[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Pollen on my lips,

I love to kiss you;

Missing the elliptical at Equinox

A full eclipse

And I've never known anything to smell to sweet as this,

Just naturally

I'd loved to be loved

But I'm just getting famous

I guess that's the trade, then

A sacrifice, as if I'd not already lost my life,

—Or slit my wrists

Intermittent 5th dimension

Tim, or what they used to call him…

But he can't remember.

This is major Tom,

Another psalm

Or poem,

From Ms. Gypsy

Spinning into mixes,

Drifting into spiderwebs as a reminder

She would write for The Times,

Like the power, or a webinar

She borrowed the guitar.

Which then, became a gift

So she dismissed him—the minister.

Or who administers the medicine

Of the administration

Menustration , under stress of course

Or as she keeps on fasting

For Last Earth

Seeing things?

Certainly!

I've been fasting, and under the influence of Dillon Francis

God Dammit Hanzel

Did you have to

Hold her hand

And have the other one

Covered in Kandi

On that album cover?!

I can't stand it

Whatever the master plan is

Give me the schematics, quick

So I can land a man to match with

That holds a candle

To that piñata

Maybe I should shapeshift into Taylor Swift

So I can get some dick in

The right complexion…

Is that too explicit?

Or maybe I should just stick to Skrillex

The first on my wishlist—

Until Kayla Lauren

(Or the other ones—

And there's a lot of em;

The rabbit's always on the run)

Hey Allison

Or Alex—

Yeah, that's it

I'm still an insomniac

Just trying to forget that I'm black

And only mildly attractive

With a New New York accent

And sudden onset passive aggression

From the stress and pressure of synethesia

And mastering my tracks

Without another expensive subscription

And another one

Here comes another one

The sun just spins in circles and whistles

This is the worst I've ever written with indifference

‘Fear nothing'

On, the fire burns

And nothing more she ever feared

It only gets better from here

It only get better from here

It only gets better from here

Still, my love burns

Like a smouldering flame

Here, a star was born from the ashes,

Destined for fame

‘Avarita,'

She called, from the caverns of lust—

The curse has been broken

Come dawn, from the dusk

So much for purpose—

Gone was the suffering;

Sending smoke signals to dieties

Laying beneath all the names,

The labels so sacred

Such secrets and fables,

The table of

L E G E N D S

All worlds collide in collisions of conciousness, space, and time as we travel the ever-infinite multidimensions of existence as we know it…

(Or—Don't.)

Rules of Time Travel:

Don't

‘That one was hard', i thought loudly to myself, finishing one banana and reaching to quickly peel another–I had been famished, and by force of nature had broken the predominant rule of fast–not to interact with the public, and therefore had been quick to hurry the fast to a finish; now that it had been s long in the understanding of the spiritual connotations of fasting, i knew never to attempt a show–especially a long DJ set, without having eaten, especially well; I needed to maintain focus, and as my career began to shift heavily, I became quite religious to certain superstition and routine of course, never allowing myself to fall prey to anything too ridiculous; I had been thoroughly taken advantage of–and knew certainly by now there was no room for error or mistakes, misjudgement of character– and I myself, perhaps just a canvas–rather than an unfriendly mirror most would be unwilling to face.

The last and first thing I had consumed had been coffee– a lightly brewed vanilla bean which had exceeded most of the coffee I had consumed during my time in new york by far –a daily staple and absolute necessity, learning harshly from having spent tolerance breaks and unwilling days without coffee begging God for a glimpse of light; Alas, it had come to the point in my adulthood that certain things were just part of me–and coffee was one of them, a welcome and at least usually warm antidote for what seemed to be more often than not a cold, heartless world.

But today, the sun shone and spread light and joy into my heart and mind a I trekked the nearly one mile walk to a nearby asian fusion restaurant that I had avoided before, but now was unwilling to suffer the consequences of a 4-hour set during a fast in which I spent a devoted amount of time and energy in the early morning amidst the miserable and robotic drones of the early morning commute–I was at least happy to have poured through a decent chapter or two of the books that I had finally climbed from the plateau of reading–a book about the rich history of the underground–a well-written journey into the past of a world I loved, but had become so distant from, in my heart and mind, but never in my soul– my own collection of unique and eclectic mixtapes growing daily, my own skill surpassing even my expectations–but it wasn'tmy expectation that I needed to surpass: i had yet to attract the attention of the greats–or even the lower-level promoters and managers which would spark my entry into the dance-club scene, elevating my professional DJ career from playing in parties, bars, and strip clubs and into the actual raves, clubs, and festivals that my soul came from –and called back out to, between the lines and hidden subliminal messages coded deep in the basslines, drops, and 4-to-the-floor anthems I curated with such forceful thought and empathy into my sets and mixes–mixes made of course with love on the mind and deep in my soul but seemingly nowhere to be found, lost in translation and unrequited, reverberated in the emotional undertones of the music I played day in, and day out, sometimes with tears in my eyes, but always with God on my shoulders, most often whispering the next selection into my mind's eye – my music a leap in blind faith.

