[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

I think I die before my mom.

I hope I die before my dad.

I don't like the world at all,

The microphones on phones are bad

What in the simulation?!

This girl's shoes said

“Adidass”

It was adidas, but with a extra s.

#ohmyhoodness.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I was sitting becalmed in the Lee of cunnyhunk, just when.

The funseekers are coming.

They what.

Eyy.

AH NAH.

I gotta get out of here!

WHY.

THE FUNSEEKERS ARE COMING.

The “funseekers?!”

Shh! Stop saying that!

Everyone's saying it!

That doesn't make it right!

Write this down.

I'm not doing anything you tell me anymore.

I shouldn't have to be saying it.

—I don't like using brainwaves.

Likely, because you have very few of them accumulating,

With purpose.

The budget for this season just increased.

What budget.

(Budgets-*)

Wait, this is…

Multiple projects?

It's multiple brokers.

Idk what that means.

Well that ticking noise is most certainly a hat…

And for once, somebody that way is playing some good music

I'm an old lost soul, long gone

But not far from here, you know

This time Mr softie was in perfect timbre with the music playing l—

Sugar pie honey bunch

Master, or messiah

Method, or minstrel

Never a mistress

I fuckin love white people!!

You know why?

Geocaching.

Fuck, I almost forgot about that.

This is weird.

Everything is weird now. Everything is WEIRD.

When's that album coming out?

anever. I quit.

i told u i was deadmau5, man.

Wtf.

wait , like, all of it?

ya.

shoot that nigga.

LIVE:

All the Niggaz is getting shooted at.

EVERYONE ELSE

…that was already happening, tho.

WHITE SUPREMACISTS

*shrugs*

*drinks another bottle of coca cola*

*trashes entire planet*

*doesnt feel*

Lol

BLANG-BLANG.

MEANWRHILE:

DEADMAu5

NO, I'm TEsTPiLOT

Whatever, dog.

KILL THAT N–

DEADMAU5

LOOK AT MA DIK.

…ok.

Wasnt there another scene after this?

I dunno, I got dick-stracted.

Yikes

UNTIE ME.

UNITY.

UNITYYYYYYYYYYY.

WHAT.

UNTIE ME FROM THIS–THING.

No, actually, I think you should stay there.

The most bizzare thing happened this morning.

The most bizzare thing ever, to have happened to me, ever—which is saying a lot l— but

I was scratching my head, and all of a sudden,

This tiny fingernail—

An itty, bit, teeny-tiny fingernail, like,

Dislodged itself from my soul or something—

Fell out of my hair,

Okay, God. What.

This baby fingernail—

Like, okay it could be like a newborn big toe nail or like,

A one month's old like actual finger

Aww, I just used to bite them. They were so little I didn't want to cut them with the clippers.

Their little fingers

You don't want to accidentally—

You know,

They're just so soft.

Awws.

What the fuck, God.

That makes no sense.

I've been primarily by myself for like—ever—

And anytime I'm in public, I'm wearing a hat—

My wash machine is only used by me, thank god and

What the fuck does this mean?

HOTDOG-HOTDOG.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I was sitting becalmed in the Lee of cunnyhunk, just when.

The funseekers are coming.

They what.

Eyy.

AH NAH.

I gotta get out of here!

WHY.

THE FUNSEEKERS ARE COMING.

The “funseekers?!”

Shh! Stop saying that!

Everyone's saying it!

That doesn't make it right!

Write this down.

I'm not doing anything you tell me anymore.

I shouldn't have to be saying it.

—I don't like using brainwaves.

Likely, because you have very few of them accumulating,

With purpose.

The budget for this season just increased.

What budget.

(Budgets-*)

Wait, this is…

Multiple projects?

It's multiple brokers.

Idk what that means.

Well that ticking noise is most certainly a hat…

And for once, somebody that way is playing some good music

I'm an old lost soul, long gone

But not far from here, you know

This time Mr softie was in perfect timbre with the music playing l—

Sugar pie honey bunch

Master, or messiah

Method, or minstrel

Never a mistress

I fuckin love white people!!

You know why?

Geocaching.

Fuck, I almost forgot about that.

This is weird.

Everything is weird now. Everything is WEIRD.

When's that album coming out?

anever. I quit.

i told u i was deadmau5, man.

Wtf.

wait , like, all of it?

ya.

shoot that nigga.

LIVE:

All the Niggaz is getting shooted at.

EVERYONE ELSE

…that was already happening, tho.

WHITE SUPREMACISTS

*shrugs*

*drinks another bottle of coca cola*

*trashes entire planet*

*doesnt feel*

Lol

BLANG-BLANG.

MEANWRHILE:

DEADMAu5

NO, I'm TEsTPiLOT

Whatever, dog.

KILL THAT N–

DEADMAU5

LOOK AT MA DIK.

…ok.

Wasnt there another scene after this?

I dunno, I got dick-stracted.

Yikes

UNTIE ME.

UNITY.

UNITYYYYYYYYYYY.

WHAT.

UNTIE ME FROM THIS–THING.

No, actually, I think you should stay there.

The most bizzare thing happened this morning.

The most bizzare thing ever, to have happened to me, ever—which is saying a lot l— but

I was scratching my head, and all of a sudden,

This tiny fingernail—

An itty, bit, teeny-tiny fingernail, like,

Dislodged itself from my soul or something—

Fell out of my hair,

Okay, God. What.

This baby fingernail—

Like, okay it could be like a newborn big toe nail or like,

A one month's old like actual finger

Aww, I just used to bite them. They were so little I didn't want to cut them with the clippers.

Their little fingers

You don't want to accidentally—

You know,

They're just so soft.

Awws.

What the fuck, God.

That makes no sense.

I've been primarily by myself for like—ever—

And anytime I'm in public, I'm wearing a hat—

My wash machine is only used by me, thank god and

What the fuck does this mean?

HOTDOG-HOTDOG.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

twak'd (end of days)

Collection I- 'better off dead.'

Track 05. - 'twak'd' (end of days)

Prod. by Blū Tha Gürū

Did I already post this?

idkz.

oh well. Here it is.

and some enter the multiverse, or whatever

I thought it was L E G E N D S

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

{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

{Previously…}

Evidently the motorcycles begin to now attack when I am at rest , on line, and not recording.

However, once I begin recording, they stop.

