of

Heroin antics,

Sure, don't fall forward,

Only to fall out

Oh. You started it

Damn! Why the devil always gotta stand behind a motherfucker, huh?

Fuckin creepo.

Haven't you decided yet that you are the devil.

I am one and all

And all things, I am

Still in my mind I am,

Never behind,

But always ahead

Always right, and not wit wars

I stand in line for the stairs

The slower the better the more I write

I'm on fast God

Fasting time

I'm on fully automatic

The faster we go

The harder the heroin

The longer we stop for

The harder we party

Off bandwagon

There I go—

(Are I now)

There you are?

Fully automotive

Fully automatic

Fully on the wrong road.

It metr's hoping

No more tears for lost stardom

No more neon signs

No halter tops

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I don't have my phone off

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I take all my clothes off.

I couldn't even pretend to give two fucks right now

I'm chained to a train

With another one headed right towards me.

I don't mind what's the line your on

Whose line is it anyway, good line at the equinox

Step over me

Hoarder

I'll say,

Here for all time;

Wherefor art though

Simple and stuck

In my own ways

All day I sat in haides

No semtember

Sick morons

Long, long October

Still started

No water

Two dogs

And a blonde

No show starter.

But There goes all that

All the next understudies

And sure profiles,

Fair weather friends again

—creepy ass inanimate muppets.

Fuck, man.

Somebody stick their fuckin hand up Elm/ ass before I punch him.

Don't punch Elmo.

Who doesn't love Elmo.

I do not,

What did you say your name was?

I didn't.

What did you say is your expertise?

Rhythms.

Mister mister l

NOOOOOOOO.

Some black dude rubbed his whole dick against my wrist on the subway train.

gnarly.

It was warm.

And weird—

Like a fucking

Sleeping cat

Under Egyptian cotton

AGHHHHHHJ.

AOh no.

I THOUGHT MY HAND WENT PARALYZED.

It just siezed up, real crunchy, like—

*chicken foot arm*

I automatically had like the whole thing going on.

The worst part was that it was warm—

And soft//

But HUGE.

I was like

What ANIMAL is that.

I will never.

I could NEVER

I said.

what.

I just got to the point in my life where I realized I wasn't interested in anything.

!but especially

I'm looking for

Sage to burn

I goy money go burn

I got time to earn mi got money to chase

Ain't got money to waste

You've got to admit x

It's a good savings system

—for once, the sauce sounded like symphonies

And wreaked of green peppers, or rather, was fragrant

CHECKPOINT!

I remember this part!

I remember this place

This time

This dance

This song,

Then— everyone does

And everything does, doesn't it?

Show ants the advocate

The advocate of another time

I think I ran here on

What if everything cheaper online

But it's just the adventure you wished for

Have you ever tried to be mad

With squeaky ass shoes on

Seriously

Have you ever tied to like walk away

Or stop away mad

With squeaky ass shoes?

Is that the pub?

I guess.

You guess! Is this the right pub or is it not?

I don't know which pub is the right pub! He just said “Irish pub” you could throw a rock and hit one!

Sometimes it's best,

To just not give

A single fuck at all

At all at all

A single fuck at all.

I don't give a flipping song!

Woah now

i don't give a flap or a stick!

Alright, alright.

Leave me alone to die

I'll melt inside the world

A coin upon a string

Run, girl, run

Of course, of course

It lives again

It'll come again

When the Sunnis down.

I can't wait till the sundown

I can't wait till the world is kind

And the girls are gone

And the birds all hush

And the dogs don't bark

And the sun downt come

Till I'm long long gone and out of it

I'm over her, no more war and art over sodom

And stardom as startuduat

Like I said, you started it

I always did

I didn't want

I only done

To suffer

Suffer more

Will you rot you blossom corpse

The art is done

The art is done!

The water's hot

No wonder white people fucking hate us.

I saw a black dude on the train. Today with his dick in his pocket.

NO, GOD.

WHY!

And he was holding it, too.

I'm like

“What for?!”

Jesus Christ's.

It was in his pocket.

Outlined and everything,

With his fucking grip around it

Like it was a fucking animal.

No!

No!

Man some people are so fuckin wrong

I hate pda.

I fuckin hate it.

The Real versions come across a parallel reality's version of themselves—who by some chance, also happened to cross paths with each other—however—this band of miscreants are HOOLIGANS—unruly lawbreakers who cause chaos, confusion, and trouble to the good people of

Where the fuck is this.

