It's that wall between you and the world
The star of your own show
—an unpolished tryphophobe,
Hyperboles and hyperbolic chokeholds on the shows you love, the clothes you used to own;
A phone in airplane mode,
No knowing what the code is,
Lol don't tell God you're bored in New York
Don't tell God you're bored at all.
SUPACREE's FIRST ANUAL FLEX AWARDS
First Flex, of course goes to SKRILLEX— for showing up in New York unannounced —then leaving me there to die. !. Major flex.
Now that that's out of y question . way.
ARMIIN VAN BUREN— for dropping an album on my birthday. Flex.
KX5 for putting my name in a song. — and spelling it right. Super major flex
Not so suddenly, I had grown tired of the psychological game that was being played, whether it was in my own mind or otherwise—and had decided to withdraw; I couldn't bother myself m by worrying about things that were entirely out of control-however, by maintaining a distance, by now, I had realized that there's m I paid attention to anything at all, the more in control of it I was—and so I did my best to keep away, and as hard as it it was to not speak with my son, now that he was with my mother and potenrially happier—as speaking to him before he has always sounded sad—and though it was a sad situation in general, the time had passed that I was going to fight my old family on anything, and continue to be fucked over by the same patterns and behaviors they had always used against me, now that I understood very well the rules of power, taking in the lessons I had learned as sacred—as well as myself; not that I was sinless, but after all I had sacrificed, I did seem to emanate something Holy, and though I had to have considered all that had happened some kind of spiritual awakening, I still worshipped my God, no matter how apart from it I felt or was—and I never really was, anyway. Something indeed was strange—and though I considered myself to be in great mental health, consistently dealing with people who were not—ie, the whole of the general public—to be disasterously draining
I'll give you a run for your money—
will it sync with my phone?!
Phones—where we're going, we don't need phones!
OKAY, THAT'S IT. I wanna see this fucking movie!!
I don't care! Just put all the scenes together and call it a complication or something - lol
Yeah, I remember her now.
People in blazers and shit,
Like wtf you go to a dry cleaners?!
Cuffling wearing morherfuckers.
And here I am, in my baggy ass pants, just trying to pretend. I don't live in fucking Queens.
But at this point—you know what?
I look like I live in fucking Queens.
I'm one pair of crocs away from really not giving a fuck about my life at all.
Sit here and write for awhile, why don't you?
Now that it's nice, take the big city vibes in
Life isn't high stakes and New York minutes— it's
Sitting in ignorant bliss,
Listening to fountains, from a distance
And not trying to fix it—
It's an optical illusion.
And you still are, on the surface
Still accomplished, under all that
Loveless news, financially discontent,
All the words were up to something;
Just as quick as adderall or some
—a force of useless nature
Underwater in midtown Manhattan
The mad hatter, sitting at the entrance to the matrix,
Entranced and enthralled by the mallets and maladies,
One that tricked her has imagined
It's a trickle down effect
It's just a deficit of culture
Redirected and defected, But de facto—
Haven't had a laugh in ages
Haven't trusted ever aince;
And heaven comes just when the words have all been written
Are you looking down at me.
I'm always looking down at you.
Try to wipe the confusion off your face a bit;
It's settling in between the brows,
And you've no makeup to cover it—
Mirage to men, and still a central figure in their fantasies, imaginations and emissions,
And nobody needs to hear it
Nobody needs to feel the words I wondered once,
Then lived them, written In my fingertips.
Another iPhone wins the war;
A wind reminds me just of him
Has Skrillex mentioned you in Instagram—
Or have you called your family?
Then you're not fucking done yet
You asked me what to do with the festival project:
The answer is: “just do it,”
Put it somewhere, go to bed and to the gym—
and when it's finished, and the money's rolling in. and Jimmy Fallon phones you,
happy that a dollar in his hand at random landed in it—
That's when you're finished.
What if that never happens.
Oh, there's Eminem again.
Talking to God at the plaza.
Slipping away through the alley
Falling in love with Manhattan.
Wondering when you'll be happy
I almost swore to God that Hal's the Broadway musicals being advertised were fakes—
they just seemed so terrible, so bad that it had actually made me feel—
that I somehow had a chance
I'm at the Whole Foods running up a bill
Feelin kinda hype—take a pill, needa chill.
I'mma oh like a quarter of a mill
I already gave you the deal
So what! That's even worse!
TMPL FITNESS- for offering one-day trials to their boujee ass gym—
Lol didn't I write this already
You wrote everything already.
You can't cancel a party that's been going on for 4 days.
Damn. It's been four days.
Supacree's a legend for this.
I'm gonna have to put you on The spot right now, I'm sorry.
Suddenly, the deadmau5 and the avicii hit all at once.
Speaking of bass cannons.
SUPACREE'S FIRST ANNUAL FLEX AWARDS
kx5–for making a dick-shaped bass cannon. SUPER HARD fucking flex. Literally.
Are you a gym rat— or a gym shark?!
The game. It's no fun anymore
I JUST WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU
Get away from me— I will throw you in the ocean!
Lol. That's it? That's the end of the episode?
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