This has only been since I've been intentionally collecting recordings and data to add to my report to the NYPD and any applicable law enforcement agencies, as this continual threat seems to be politically motivated—and motorcycles, mopeds, and other motorized vehicles being used as a form of psychological terrorism as a direct threat to public health and safety. Terror stalking.

Gang stalking.

This may be a politicized attempt to promote or enforce gentrification or other political agendas.

Living//Loving life on a server,

Doesn't it seem wonderful?

Let's face it—

It's Fast Friday and I'm not going to be

Bouncing off the walls, or anything—

But I might be prone to a lot of

Critical thinking,

And though it's an expensive maneuver,

And risky expenditure,

The fact of the matter is—

I haven't really been doing anything.

I've been not complacent,

But stagnant—

So perhaps maybe this little detour

Will be just the thing I need

To erase some of the damage that's been done

To my psyche—

Sitting in this terribly loud apartment

In Brooklyn

Trying to find peace

And make music;

When the answer all along is that

I need to increase my visibility

In order to find what's needed;

The fact is—

Knowing where to go

Or what to do

Or who to meet

Is not going to come in isolation—

No, not at all.

It would come from a neatly designed

—whatever, I just got bored.

Perhaps if I study hard enough,

One day, I could complete my studies somewhere

Like Harvard,

Or Columbia—

But first,

I'll need a new diploma in my actual name.

You see, nobody's giving any kind of real fuck about my music.

I can't keep throwing money at it thinking that the way to success is going to be making enough money, to spend enough money, to hopefully buy the attention of the robotic masses, and eventually maybe even a club owner or festival promoter

Who might be looking to put me on.

Don't get me wrong— my music is good.

But we live in a computer, and let's also realize:

That with the noise in this building,

And the overall head trip of counting up my pennies for every little thing I need,

I'm starting to get physically ill,

Just sitting here, understanding that

To look the part, one must prioritize

An expensive beauty regimen—

Which either would leave me at the mercy of some man,

Willing to do these things for me,

Or that I might earn this myself…

As you see,

I've chosen the latter route—

The more challenging, perhaps,

However,

Leaving my celibacy intact,

And granted, otherwise uninterested

In the males at my level of circumstance

For any purposes beyond entertainment—

—seek no other actual companionship at all.

I like myself,

I love myself—

And though feeling uglier and uglier

The more I stare into the face of my telephone screen—

I am wonderfully beautiful all on my own.

—but—

The masses expect a spectacle,

And so,

It becomes part of my job, as an entertainer,

Part of my repertoire—

—have mercy—

(I'm going to choose to ignore that, sort of)

To do at least what has become expected of me as a woman—

To be “pretty” —

And though the makeup and hair and nails

Might be fake,

–Cans cost a fortune—

Myself without those things, as observed and proven

Becomes overlooked, dismissible, and only attractive

To those, of course, to whom I have no business

Associating

For both personal,

And professional reasons.

—moreover…

Conduct yourselves well, my dear—

As the furious skies have warned us,

That the roles you carry out to mark and torment others,

Will soon reflect upon your own mirror

Into which you stare,

And no mercy is given

By the eye that looks,

Or any other

The nearer to doors I am,

The harder they slam—

The, though I am fasting,

I'm suddenly hungry,

A far cry

Which forces me to realize

That all of mankind

Has been poisoned

Toxic,

And become

Unsafe

So,

What's wrong here

Is they've

Taken all the nutrients

From the foods we need

And put it on

A competitive scale

So that

The more you earn

The healthier you are

And of course

The healthier you are

The more productive you are

Which creates value

Maybe I didn't have to take the GED;

Maybe there was some way to go about getting

My actual name

On my old diploma—

Hopefully without cost.

But it didn't make sense to move into a new era

Or a new world

With old haunts.

I knew I needed to seal the name change records

So that my abuser could not have access

To my identity.

For whatever reason,

I wanted things like Harvard and Columbia—

I wanted to succeed and to win with a reputable and respectable foundation—

I wanted to raise my son

To play football

And split custody

In the sporting seasons

In which

I felt he performed best.

I wanted to show him success

Without making compromises

That would hurt and weaken

The strength of the body and mind —

But most importantly, the soul.

I hope by now you've realized how odd it is

To have a crystal dildo

Sitting in a glass jar

On your kitchen countertop?

…I'm soaking it.

…But why crystal tho?

Wouldn't you prefer

An iron tenderizer

For that steak

Rather than a

Silicone one?

…now that you put it that way.

Come closer, darling,

I want to connect with you closer

Than besides

In the eye of the camera—

Don't you know, anyway—

How dire the circumstances become

Once you've broken the fourth wall

And entered the quarry.

You lunatic!

Don't worry

The moon hasn't gone yet new,

And my honored eye

Still betraying the thought you are,

The battered ram and the shackled horses

The bloodied bull

And the heroic matador,

Fight

…

…

…

—by fury with design, for the holocaust.

The masses have loved us

From far beyond reason

For our class action theatrics

With no aversion at all,

To violence.

A treasury!

Kill him, then!

Kill that bitch.

No! Just— scare her!

Right you are,

(And right you were!)

Dear Johnathan,

I should have warned you

More than once,

What an. Honorable sacrifice

Your wicked life

Has offered us—

Foragers of freedom,

March upon the underspoken

Warcries,

Offer us none

But the end of our suffering

In solitude,

A service of none,

All together,

Hurt and bea—

Arthur.

I warned you once.

You see,

Men need women,

They move on fast.

One, none parted

Before finding another.

Let's not separate the eggs from the whites.

Isn't it all “the egg”?

You know what I meant!

What do you “meant”?

The yellow part!

God, you don't half to yell.

I'm not God, I'm just playing her part while she runs off for awhile.

How long is “awhile”?

Just finish those tarts.

Mm. Pop tarts.

NO.

NOT POP TARTS —

Just TARTS.

…wait, can she hear us?

I can hear everything!

I'm playing God's parts!

“Parts”?

(Let's just say it's a double role.)

Hey.

How's it goin?

Okay. Relax…

I am relaxed.

I don't want to scare you or anything.

—nothing's scary—

But—

[pause]

You have a knife in your back.

[beat]

Yeah.

[beat]

(Cont'd)

It's just [a little] something I'm working on.

What? We should call an ambulance!

Nope, I'm fine.

Just—

No! Don't touch it!

What?!

Just leave it.

It's time for pros and cons lists—

It's time for diamonds

Time for great minds that think alike.