‘Fuck, I do feel better.'

The Pad Thai hadn't been great at all, but it had been enough to soothe the intense waves of dissociative dissolution and disconnect that came with each and every passing fast–and with each one an honorable lesson in gratitude, for all that had come with my sacred journey: Now, I was a true DJ.

I don't know why imm looking for

Platinum delusions

“I have a question”,

Well, there goes your l answer l;

There goes your skeleton, creeping out the back door—

There goes your relevance,

An acelance,

A metaphor

Is that what you asked for?

You looked in the wrong mirror today

Is this what you wanted or not?

Delusions of grandeur

Emotions and saw what you bought from the storefront

Gobbler it up, and wanted more

More important words, for the chauffeur

Are you sure, dear

On a short order

Or a show with a shirt run

You saw the short

So you order it

Abort mission at once—

They'll call you up when all the smoke is up

In the rooftop of the cathedral

Is that what you wanted

Is that what your question was?

More discoveries, coming right up

At water Michael makers in a room full of synthesizers you could only wish you were in

It's fittinf, the description for the symptoms of schizophrenia

If everything relates, it should be an easy diagnosis—

But it isn't

It's real as hell,

But isn't

I just want a feel for who you are

So I can stop myself from loving your accomplishments

And settle for less

Like the rest of the talentless miscreants

With financial constraints

And too many problems

To overcome

Into abundance

Your works is my music and I just dance to it;

Meanwhile imm miserable and you're courting princesses

Soon to be queens, co conspirators, aqua rain es

And I'm still crying in the door idiots you opened and then left me in

To sift though this

Infinite

Disaster of indifference

I found you in the kitchen sink

So was bound to drown you in it

A katy for your baby again—

A calamity of mastery,

An actor for your Gem—another character I'd written out of affinity for abandonment

Flattened my abdomen for him

But still couldn't change my skin color

If I wanted

Dillon Francis seems more obnoxious than usual

[DILLON FRANCIS BEING EXTRA]

Mm–I don't think so.

This is out of control.

It's not out of control I'm in control

This is out of control.

we're going to play a game.

What kind of game.

A minigame.

What does this game entail.

haha.

**sidenote:

Laidback Luke is not laidback at all.

He seems calm.

That's just his demeanor.

Haha.

Okie. Whats wrong with al these guys

Nobody sleeps here.

What about him. He looks asleep.

No.

[waves hand gently]

See he's–

You're on in 5.

[Suddenly, Very awake.]

Oh wow.

See. Superstar DJ.

Well, fuck, man.

What is this

Just stand here

What. For what

Just– wait here.

Wait?! For what?!

Just – [Leaves]

LAIDBACK LUKE

(eyes)

I don't like this.

(eyes)

I don't like this at all.

MA, MORE COFFEE.

WAAAT?

MORE COFFEE, MA!!!

Lol these guys again.

I love these guys.

How did we get here?

Technically, we're still in a deadmau5 construct.

I dont think he's okay.

I Don't think anybody's okay.

Are you okay?

No.

(eyes)

…

Oh.

“Oh”

What are you doing here.

Whatever I'm doing.

You're a madman.

I fucking wish.

Be careful now—-

—careful for what—

Don't you know—wishes come true.

If that were the case I'd be the richest man in the world.

—maybe you are.

[A mysterious stone is presented.]

What is this?

[a myateriius half—smirk]

Your fortune, sir.

THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS.

What—?

You know what.

The Lakers Won?

Don't be smart!

—but—I'm a genius!

[he launches towards him with fury—a coffee table comes between the two men

—now, you're a rational man—

—AGHH—

—I wouldn't expect you to succumb to such violence.

If I don't kill you with my own hands, someone else will.

—kill me? With your own hands? Someone else?!

AGH!!

[he crushes the coffee table]

That was redwood!

—it's still redwood.

[he picks up a pointy table leg]

Where is it?

Where is what?