—wherever they are.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Want the dakota and I got it

Fanning

I deflated I'm like Peyton

Manning

Previously on

{Enter The Multiverse}

Season 6

DRAKE BELL enters DTLA smokeshop.

NICK

You know who that is, right?

Before:

Tell me she remembers

High possibility she doesn't remember anything at all.

Great.

Also. A high chance—

That she remembers everything.

Oh!

Like all of it.

Even worse.

That might be worse—

—it might be better.

But it isn't,

Either way! We lose!

Great.

Good luck, Timmy!

Who the fuck is Timmy?

You are!

What!

Good luck.

So he enters and exits—

In two entirely seperate dimensions!

Not even parallels.

Not even close.

In fact,

Once he enters,

The world he leaves behind is forever gone.

Forever gone?!

Woah! Woah!

Except those other guys from Nickelodeon,

Because they have a Time Machine.

Wooh,

Phew.

That's good.

Yes it is.

Wait—we have a Time Machine?

Yes.

That's good.

Wher

THE FOXXXYBOXXX arrives.

“the Foxy Box?!”

No, the Foxxxy Boxxx

What—

What are you dickbags staring at.

Nothing.

Goddamn!

Shut up!

That is the sexiest Time Machine I've ever seen!

Have you ever seen a Time Machine at all, before this?

I—I don't know what I've seen before this.

Whatever.

I like your box.

Shut up.

I like your box, too…

Shut up. Get in.

Where are we going?

I don't even care.

To Wonderland!

{Enter The Multiverse}

The first one might not fly, but the second one's for sure a hit.

I found out there was wax on my apples today for the first time, and I thought “well, that's gross.

Counting cards, are we?

Another writing assignment.

They're all writing assignments…

You were dead once—

—or I will be soon. Your choice.

(Up to you)

It's always my choice.

You don't have acknowledge us as ‘ghosts'

It's just that—

We are what we are.

To speak without speaking

To know without knowing

Cut ties with it all—

With it at all?

It could be worth it,

If the salamander ever speaks again?

Well, you are alive, aren't you?

Only at the wishing well.

—last I checked, in chains I was.

I wish I were a rockstar.

Consider it granted, unless—

Unless, what?

You'd rather yourself a comedian.

Why would I want that?

Why wouldn't you?

I went full screen for Whoopi Goldberg but absolutely died

At gene wilder.

You'd better not.

How dare you, Severus?

Why would you write something like this?

But—why wouldn't I?

I wonder if there's anything I can do to get rid of this wax—

And then I thought,

“Maybe I should just peel them”

Then I thought,

“Wax on Apples—

Well that's un-apple-eal-ing”

I was

Wait, hold that thought

It was a joke my was a joke that practically wrote itself, cause it's not a fucking joke, it's true.

I could see it, but not hear it

The words, music,

The art, animated

My fasting eyes were wise with time

And love forever

As if I am,

As if I was —

At once all things,

But not at all.

Could have been better.

What happened yesterday?

My spirit broke.

Just fasted to acid

I yawned when it dawned on me,

I eat when I'm awful,

I'd rot in my body

For time and for all words,

For forwards.c for four words

I haven't been loved since

The door closed

On more curses.

I haven't taken a time to be honest

In heartthrobs—

Four of them, really

But after all,

I've got my all stars.

Come to find out,

The first husband in five—

We're just all four.

I fell out of love with a punch—

But I left all my stuff there.

Wondering here and there

Whether or not it was

Okay, this is officially the weirdest thing that's ever happened in the

nevermind, that was weirder

I told you bro, you were in the Illuminati.

IT WASNT ME.

i didn't do it.

WHAT IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO

[HER] [HIM]

—NOTHING.

Great. !9/ I have to wash all my socks.

No, your dick still sucks.

what.

sorry dude.

Second yawn, now know I'm on one

The glass door passed out the fast words

With honors and ornaments

Sing to get off of the wire

We fly to get on to it

—how it all works out in the end,

(It was always a puzzle.)

That's enough of the sermon,

The sponge,

—it's all masters and mistresses

The sodom, the stop watch

The pocket

—I saw Eddie Murphy

The wonderous web that I spun after all

Was a fortune, a fountain, a father

A figure

A falcon

Enough was enough

—but it all just kept going

(Like over and over)

I just want a lover,

Without all the falling

(Not actually alice)

I lost all my change

And my passion

Just using the bathroom

—were we past that.