I sterted a revolution on Google documents m

Ya'll started chemical warfare

On skin color

God

Made me born into a world

War

Where fair skin takes priority

Over others

Gave me a notebook,

No pen

A traumatized mother,

A drunk father

And said,

“Fix problems”

I think I didn't like The nell Schooll ll

Cause their

mascot

Is a pices

They said I got

15 minutes of fame

22 minutes of superstardom

An hour of celebrity

And

2 hours in a leading role

Of a feature film

Franchise

So I'd better get used to it

And I'd better make use of it

And I'd better make better lists of

The huffsk yll m You

W t you

Sorry,

Gym typo

Because

Of course

I'm a beast

Faux pas,

As I was,

Saying—

I should make better lists

Of the guff I wanna boff,

The doves I Central Park

The pigeons, turtle doves and

Waffles—

—I still want the

But not the buttermilk kind

MAMA!

I gotta get to Tom/ Diner!

FATHER!

(Try papa)

Papa was the ops!

Nah, I'm vice.

I'd better get

Anything done

Before midnight strikes

Along with the hunger

My gloves are straight soaked

I got puddles in my shoes

I wanna top Obama

Start all my dawns

With hours of cardio!!

Look,

I can channel anyone I love!

Do you love me?

NO!

—I just want your body a lot

Like a lot

LIKE A LOT,

Tho.

We're too famous—

We sense crazies and go out the back door.

How famous are you again?

Apparently, like mad famous, dog.

Were so famous,

We look danger in the eyes.

Oh yeah, this dude is fucking nuts.

Didn't I say to pay it forward?!

I don't need a reminder

Of what time it is.

Sometimes I forget

This is yesterdays workout

And I'm due back

In the AM

Where the crazies

Can't get to me

Exactly

Where I am

(Don't remind me how high I am.)

I might jump just to get on the Television

Martyrdom for attention

Still haven't mentioned—

I'm thousands of galaxies out of him,

And only two millennia older

Than

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Fuck you.

SUNNI BLŪ gets a surprise party for their 27th birthday.

I've been advised to stay away from the doors and windows.

Why.

Ū crashes through the window.

GODDAMMIT.

They don't make them like they used to

—I heard a song through a hardwire

I don't know who lied so much

I tried so hard

To be gone

But I still wake up

Under a security blanket

with a palm full of rocks,

In a glass house

God knows I'm sorry

Woah friend, old friend

I've heard the whole story now

Old frog, old toad

Old tortoise, long road

Special forces

Art protector

Fortune teller

Hypnotist and potions professor

Overall,

The one you wanted

Wasn't a body at all,

But just the thought

And so I'm off for once

Out of my zone and

LET ME TRY.

No, Jenna—

Liz, let me try.

I don't think that's a good—

HELLO.

Like this game, frog

Once a week it's fun

To partition the saints and summoners

Covers with salt

The cast out the others

And add flavor to prayers

Asked in hypothesis

My what a wonder

(A free form stream of consciousness)

—a free form flow of consciousness.

Stop repeating yourself'

Stop tripping over words for goodwill forums

Don't preach to the masses,

And head out the back door at the sense of danger

The sense of danger!

It's Jane kzmarzarakr

righ?

What the FUCK.

I'll get back to that later

I gotta—

…Somethin, somethin, somethin.

What.

Somethin—somethin—

There's something between us.

—is it cancerous?

Probably comical.

Are you on one, or off of it.

Careful, Mr. cervix.

Why AM I Mr. Cervix?!

Because you fit the part!

I'm a woman.

My decision stands.

#focus shifting.

Re-examining mental health conditions which affect those facing poverty or at risk environmental circumstances.

I had been searching to no avail for the title sequence of one of my mother's old soap operas without having to ask her —

#focus shifting

No, sometimes it's just ADD.

lol

Yes,

Okay.

I already know all the words.

Sometimes I have to hyperfocus

To fully comprehend,

But really

I just want to figure who produced it m

In the cadences,

I'm like diamond for hire,

Pull out the subs for submarines;

I put out real fire

But, something like a half forgotten language

There's something unknown in the darkness,

I'm unsure what to put into perception,

Just shadow boxes

Making friends with The Devil, are we?

You shackled me to your horrors,

Out of control were my monsters

A gratitude of nothing more or less

To offer my body, curse

The sacrificial lamb

Tied to hard earned disaster

A heroism and seeking

Solace in the night

—interceptions.

Whatever Google,

Take care now

All morale is lost

On sacred worship

Cruel to hurt,

But all has costs

To front

— the standard values

Only those amongst mankind

Who have value in vanity

And fortresses of design

Not in truth,

But of auspicious and

Inglorious

—

Goddamnit,

How far away are you?!

I can't make out almost anything that you're saying!

Far!

That's because, it's not saying it in your language!

He

Sorry. He is just using the closest possible language so that you can keep transiting it into English!

Well, you're doing it wrong!

I gathered!

There's no direct translation whatsoever.

They might as well just be speaking Martian.

They are.

(Well, some of them are.)

I think the best way to go about making anything

Into anything

With the species is to

CRUCIFY HIM!

…that's not gonna work!

You just blew my mind, did you know that?

Not on purpose.

—but did you know that?

I try not to know things, but you know,

The more I try.

Guess what.

No.

You've got something coming.

Let's make it positive.

As you were—

As you are, then.

I realized that something had changed,

That not only had t seemed it had become unsafe to speak, but also,

That I didn't want to much.

But, in Order to do something, in order to grow at all,

I would have to force myself to understand

The things that I always could have, but did not

Multiplicity, Faction

Are you an altruist at all, or just a

Song starter—

Help Me- Appleknockers Flophouse

Just remember aces of embraces

Sitting in the shape of the eye of protection

Of obsidian collars and bracelets

Still no percussion,

Instrumentation and perfection

Graces

And remembrance of getting a ring,

As strictly enforced

To do what I'm told

With nothing to hold onto

But hoping the means to an end

Shouldn't be the barrel of a gun m m

How soft spoke.

(No, no words at all)

The name was new,

But the form was old,

And he said—

“I curse the day you were born!”

And I laughed at him—

“But how could you curse the first day there ever was!

Before days at at all had come to mark

To pass the dawning of the ages?”

And of course,

There are the ones who had come and gone

And left no trace at all.