I'm ugly

Nobody loves me

Somebody hug me

Move over,

You need a mother;

I'm just your lover—

You're lucky

And woah

I think I want some Timmy hos

I catch the 40

Gross

Everybody's broke

What is this place?

—is that still happening?

The ashes, falling

Almost forgot about the raindrops

Something's calling me

The bus is coming

What day is it?

Last summer,

I suffered longer

Last summer still isn't over

Last summer

I came back to make money

And have none now

Last summer,

You laughed at me

Last summer,

I got my hat back

Last summer

I worked harder

Last summer I sold my hatch back

I have a whole bachelor's degree waiting for me

At my bachelorette party

(I never had one)

I came to this country last summer

With nothing but a gym bag

And this hat on

Though it might have been another one

—I always have a hat on

I like the way his legs are crossed

And it's just so awful

How lost in my thoughts I am

I'm simply anonymous,

Unworthy of womanhood

Stopped in androgynous

God,

This is all of us calling

We're lost again

Someone took all of my coffee

And poured it on top of my coffin

—I'm sad,

I've been here a long time

Without good money

—I'm sad,

I've been here a long time

I just keep writing

—I'm sad

I've been all alone,

But I'm still made of stardust

—I'm sad

I've been here a long time

I keep falling in lust with my projects

I build matrixes—

I just— thought you should know that

I never had my own show before

Why would I go back to

Being the most affordable whore in sun valley

Or something

I've got stars in my eyes—

But I guess I deserved that

I shot myself in the head

I guess this is the blow back

A throwback

You owe me money

But I don't want money—

I just want love

But nobody loves the impartially ugly

Satan said nobody loves me

All dressed up as a Japanese lady

Who couldn't contain me

And tried to control me—

But I have a hole in my head, you know

It makes everyone quite uncomfortable.

When I sat down on the bus,

I just lost myself

I just keep fighting off lust

And biting my fingernail polish, and honestly—god?

Just take my life

Before I do

I'm not suicidal

I just can't buy things

Right when I like to

I just can't find the right guy

To go home to

So you know

(So you know)

(So you know)

(So you know)

I love you

Victory, Victory ,Victory!!!

Do you want to come with me?

Victory, Victory Victory!

I'm mobile now,

Do you want me to pull up?

Victory, Victory, Victory!

If I pull up,

Do you want to come with me?

Victory, Victory, Victory!

I just want you with me

As I fight feelings of shame and disgust

I'm in the window now

Robbed of my lust

And my last few dollars

If only for the moment

I'm in the window now

Like a puppy

I have to wonder

If anybody wants me

—apparently nobody loves me

I'm in the window now

Thinking about how

Nothing I've ever done matters

Not even this

What a lovely display it is

It is ironic, you know.

I would kill myself tonight

Just never to be reminded

Of —-

I would kill muself tonight

If I could know that on the other side

It was warm and bright

And this life

Never even happened

I might kill myself tonight

Or just ride it out

And try to write about

How I arrived here

Something's apparently important

Imports and exports

Inbreds and ex husbands, wives

And Ex doctors

Sometimes I'm Michael

There's a lot of love in this parking lot

I never thought about how right or wrong I was

Until I stopped and watched it al on camera

Vandalism in a stolen prison

The whole world revolves around a blue eyed white man

The whole world revolves around his blue eyed children taking all my husbands

The whole world revolves around a lousy dollar —

All I've got is this flower;

What can I buy with that ?

The whole world's rotten

Just like this Apple

It's in my pocket

And I'm gonna light it on fire

On purpose

(Or with purpose)

Hello?

Which phone did you call from?

I don't have this number

Excuse my stream of conciousness

I was trying to fight off suicidal thoughts

not so creatively

This is my job,

Like this is your job

I look at the jaw

I want what you want

This is my planet we're on

This is is my plan, I got lost in it

Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not

You just want a nut with a butt

I just want a bud

[Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)]

I'm not your buddy.

Ah.

Look at that car;

I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's

How much does it cost?

A dollar, one—

It's like putting gas in my car,

I don't wanna

I don't wanna

I don't wanna

Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar.