I use helicopters for time travel

Over the mountain

I probably never came down

And I never went back there.

It was roped off.

I'm a crossroads,

But they're closed off,

I d got obstacles

Marvelous crocs

I told you it was God!

(But forgot that I was one)

Fuck,

I'm so fucked up.

This, from the ark of the story m

Is every thought

I've yet to have

But still we're the will of the words,

Since it all I it automatic.

I should have paused hours ago

(He had cerebral palate ir autism)

I should be back at the ranch,

But I've still got this taste in my mouth

I should really

—remarkable crush—

For an infinite love,

I thought.

There was Severus,

But you mustn't react

If not wearing a mask,

Or else you'll be cast on a show,

Not your own,

But do you get your

The mushrooms were made of squishy foam and I appreciated that.

Factor in this rampant rapture

For m the capsule l upon us

The wildebeest walked over

Arches

Before he as pardoned

I wonder what acid reacted to

Carson, on honors

I polished the ghost

On the worst of the wrongs I'd not done yet

Therefore, you are.

On Halifax,

Or ahalycon,

For artifacts

Or dinner dates

I once mated with a bird

And flew the coop,

Not shortly after,

But

What in the fuck am I watching

What the fuck

YO.

Nobody told me about this.

You greedy bitch.

I—yeah whatever.

Which road shall you go

Which road shall you take

You have to move on

Though you tremble. X quake

Whatever, I'll keep that typo,

I gotta finish this joke.

I was reading this banana bread recipe1-

Not because I don't know how to make banana bread.

Banana bread is easy.

I was just trying to figure out how to make it

Without eggs

And without baking soda

—you know, for texture.

So I google this recipe,

And I don't know what made me actually click on the recipe.

—

The rabbit has human hands.

—I don't .

Yeah, sometimes it's best to leave them in the mystery,

Leave “them”

Who is “them”?

I am alone!

…you were always alone.

Okay,

Or is it a donkey?

What in the fuck?

—-Oh, nevermind, that's me.

I'm gonna want that “air trumpet. “

Return to the land of mirrors

And “why are you still here's”

They say the fame changes you

I think we really are all that

The time and the wise

And the wicked

The nine mirror cycles

The sons of the songs you wrote

All the the god and the sun you are

Goddamn it,

Just finish the joke!

(You should finish me off first.)

So I click o. This recipe

Here we are counting cards again…

YOU DID THIS IN ON PURPOSE,

Are you serious, I did this in “post”

Shut the fuck up, you didn't edit that video yourself

—I didn't even shoot it,

Aha.

“The Art of the—

—but which Alice is Alice.

IT WASNT ME.

The joke's not as funny after all this.

(Not my fault, it's automatic. )

No, there's no ‘Nothing'

In here,

We all thought it was over,

Then then I wondered

How to old it all in

Blow out the candles,

Come over,

The wonderful world of —

You know, I can't see now,

I'm hearing my faults—

Are you sure it wasn't over.

Would I forget you if it weren't for a word

To remind me which part of I you are

Simple sameness

I am hungry,

But the day was undaunting

I was almost over it

Now back to nothing—

Since I belong there.

There was no book four before.

I should keep metronomes and impartial clocks

Not for timekeeping,

But soundbathing

Something about it tells me to drown out my sorrows

With cellibacy

And alcohol

It all come back to haunt you

When you have a daughter—

Now doesn't it?

How does it go? It goes

The heart screams

I've got to go home

But the head doesn't want to

The soul cries for someone to hold it

Outside of the body

The water went up,

Then went down

Till we ran out of all of it

—I was just making a mockery

Of my own mother.

(I was aborted.)

You might let that cat out of the bag.

The recipe started,

Here we are in a house of cards

And it all falls down

Or goes up in flames

Oh, to love the fire,

Though I'm so tired

I would write

For the times

If I was

Inspired

Shift the subject

Life the veil,

And break the worth wall

Break the curse

Or write the wrath of karma

Shopping malls

And quarter horses,

Blow up dolls

And mattresses,

Perfect persons,

Sayers,

Singers, dancers

Character actresses,

Theatre dictations

You see the same,

I saw, I went

It's all one column now

(The middle)

The ensemble was fireworks

And wellbeing

For all the struggle

The clock struck minus one

At unimportant.

—The facts.