You all should learn from us—

Come, then gone from earth

And left not a spot at all—

Of course,

The mystics of I,

Are as one,

To have given you thought,

Words,

And artform—

To have written at all, your published works

And then none

A far cry!

To have cursed the day I was born—

Is to have cursed the world at all

It was all at once, anyway

Astonishing

A far cry!

#focus shifting.

Now what are we on, and over – m?

Now are we an art, or have we bought or purchased

Another swarm of haunts?

What have you offered?

A lesson? A song?

Cheshire?

A treasure chest of ideas, and new haunts

And four plus four hours marks

A full workday

Of harsh tidings

And no commas.

The dollar sign is all you are

All you are,

dear serpent

The shadow box

Of times and talks

The heartfelt words

And omens

Marks of

Long:

Crude

Color

Let's not reform to how hallmarked

The call was

To sign for

The wrong box

It was published

In her heart

To mark twilight at dawn,

Sorrowful, beyond words, was the sloth

And the stolen love of the harness

—that's right,

I was once the ritual disaster for your kind

And cause!

The false tongues to fall upon earth

A false prophet, marked at all,

By strife and swords to battle

The Ark of all,

In the eye of God,

So opened the chapter of

illuminations, once for thought as wicked

But after all, the merchant of saints upon man

Stricken in time to the word of The Lost Ones,

the eye of all,

The origins of love

As we are

Born in color.

So spoke the caterpillar of the butterfly—

Not knowing he was only

What was to become of him

As some are

Also

Disgusted by us at all.

We are,

What is to become

Of those who die

Blue eyed and bewildered,

Though beautiful,

Unknowing of strife

And hard earned glory,

The solitude of

Kindness

So said the spider,

Drawing upon the corner,

Her thoughts of the ocean,

Once earned and once taught

To perform out of mercy—

Now cradling heartworms,

Challased, unspoken

Signals to all throughout cosmos

The end of a

Turpentine, serpent calls

Gods of old

Summer winds

Striking songs

Games of dust

Simple throne, cast away—

Are you Ark,

Or seeking proper

Word form?

Given you, a taste of fury—

Given ye, a taste of envy—

Given they a fire for exile

Are you now

Another forager

Waking in the wind

Or cross tied bounds

Seeking refuse in waste rebels

Eyes you are

Of one that wants

To bury in the far side

All the awakenings

Of cherished nature

Never to be shared

A guilt of refuge

Are you?

Are you now beyond bounds—

Behind bars—

Let her

Guide you to move words

Like rivers,

Unknowing

Unknowing

Unknowing

Basking in the shadows, are I

Made of stone and withered

Basking in the broken tongues

Of cherished thoughts

And severed forms

words over

Of false ties

And blood bonds

So for us

Mistaken!

Misgoverned.

Torturer—

Where are you now that I've my shield

And sword,

And warguns?!

Have you cried

For your mothers kisses,

As shadows have cast

I have killed you before and always!

Where are you now,

That I am not without my wings?!

Where are you now, torturer—

Given nothing at all

But a word form song,

Destroy

Art thou my kind, or another?

Art thou a man at all?

Art thou my kind, or any!

Seeker,

To destroy you

Be my glory,

Though I come not

From worlds of war.

I come not,

From worlds of rage.

I come not,

From worlds of pity

And refuge

And disaster

As your worlds are.

I come not of darkness.

I know not of pain to cause others.

I know not of force.

But act instead, on behalf of love,

Dear brother—

As to kill you,

Whether or not be my kind—

I kill my self also.

You'll remember this part in a moment – m.

What a strange time to be alive,

And yet-

Yhes— I do remember

The teacher warned us,

With no sign at all,

That the dust formed in all stillness kind would follow,

The awakening of shadows and sleek stardust,

Carried out acts of misery and misinformed

There now awakened in the callings,

Are I not, wanderer,

Your teacher and also those alike

To be called offspring?

I Am.

Tainted not the purple swarm

Essence of her greeting

Beyond fortress,

No house of mine,

But awakened yet with the gratitude of offerings

No kindness at all but a mark

Of Serpent seed,

And references

To that of past,

No need to bring

In present times.

No concept,

And full force with the shadows,

They're making a call to the wild,

After having raped and defiled her,

To ‘save us—‘

But savor this now,

The mark of I,

The eye of mark

So betrayed and strung,

Nearly all that lies beyond the screams of

This,

Your world,

Our fortune,

To grasp a new kind among us

To fault ye

Of your greedy.

Oh!

It has become what does awaken,

To awaken!

For once,

Thought to have been written,

Was thereby foretold,

On many journeys

The soul seeker, had won.

A cherished and unbeknownst charter.

You called it—

A paychonaught?

You called him:

“A pedophile”

Granted, the wish was that

The outside world

Would be shown

What I had seen

To no witness

But a toddler,

Mine born

To have guided

A new life

From two kind

Once blue

Eyes at all

I promise a sword.

I had realized finally what it meant to go unprotected once proclaimed to be of Diety within a magical realm, with given talents of medicinal force, and with refuge—though only to give upon knowing, the sanctity of soul, and the purity of heart—the kindness of spirit, as I once had.

You'll remember this,

But last time near a river,

A bed full of green, soft (m) grass

And your time has come to feast,

And end of fast,

Twice given thoughts to form,

And knowing worlds would come foraged

From your knowledge.

Are you forgotten?

A mango, ripened to heart, of course.

Nourished the journey,

Yet untold

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Ow, my eyes.

If you were looking for something in Fallon,

You may have found it.

What might I have been looking for in Fallon;

And if I were, what might I have found.

[The Festival Project ™]

More downloads.

That's our boy.

That's why we like him so much, isn't it?

—he's such a good boy.

Yes he is!

Isn't he?

Yes, he is. Good job, dear boy.

Good job indeed.

You've done well.

V.O.

This time I know that I've outdone myself.

I have long legs and a long torso. Check it out.

Doesn't that mean you should be tall?

Seems like it.

What if I thought I was 5'7 like my whole life, but I'm actually 5'8.

That would be nuts.

I was 5'6 when I wanted to fuck Skrillex.

Makes sense.

Don't be too tall.

The world began to close from around me as my earplugs expanded into my inner ears—much deeper than they should have actually been, but still how I liked them, and as it turned out the brand of earplugs I had been buying for the better part of a year were actually inferior.

‘I should eat something.'