It's a coffe run

A coffee run

A coffee run;

You cough, I run

You like? I'm fun

The west was won by everything under the Sun,

Run it

Equinox+ (EP)

Love brings me out of my shell;

—I could love you, I

I could love you, I

Could love you, I

Could love you,

I love you

I love you, I

This isn't good for my health;

If you don't love me,oh well —

(I could love you, I)

This is just passing the time,

Count my dimes and,

I'm wealthy, you build me up

Shining, I wake you up

Diamond of mine,

I love you, I

Love you I

Do what I want most the time,

Cause nothing else matters but

Making you mine

I, so what I want most the time

I can't get out

Out of my mind,

Cause I love you

I love you I,

Wasting my time,

I could love you but

Nevermind

Drunk,

And I'm stumbling up to my apartment for

The 30th time this month,

My rent's due tomorrow, but

I got it,

Woah,

I've got just enough

Just to keep fuxkin up

Getting fucked up

And filling my cup

Like it's something,

But it's nothing,

Not really

Nothing,

Not really

Be good

Work it out

Come on

Work it odd

Be good

Shake it off

Work it out

Come on

Be good,

Work it off,

Work it out—

Come on

Be good

Work it out

Shake it off

Come on

—

We all know

There's a monster in there

And it wants let out;

All man, beware—

Yeah

We all know

There's a monster in her—

And,

Someone will let it go

Oh,

Someone let it go

Oh, no (oh yeah)

Oh, no

That's no good

That's no good

Oh no

(Oh yeah)

Oh no

(Oh yeah!)

No, no

You just had to let it go

You just had to let it go

Oh, no!

—

I need time

To rationalize my genius

I can't write light this

Alt right all white nationalists

I can fantazize, right?

I could die like this

It's a damn good life

What fucking time is it, anyway?

Right?

I can't rationalize, this

Fascist rats at The Fashion district

Bam, I had it—

I had to get right, man

I had to get God on my Mantras

I fucked up tomorrow,

I'm off in Toronto with problems

And dogma—

Who's dog is this

Tied up at the Whole Foods market

I tried it, I died in the in

I can't idolize idols, man

Cry, though,

Dip my bicoff in Chiapas coffee

All pissed off,

Woah

It's the wrong morning to wallow in

Caught me off guard at the offering

Sha, there's no mother here,

No other one,

You're wrong God,

I stopped to cross at all of them,

I suffered when I swallowed,

Rah,

What's wrong?

I'm feeling solemn on my sodomist

Wishes of

This centrifugal

—‘swimming with the fishes,

Get it?

Woah,

It's a whole open world of

Wizards and witches

I wish I could ditch this

—the center or attention is this city—

That's Alex Tribec, for the record

Fuck the TriBeCa fest

Rest in Los Angeles

Rest in peace Barbra

Hah—

I've got all of em

This is an awful lot of mantras,

Stars and Stripes. God;

I lost it at the Oscar's,

Turn me on, or off

I'm all of it

Or not

What was the cost of this?

An awful lot of mantras, stars,

And crosswalks,

To stop dead in the center of

“I'm miserable

That's Hollywood for you, God,

That's Hollywood,

That's where we dropped you off

—

Have you had enough, yet?

How was is?

Enough!

I'm not even fully up yet!

Fuck,

It was loveless,

All up in ashes,

I told ya,

That “fun is a friend of the devil “

Burn in sense,

Just rub out the sense

Have my lips on your hips,

Just rotate,

As the earth did,

In difference, she has

Impatience is his imperfection

“Eventually,”

She says,

“I'll see him”

He tends to agree,

Within reason—

Winter breezes and freedom,

This season

Envy leaves,

But she's gonna get even

Come in threes,

And maybe,

We'll see then.

Come to the surface,

Come up—

Don't give up yet

Give what you've got;

Half a lung,

And the other is under—

Come on,

Come up,

Come all—

Come, you're walking on water!

No wonder they call for you

On earth

—

(We've got a Hot One, for you)

Have you ever wondered

What's wrong with us all?

Fuck—

Hollywood's calling,

I don't have my phone on me

Hollywood called,

But your voice Mail is full,

What?

I finally picked up;

The message at the tone,

Was in Morse code

Billy fit the Playbill,

I signed it “usnavi”

Yo,

You look just like me

A sacrifice?

A sacrifice,

I said,

I'm red,

I'm jealous like I've never been

That's right, blue eyes then

Next lifetime

Fu—

They robbed me of all my art

As a hobby

Worshipped for All I've got

Not a god yet, but

Gotta be working on something

That's all of it,

Gotta be knocking it off,

Full of gossip and

God, I want love

But it's not in the cards, huh

New Joan Of Ark,

Where's the war

That you wanted

Not enough talk,

But I've done enough walking

Gosh,

Two thumbs up,

All applause from the audience

That what you wanted?

Yeah!

“God I want love but it's not in the cards yet”

That's what you wanted?

Yeah!