I took priority for phone calls

And piety for beings of dignity

Honorary,

further off then comfort

Just a world away

Or are you being

Suffered, or sufferable?

Surfaces for surfboards—

Words of will for honeycombs

And gingerbread for Anastasia

Sure Google,

But it was

“Amistad”

Whatever that was.

I could have figured you were bigger than interesting

Never would have guessed

We'd have it for us eating on the cardboard

Cutouts

Matchbox offerings

From dawn until sunset

Porpoises,

Toilets and

Gold watches

When will it work?

When you sing what you want to

At will

With your heart

And above all the offers

Took love over money

I'm 5 minutes over.

#ff

[The Festival Project ™]

{Enter The Multiverse}

The Complex Collective ©

The recipe started with something like,

“Growing up, there were two things my mother and I often baked together: chocolate chip cookies and banana bread.”

I paused for a moment and thought of myself and I, and then I thought– “okay, sure, yeah”

Growing up there were two things my mother and I often baked together:

Ourselves.

Lol.

hehe

[That's The Punchline]

–Maybe the first one was better

[The Festival Project ™]

-Ū.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

True last Dillon Francis was bad.

Like really bad.

So bad, I still have to remix it.

Let's hope this one is better.

it is.

Wait, what is this.

—don't open that.

Fucking great.

What the fuck is this.

Who knows, man.

Oh look, a portal.

Goddammit it, this whole dude is a mindfuck.

(™

Wait, hold on a minute.

Why, what happened.

Every time I fuck around with these people I feel like I'm being fucked with.

Well, they are DJs, so…

*snifs*

Hm.

Wait.

Yeah.

Didn't this dude hop through the dream world just to tell me he had a girlfriend.

He surely did.

—-sounds like a trap.

How dare you.

Ah, shit—

Did I ever write that scene where

DEADMAU5 gives -Ū. (Or Happy Accidents, Whatever) a thumbs up instead of the middle finger she was hoping for.

HOW DARE YOU.

Well, if I didn't write it before, I wrote it now. ‍♀️

SUCKS TO BE YOU.

Yeah, it does.

I'm closing the portal.

That's fine, I'm going to bed.

Fuck everybody.

Especially weak tiny dick people who ride motorcycles outside my building.

Weak ass bitches.

*niggas

**roaches.

I just realized like,

White people's whole deal now is to do as much

Passive aggressive shit to make black people's mental fragile

To make people

Pop

So they have an excuse to keep

Fucking with (you.)

That your behavior—

Your reaction to their sick,

Twisted,

vampire shit

Gives them a reason

To keep it in their minds

That you are lower than them.

That they are better.

Their entire game

Is finding ways to kill you

Without even touching you.

To make your kill yourself

And call it

“‘Mental illness”

When really it's just a

Series of psychological terror attacks

In order to remain

Dominant in a society

Where they can

Thrive in being

Lazy,

Arrogant

Fucking energy vampires

Yo,

What the fuck is with white girls.

Why are they so fucking EVIL?

They're like, energy vampires

They don't do anything for themselves

At all

And pretty much exist

Stepping on other people

And then calling that shit

“Hard work”

They are practically fucking USELESS.

Like,

If that is your staple—

If that's your girl—

If you're the guy that's like

“I don't know what I would do without her”

You fucking SUCK.

Cause she fucking SUCKS

And that's the basis of your fucking maneuverability and survival.

You are LAME.

Keep your weak dick

Tryna fuck these

Child-looking bitches

“I can't live without her”

Dirty house having

World-stealing

Slave-driving

Ass

Over there.

Karma's coming for your ass.

Your life doesn't get to be this fucking easy

For this fucking long

And everybody else just fucking *really* works

And suffers around you.

You are fucking LAME.

“I don't know what I would do without her!”

Probably nothing,

What most white people do anyway.

Fuck these energy vampire motherfuckers.

They don't do shit

They just use their blue fucking light-reflecting eyes

To hypotize people

Into making other people do shit for them

They don't do shit

They don't clean house

They don't wash dishes

They need to stop treating mental illness like a one fucking size fits all concept

When

Most colored people's mental health issues

Come from fucking the trauma of the societal fucking race war

And most white people's mental illness

Comes from the inability to see that

They've had it so much fucking easier

Than everybody else

For fucking nothing

How the fuck do white people

Have the nerve to be “depressed”

With fucking everything.

Interchangeability is dominance in this society.