I was hungry after an intense workout of mostly only cardio, which was well overdue if only by a few hours after my body decided that it for certain needed a rest—the protein powder I had in supply was my least favorite, and in limited supply, however, I thought that since I was trying to slim instead of bulk, it would be an adequate choice— I had spent the day prior attempting to replicate the energy of the previous day, which had been spent fasting, however, the intense hunger overtook as I thought to write a second collection of sounds, perhaps that ‘antithesis' should be written with indulgence, and though I had intended to spend the day with the work ethic I had generated the day before, to no avail I instead spent the day toiling away at just one song, my first technical remix with the remnincence of my first muse. I was sure with that alone that he again would be moved further away from my existence than ever, as the more I thought of anyone fondly at all, the less attainable I realized they actually were— and all the while I knew that within this realm, it was more likely that soon enough there would be someone perfect without having to work for it at all however all the more deserving because of such that would step into the spotlight that I had once coveted; now, almost excruciatingly, my art really was for art's sake, and not for fame or attention, and at the very least there was something urgent that spoke to finding a way to the security of an actual job—the safety of continual income.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Trigger warning: this series contains adult content not suitable for children or under the legal age of majority.

Listener and reader discretion is advised as this broadcast and its selected readings and projected writings contain explicit language, provocative wordplay, profanity, open expression of suicidal ideation, discussion of evolved/ de-institutionalized theories concerning depression and mental health, race relations and colorism, socio-economic inequality, political injustice and media politicism, scientific hypothesis , modern philosophical ideals and spiritual explorations, crude humor and may include and contain pornographic content, references to fictionalized interpretation of public figures (fan-fiction), caricatures or references to pop culture, modern art, music, science and other entertainment references which may evoke biased emotion, inspire adverse reactions or discontentment, or discomfort.

⚠️ VIEWER, LISTENER, and READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ⚠️

The views and opinions expressed by this series and its subsequent editions, additions, chapters, broadcasts, and publications are solely the writers' interpretations as expressed with artistic and entertainment purposes only.

The artist reserves all rights to intellectual property maintained and produced by any and all publications of this series and is thereby protected under any applicable copyright law and/or trademark.

All fictionalizations of persons living or dead are meant to be perceived as characterized and/or fictional (fan-fiction) are for entertainment purposes only, and are not to be perceived as real re-enactments, dramatizations of events past or present, media dialogues or agendas, or factual exchanges pertaining to and surrounding real-life circumstances.

The dialogues and entires expressed in this project are in no way liable for any action, expression, disagreements, entitlements held by the reader at his or her/ their own discretion and therefore will not be held accountable for any actions by the reader on their own account due to perceptions which may have been inspired and/or provoked by these readings or any of their subsequent editions.

—rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfrrfrrrrfrrrfrrfrrrrr.

[The Festival Project ™]

You know what? Fuck this place.

Fuck your color coded red lined fucking bullshit.

New York is so visibly fucking racist it makes me want to hurl.

I'm gonna kill you.

Finally get out of that contract, did you?

…no.

I had worked out the full hour, but I was no less angry; I had even walked a couple miles and jogged a little—but I might have been even more mad.

Aiagepalaqalerhelehee

DIABoLICAL

SONOFABITXH

{Enter The Multiverse Legends:

A Review}

He— shot himself in the head.

Hm. Did he mess up his face?

What?

If his face is alright I can reanimate him—no problem. But there's no point if he's got a hole in his face

How are you gonna cover a hole in his head?

He'll wear a hat.

I think the whole point of white supremacy—

Is to get blacks to have to do stereotypically black shit

Like beg and steal.

I've learned that

People will set you up and corner you

So that you have to do some shit

They can later hold over your head.

I've learned, after all this time—

That the only way to win a rigged game —

Is by cheating.

People love setting people up.

People love making it look like you're up to some dishonest shit—

When it was dishonest to have set you up in the first place.

People are sneaky.

Life is politics as fuck.

Everything is business.

There's no kind of rules to the real disasters in life—

I just discovered a new political issue

I didn't even know existed

Until I had to experience it

Nutrition inequality.

The quality of life one experiences with full balance nutrition,

Which is kept out of the hands of the masses by the greedy and wealthy elite—

The difference in the quality of life one faces

When able to afford proper nutrition within the alignment of one's purpose.

THIS is why I have people posted up outside of my apartment trying to kill me?!

Probably.

Don't come between a man and his business.

Don't come between a man and his business.

Don't come between a man and his–

“prestidigitation”

You are the ace,

I am the m Diamond, I Am The Heart,

I am the spade

Did you do this on purpose?

Space, that's an odd name.

Another magician.

—what else would you call this?

I wouldn't.

(To be honest, I didn't know what I was doing.)

Well, there it goes.

Well, this should be fun.

I—

Cut my throat

To watch me live again

Or leave me hanging here

As morbidly as you desire

To come inform me

Of my royal nature,

Yet undone by another

Fortunate, in either aspect

Where are you, now

To tie the winters sleeve

Upon my sleeping chambers,

Whispered into hear thy neck

My captor slowly soon awaiting

So far a severity

Hereby unsworn

I lie to seek escape

Though captured for nothing in the eye if beauty alone;

Andamine, I am,

I wait to be free

oh! well.

Sick to my stomach

I plea for your waking

A scarcity,

Still slithers up my spine,

The

*gunshot*

Vent, baby Keem

hooligan, baby keem

-The Melodic Blue, baby keem

[The Festival Project ™ ]

As it turns out,

The assembly of the impenetrable ten,

Also automatically stood as

The most revolutionary

Saturday a night Live

Reunion

Of all time.

Why isn't Keenan in the impenetrable ten?!

Yes, WHY.

NON.

NO.

NONSENSE!

Because!

We don't have time for a negro spiritual every time something

Mm—NO.

Suspicious happens.

This is suspicious.

O boredom,

I need metaphore for movement

Disfigured m,n

Centric and stil

Consintrical, if you will

Disasterous dreams art thou

Eating shining m,

What I need and

Holy, only what I want

Dear captor,

Shining as the morning night

I was,

As slumber did fall upon us

Waiting for the watching cry,

Somehow seeking justice for intrepid

Indigence

—what, what did you say?!

I said—

—is that a word!

Let's see!