You can be ANYTHING

You can have ANYTHING

And you have the nerve to be

“DEPRESSED”

OVER WHAT?

Fuck these toxic ass fucking

Vampires

But you tell them that shit about themselves

And they'll just green light your fucking disposal

“Racism is over”

But you're forward and telling them that in your experience,

That it obviously isn't—

They'll just deny your entire existence

And call it your fucking fault

At the end of the day, really it is your fault—

For giving them the satisfaction

Of doing your little dance around them,

Wearing your weave,

Minding your manners—

And letting them continue to get away with

Taking your light

Because they don't make their own.

(They just exist on yours. )

His war tactics were comical,

At best—

A victor, champion

And honorable warman

That's it! Imm going to make a vegan neopolitan ice cream!

You're going to make—ice creM.

You're going to make—ice cream?

On no, trrrs that guy from 39 rock again.

Do you bastards work on Sundays now?!

You know what they say: if you don't come to work Saturday, don't bother showing up on Sunday!

You would think we'd get a day off in this bitch.

Shut up.

Oh, if it isn't the pampered prince of—

Shh, shut up, he might hear you.

YES.

The toil of knowing

That all of New York

Lies most unseen,

Cloaked to the working

Hidden to the poor,

Far above skylines

And rooftops,

And fear of them

//us

//it

Artifact

Hyperbole, given ranges of circumstances

Heartwarming eathworms,

Two day delay on a martyr attack

Come, mother

Move//

Love closer strictly to your wings

No bullets,

And strangely,

The pain has moved

Out of my wrists and arteries

Into my head again

Mr. Valentine, strictly for the art force

Never murmured or remembered

Words so softly unheard of

Why call us?

I needed armor against the devils warcries—

Telephones and dollars, motorcycles

And motherless crossfires

I told you, waiting

Imm nearly out of my body

And not willing to compensate

For never tied you I

To the bounds of boundaries l

Brick exposed walls and

Leather, not faux

For the given lcuxies

If unmistaken

Bitterness

—the tombs of it all.

Unflourished.

I'd better flag that one

Are you looking for a new body to be housed by?

Grief stricken and decaying in the original marksmanship

Of beautified craft—

Well, now

Aren't we seasons greetings

And good tithings

Aren't I!

Whatever he puts his mind to,

He conquers—

The question stands—

What is it,

He's out his mind to?

Are you ever in your own body?

Are you ever in your right mind?

Which one's the right one?

Fair.

The coughing controllable

Waits for the regimen

Of daily values

Set to offer her

A grand scheme

Of nothing at all

An intolerable

Forgiven grattitude of

Imbalance, captivated at all

By noting but

A line between

What was easy, becomes sacred

In its later challenge, and being blind

Becomes sighted,

At will,

After all suffering

Has been marked,

Dove

Where to put the lips,

Or the bullet, without them

Whistle blows the the water,

Reflective as her eyes

And rotted core

West, then—

For futures sake,

As to live without

Is to die amongst hoards

Or broods, no fit for greater lives

Than the galaxies of unwashed stars;

For metaphors, a gratitude forgotten

You're not doing yourself any favors.

Could I make it more clear how in love we are?

The devil wants,

So he speaks in water

Through the tongs

The warmth of the light shines

Throug eyes and isle

The wickndness would follow

The women,

To die for

On his alter

A sacrifice

And so,

The program resumes

The judge is presiding

The wedding's put off

Or postponed

Or not happening

He played his 7 years best out of all of them!

In at the first, in the end—

As a marker

Tears of a clown,

Dressed in white, and blue faced

Befriended the enemy of interest

In sanctions!

WARCRIES'

(Warcries)

Tidings

—tidings

Heroines,

Warcries

Warcries

Warcries—

How are you now, rabbit?

I come as bouncing blondes,

Seeking truth

And refuge in your love

As a sister,

The bonds of warcries

Disheveled us

Awaken,

Warcries—

How now

Warcries

Tidings

And

Tiding

Warcries

Sacred

Patron

—sirens.

Sirens!

*fsce*

Should we go?

We should.

Quick!

(Nothing)

Men!

(At all)

On your feet!

[nobody moved at all, not a muscle]

I don't know what I do it for.

I need to know some things

Abo it at least two people that are alive.

How to go about that

Without striking code

Goes beyond my understanding

In this diety

She walks around with

Salt in her pockets

As a call to action

Against robots

With demon ties

To fight wars