Post poster conformity—

Oh, here we go again

No borderline

Or robot border patrol,

Focus now in the motors,

Run for you excellent cries

Simply warn us, will you

Everwaiting, perhaps

For the fortune, until

Stories of foragers

Will you again

Creep, calling,

Temper,

Justice

For now, let's say

All liberty is liberty does,

As in the mind, let it rest

As in the heart, let it flourish

As in all hu/mankind

Casts judgement,

Upon each other,

But meat,

Not among the waking tide

The realms you call upon

And cry, at ask of will

For wishes granted

And prayers seen over

I have an irrational fear of Jack o lanterns—

Does that mean anything to you?

No…should it?

VO

Suddenly there were Jack o lanterns everywhere.

That's so weird, I never wrote that scene— it just kind of popped into my head, and then—

I make thoughts

To the shade of your love

I can't seem to need anything

Or want any longer

But just to escape,

To be free from all tragedy

I don't understand…

There's a light on,

It appears,

However—

Hollow,

And wicked looking

It's barely even spring,

And suddenly as I walk about,

They seem to be appearing

In my path,

Amidst my dreams

And everything i know is

No one

Everything I love is

Gone

And everyone around me seems to be

Some kind of

Wrong,

Or fornicated,

Tragedy,

It seems,

Another tragedy.

These Demons.

I should be working on project III

And making coffee for the evening

But I can barely breathe

Awareness

I can barely breathe

I can barely even think of myself as anyone at all

Actually

(Anyone at all, actually) please

Help me

Please help me

I hate all my lines in this movie.

Then change them—

Really?

Or trade with someone else.

Like, the whole character, or just—

Just, the words.

Just the words?

Or, like, whatever.

I can do that?!

You can do—whatever you want.

“Whatever you want?!” I'm an actor!

So act, then!

You put the words in my head;

You were just the worst

We are who we are, just

Whole worlds apart

You put the words in my mouth,

On top of the scars, that's

A whole broken heart

I guess we are who we are

A whole sky full of stars

I still can't find my sparkle

Just no reason to smile at all

I guess we are who we are

“You were put here just to be [redacted] mother, and then die.”, said the voice—

Which was not my own, but some man's.

I didn't believe that, at all—actually,

But I had just sent my divorce papers in the mail,

Attached with it the accounts of everything—almost everything, anyway, that had happened that had caused me to be such a distance from my son in the first place, as I had never intended to just leave him with his father, whose birthday was either the next day, or the day after—and it was almost funny to me that I couldn't remember which it was, as I realized that in the beginning, I had loved him so much that I had looked past all of the disasterous, ugly things— the phlegm on the walls, his lack of respect towards anyone, especially himself—but anyone at all— but first and foremost, especially myself, who I had finally learned to love before hand, and had finally learned to love again—at least, the best way any woman could love herself.

The algorithm was playing serious mind games and tricks on my psyche again, and I wondered if I should just attempt the next two days sleeping —but it would mean that I would miss my deadline for project three, which I had intended to be released…

The demonic energy again began to shift around me as I twiddled away writing—the traffic outside moved more rapidly, and doors in the hallway from my neighbors began to slam, and I knew without a doubt that he had tried to kill me using some kind of curse of black magic, but couldn't—somehow I had lived, but was still being made to suffer—

and that whatever spells he had used had summoned something nasty into all of the creatures, humanoid and alike, that could be controlled without the will of God, who I thought might be lost, were it not for the songs that had come in the wake of begging for God itself to free me which was the nightmare, the curse it had become to have only fallen in love once, with the kind of man who could not.

Now he had wished my doom onto me, which left me wounded and afraid, unsafe in any element or environment , plagued by coughing bodies and robotic slaves—none of which I assumed he hactiallh had the power to control, but of a greater force which shielded itself to consume me, and mimick his energy with the attempt to allow that my own mind would bring about my death, the fury and pain which it must have been to lose what I had found myself to always be, a good woman—

My exit had humiliated him, damaged his pride, and bruised his twisted ego enough so that he wished I would siffer such an ill fate—however, as I had finally learned to know and breathe, that all the damage and control done to me, he would now fall prey to in his own will to destroy me.

—all that seeks to harm me will therefore harm only itself;

And all who seek to destroy me will be destroyed in doing so.

Amen.

I don't know how hard he hit you, this time, but he really fucked you up.

Yeah, I guess.

Fuck, I lost that whole Tom Hanks Movie

No, it's still there..

No, it's gone—everything's gone!

HELLO?

HELLO?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?

It's dead.

She's gone.

—Portal closes—

Oh no!

No!

This is ‘situational'—

“A Situational Comedy”

So, what's the situation.

…I Am.

Ok.

Wait—

No!

Hold on a second!

Nevermind—

Comedy is born from tragedy, right?

Sometimes.

Uh oh

But WAIT—

No, Billy, not now.

*billie?!

Right.

Idk.

There are other types of comedy, I guess.

Look at this.

YO! It's THAT guy again!

Yo. That's that guy, and his eyes.

Strange.

Yeah, I don't—

I don't get it, is this like a—

SIRE.

You don't belong here, I assure you.

DENNIS LEARY

UGH. Can I GO now?!

I'm afraid not—

You've just made captain.

Okay, now you're famous.

No way—

Hey!

No—

HEY

NO.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Now I know too well,

The well of tears on my guitar

She's got a body like one

Oh her curves

But I just wonder what it like to be loved

By stars

Socialites and superstars

They're Gods, you know

How high up they are

Above us

And he lives in an ascended dimension,

But he insists, he says

Her transcendence is upon us

He said

Your transcendence is upon us

He says these things,

And then just vanishes

So she gets up promptly

Warms up yesterday's coffee

Looks around in her coffin

And wonders

What for

I just

Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars

Without double r's, you know

I've got scars

But it's mostly just

Teardrops, and soft kisses

On my guitar

Cause, oh, Oli,

I ain't got nobody—

And nobody holds me

Like I hold Oli

(Could have been Ali,

But of course—

I had already lost that one

A whole well of tears,

I lost

At his departure

And a whole well more

When I actually lost him

I almost miss

Having someone to talk to

About anything and everything

But I've got Oli

And God now

I've got Oli

And Oli (oli)

Is all that I've got

Besides God

That's the only contact

In my

Phone book

No more double Ls

And double entendres;

No more double rs

At all

Just scars now

No more metaphors.

Honest is radical

I like them cynical

I should have clinical insanity by now

But I'm only just an artist

You can't help

But can only harm that

And if it hurts hard enough

I'll put art on my walls

Become permanent

Storybooks all over my arms now

My coat of arms now

I've run Ten point 5 miles

In the last 3 days;

But if I rest today

Will a motorcycle gang

Have a parade outside of my window,

To drive me crazy?

I hope it rains,

So they can't play these games with my head

And the seeds that I planted

So deep become daisies

I still don't remember

The way he rearranged me

But these days I make my name sound

So the way

He can never say it

Just imitates

The way

I hate myself

I should be dating

But expressions are

Atrocious

If I fall asleep—

Who knows

I may get

Stolen

That tends to happen

So I'm

All the way up

And I'm swollen in ways

That I hate to say

“I love you”

Love me back

Or say it harder

That's my martyrdom

Come off the cross, for a moment,

Would you for us?

And bend over

Or bow, if you will?

If I did,

Would you still call me wicked

Or just a Good witch

Since I'm a woman,

I just couldn't be

Jesus,

Who you asked for once

And always

Who you asked for some

To save you from your

Credit reports

And consorts

Or some sort of

Nonsense

[famous last words]

God don't speak much English,

She says

God don't speak much these days

We were

Always

Telepathic

That was way back then

When Oedipus Rex

Was on the Guest list

I was standing at the coat check, asking

Why I must take off my hat

When entering the service

To the bouncer, he says

“That's just politics”

I said,

That's just politics

We both said,

What's the difference

Then we all laughed

—then we all just laughed and laughed

Exchange is my favorite exchange

Where my favorite exchanges

Have happened for centuries

Of engagements

Endeared species,

And races pieces haven't tasted the same

Since I haven't had them

Animal products

And animal planet

I found this hat on

Discovery channel

Did you want it?

I can't stand it

So I had to have it back

I just had to use the bathroom

I just had to disconnect

From

[]

See—

I don't even have to put the words in

Cause a name is just words

When that's a man

You just can't have

And that's the worse

When that's a man

And you can't have him

What a habit.

Silky rabbit.

Now he's the

Ace.

All In A Day's Work

I've never died before.

Oh…

that is terrifying.

It sounds terrible.

It's really not that bad.

Why are you not writing this down?

I just need a moment…

It's really not that bad…

I die all the time.

I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's

Look at the colors

The clothes,

This sure isn't queensborough

Escalators for shopping carts

I get it Manhattan

I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects

Where my kind are

I don't belong here ,

God you're intolerant

I like this part of town

But I'm way too brown

And I dropped my crown at the market

I should be jealous of everyone

But I have learned my place

I've been a slave since Hollywood

I lost my son to the devil

Now I pay child support

And terrorist follow me coughing

I'm wrong just for being born !

You could start a war from it

If that's what you wanted

I'm a people watcher people watcher

About to board the people mover

People mover

Slip,

Here's the tell

Slip, here's the tell

I should have a bell around my neck

I think she wanted a picture with papa

I'm playin my own paparazzi

Look mom, I bought a sarcophagus

There go them niggas with coughs again

I been watching em

Got binoculars

I got oculus, for my oculars

Look how hot he is, make me ovulate

Man I gotta love it,

Cause they love to hate

Fucking racist crazies

Have it your way

I paid for it with my soul

You hate but I love to love

Somebody just got me fuckes up

I don't have a book to run off of

Shut up, honey.

Now we're all up here

Monkey in the middle

Cause the middle one is weaker

It's getting deeper and deeper

Like the sinkhole that my sink is

Let it sink in

I've been syncing my secrets with demons

In dreams sequences

It's just a reparative injustice

Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff

You can have it

It's ruined anyway m

Look at all this trash

Look at all these classless classes

Classwars,

Racists.

Everybody hates us

The Asians,

Latinx's

The other niggas

What being black is

I'll write it in cursive

It's just a curse, here

So you can have it

I'm moving to Heaven

I'm packing my boxes

I'm getting a cat, too!

His name is Agustus

He's a big one

And I love him

I just wanted a hug or a husband

Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest

And got for a bargain at target some coffee

For being a targeted body

All on an algorithm

I guess I'm just useless.

A dumb nigger demon

Did I just offend you?

Then you shouldn't be reading this either

I wrote it for pleasure

(Or pain)

On the one

Or the two

Or the one

Or the two

I could do a lot with this $20.

I could spend it all on

Fuck all of you

I'm moving to Heaven

Where the heart it

She's not harmless

She's a terrorist—

And I'll kill her, too

Look how right she is

Look how white she is,

Huh

Regardless of color

It's a race war

Lil biiiiitzzz

Yooo, fuck New York.

In every hole.

In every crevice.

Fuck this place.

It's racist—

Not just cause I'm black.

Like statistically.

It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out.

I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan”

Everyone was like

“NOOOOOOOO—-“

Haha

“Nooo, no.”

I was like

“Why not?”

The blacks were like:

HAHA

The whites were like—

*COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY*

New York is so racist.

It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation

At the same time.

WHAT.

How do you even DO that?

But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here.

And the rich whites are like

YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE.

Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto.

It's some SHIT,

It is NOT COOL.

I finally got my ‘night card' back.

Had it revoked in california .

I was almost a whole valley girl.

I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods.

Trader Joe's.

But NO. Now i live in the hood.

It's fucking disgusting.

I can say ‘nigga' again.

Cause it's NIGGAS.

Lots of niggas.

I'm telling you. It's night and day!

The white folks trains smell like bleach—

Ammonia.

The black folks train smell like a McDonald's.

WHAT.

Or just—

Vomit.

I can actually count the number of times just—

Vomit—-

On the train.

Or.

Dookie.

Yes. Human feces.

But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland.

Families!

People singing!

Hey—cotton candy!!

—and I didn't have to pick it!

Haha!

Fuck New York.

Racist ass HOLE.

I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all.

At that party…or rather, kind of—after.

That acid that never hit Beyoncé

I don't feel it.

Man, I'm a terrible influence(r)

Just take it.

Nah, I'm good—

PUSSY.

-_-

Give me three.

K.

—suddenly hits BEYONCÉ.

BEYONCÉ

…I got this.

[BEYONCE] however, does not

Ohh, shit.

— “got this.”

A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z

What's even after gen z?

The fucking apocalypse.

Anyway.

The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely.

Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong.

Lol

In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel.

Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper consciousness, which

I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around?

I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw—

These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific

Fuck this is hard to explain

Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation.

Anyway, what else is happening

Oh.

All of the celebrities are stuck in—

[the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which

lol. That never going to happen.

Because.

Let's face it.

I'm scared of

…rich people.

Yeah, sure. Yeah.

I'm scared of

The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality.

So why try?

[EDITS]

CONAN O'BRIEN

Alright.

If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next.

No, Conan—that's not how this works.

WHAT—where did you come from!?

When did you get here?

JAY LENO

This goes deeper than all of you can understand.

WHAT the FUCK, man!

When did you-/

—when did he get here?

How did you do that?!

How did you do that?!

What are you, like, the same guy?

Are you not all the same guy?

[they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree]

Listen at this.

Okay then.

The enemy of your friend is my enemy.

Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend—

That is correct.

—so we're all friends here.

That's right.

Some special forces?

Which forces?

How special?

[JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK]

Do I look like a fool to you?

Uh—

OOPS

[a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.]

This feels heavier than usual.

Same as always.

Hm. Are you sure.

Yep.

Hey, you're not the regular guy.

Regular guy died.

That makes sense.

JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū

Okay, grosss

Not like that

[lifting max weight]

Okay. That was cool. Wow.

Yeah, sure whatever.

I am strong

Yeah yeah, okay.

Are you sure you want to be my size?

Yep.

JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū

Okay, gross!

Yeah.

SKRILLEX is in all of Ū.

okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but

That other guy?!

[JIMMY FALLON]

Yeah, he's weird.

Also meanwhile, kind of—

MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service

lol.

Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know.

Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke.

What?! Big uh!

[Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.]

Woah!

See.

Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that.

Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine

Ooh.

Psycho bitch<> devious methods <> new ludachris commercial

All ya'll girls is toddlers

I like long boards and longhairs

Lawn mowers and lawn shares

Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher

I got the Blair witch project

On Blair,

I hope I scare you

How dare you.

Your girl looks like a naked mole rat.

I got my soul back.

You blue eyed bastards stole everything

From the whole blacks,

Hold that thought

I'm at Whole Foods market

throw in the Amazon algorithm off

With marked dollars

Look at God at Walmart

On them rollbacks

You old hacks are cackling

I'm shackled to old habits

Hold hands with me, rabbit

I'm just a silly rapper

really, are you?

Maybe.

Cut the verse of

Reverse God

Now I'm the devil

I'm still lost in the Amazon cart

I sharted all up in your pop tarts

Before you warmed them up, pops

Just for the sake of the art,

Heart to heart,

It's a war on love

And the white girls won with nothin but

Buckets of

Whatever's up there

I wouldn't know

Cause I'm stuck job searching

And running,

Trying not to have a tummy

So some gummy worm will love me

First their sour, then they're sweet

Then nobody,

Trolli

Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean!

Said nobody

But the globalists are performing your programming

Which you're worshiping

I put my eye on the dollar

So I could watch you all

Crumble and fall

Don't you know

The apocalypse is happening at the mall

Of all the places

How's that for a stream of consciousness,

You salamander

I asked Anandar back

But I went past that chapter

Have a chap

Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars

A bottle of water will cost you a fortune

(But at least the drugs are in it)

Get it

It's recycled piss

Distilled? Which is it, Mr,?

The mystery box was literally lifted into

My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it—

I want a refund, before I catch that

Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it

salmonellahallibut

One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk

But guess what?

The devil's in your pocket or your palm,

And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one

Cause God is awesome,

But my mom is fuckin toxic

And that's how I fuckin got here

Blow my head off,

Slit my wrists

And write a song

While jumping off a bit

When all you need is money,

But the world costs more than

It's worth, and words are nothing

But another fucking problem in your Google documents

I look at my son and see a God,

But half of Satan's in him,

Oh man

Robotics

Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this.

Where's my sides?!

WHERE'S MY SIDES.

You don't get SIDES with this;

It's just CHICKEN.

I don't eat CHICKEN.

It appears as though, however–

You do.

Ok, I gotta get off this playlist.

I…

i

gotta .

“The Wal*Mart Wars”

Hm.

…

………….

….

*face*

… no.

No. l–

What is this place.

{After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control,

great , there goes my peace.

Not forever, though, maybe.

FUCK THIS PLACE.

I HATE THIS PLACE.

Everybody hates this place.

But the album is called

“I love New York”

Yes, thats

Technically

How it's pronounced,

though

It's stylized like

I _ NY

Cause.

EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY

Oh, wow, this is beautiful.

THis is great.

I love this place

FUCK THE FEDS.

CUT TO:

EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE

Anywhere ‘above' like 87th?

Lets just call it 80th, be safe.

BE SAFE!

NIGGAZ.

ah shit, i gotta go.

BITCH–

But lets just be honest,

It's technically ‘above'

But it's really

[THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld]

Oh no.

srsly tho.

X_c

Anyway.

FUck man,

Do you think i'll ever get good like that.

Idk what equipment is this

Hmm, lets see, that's approximately

$8,000 USD of CDJs

wow

yep

That's retarded

Yep.

And you still need a mixer.

fukt.

OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this.

Consider it done.

wait , really?

YES. you earned it.

Wait, I–

What?!

You earned it…

Uh oh.

Take care now.

Shit.

[BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART]

Uh oh.

Fuck.

what is this place.

INT. WALMART. WHENEVER

EMPLOYEESLAVES

WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE.

That's not funny

IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau

MEanwhile, in this other dimension,

So that i don't offend anybody…

Actually, you know what?

Be offended.

Quit that stupid fuckin shit

and follow your dreams!

Wait really?

Wait, really?

Sure!

If you want!

…i guess.

AMERICA

NO.

INSTANT HOMELESSNESS

ok , nvm.

Damn.

I know, right.

wtf r u guys watching.

Shut up.

All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents.

x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be

Could it really?

Shut UP, PLURNICORN.

Wtf is a PLURNICORN

We'll see.

[Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public

Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?!

NO.

I grew up in LA

Rich as fuck

And i've been famous since I was liike 12,

Or something.

Right.

That is–kind of terrifying.

LATER:

WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE.

WHERE'S THE EXIT.

THEY HAVE GUNS?!

oh wow, they have GUNS.

WHY DO WE NEED GUNS!

KA-BLAM.

BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS.

Bang-bang!

Ptttttttttt—sttt.

And they have guns.

Actually, these are just– confetti cannons.

*pop!*

Lol