That's what you wanted

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

‘That one was hard', i thought loudly to myself, finishing one banana and reaching to quickly peel another–I had been famished, and by force of nature had broken the predominant rule of fast–not to interact with the public, and therefore had been quick to hurry the fast to a finish; now that it had been s long in the understanding of the spiritual connotations of fasting, i knew never to attempt a show–especially a long DJ set, without having eaten, especially well; I needed to maintain focus, and as my career began to shift heavily, I became quite religious to certain superstition and routine of course, never allowing myself to fall prey to anything too ridiculous; I had been thoroughly taken advantage of–and knew certainly by now there was no room for error or mistakes, misjudgement of character– and I myself, perhaps just a canvas–rather than an unfriendly mirror most would be unwilling to face.

The last and first thing I had consumed had been coffee– a lightly brewed vanilla bean which had exceeded most of the coffee I had consumed during my time in new york by far –a daily staple and absolute necessity, learning harshly from having spent tolerance breaks and unwilling days without coffee begging God for a glimpse of light; Alas, it had come to the point in my adulthood that certain things were just part of me–and coffee was one of them, a welcome and at least usually warm antidote for what seemed to be more often than not a cold, heartless world.

But today, the sun shone and spread light and joy into my heart and mind a I trekked the nearly one mile walk to a nearby asian fusion restaurant that I had avoided before, but now was unwilling to suffer the consequences of a 4-hour set during a fast in which I spent a devoted amount of time and energy in the early morning amidst the miserable and robotic drones of the early morning commute–I was at least happy to have poured through a decent chapter or two of the books that I had finally climbed from the plateau of reading–a book about the rich history of the underground–a well-written journey into the past of a world I loved, but had become so distant from, in my heart and mind, but never in my soul– my own collection of unique and eclectic mixtapes growing daily, my own skill surpassing even my expectations–but it wasn'tmy expectation that I needed to surpass: i had yet to attract the attention of the greats–or even the lower-level promoters and managers which would spark my entry into the dance-club scene, elevating my professional DJ career from playing in parties, bars, and strip clubs and into the actual raves, clubs, and festivals that my soul came from –and called back out to, between the lines and hidden subliminal messages coded deep in the basslines, drops, and 4-to-the-floor anthems I curated with such forceful thought and empathy into my sets and mixes–mixes made of course with love on the mind and deep in my soul but seemingly nowhere to be found, lost in translation and unrequited, reverberated in the emotional undertones of the music I played day in, and day out, sometimes with tears in my eyes, but always with God on my shoulders, most often whispering the next selection into my mind's eye – my music a leap in blind faith.

‘Fuck, I do feel better.'

The Pad Thai hadn't been great at all, but it had been enough to soothe the intense waves of dissociative dissolution and disconnect that came with each and every passing fast–and with each one an honorable lesson in gratitude, for all that had come with my sacred journey: Now, I was a true DJ.

I don't know why imm looking for

Platinum delusions

“I have a question”,

Well, there goes your l answer l;

There goes your skeleton, creeping out the back door—

There goes your relevance,

An acelance,

A metaphor

Is that what you asked for?

You looked in the wrong mirror today

Is this what you wanted or not?

Delusions of grandeur

Emotions and saw what you bought from the storefront

Gobbler it up, and wanted more

More important words, for the chauffeur

Are you sure, dear

On a short order

Or a show with a shirt run

You saw the short

So you order it

Abort mission at once—

They'll call you up when all the smoke is up

In the rooftop of the cathedral

Is that what you wanted

Is that what your question was?

More discoveries, coming right up

At water Michael makers in a room full of synthesizers you could only wish you were in

It's fittinf, the description for the symptoms of schizophrenia

If everything relates, it should be an easy diagnosis—

But it isn't

It's real as hell,

But isn't

I just want a feel for who you are

So I can stop myself from loving your accomplishments

And settle for less

Like the rest of the talentless miscreants

With financial constraints

And too many problems

To overcome

Into abundance

Your works is my music and I just dance to it;

Meanwhile imm miserable and you're courting princesses

Soon to be queens, co conspirators, aqua rain es

And I'm still crying in the door idiots you opened and then left me in

To sift though this

Infinite

Disaster of indifference

I found you in the kitchen sink

So was bound to drown you in it

A katy for your baby again—

A calamity of mastery,

An actor for your Gem—another character I'd written out of affinity for abandonment

Flattened my abdomen for him

But still couldn't change my skin color

If I wanted

Dillon Francis seems more obnoxious than usual

[DILLON FRANCIS BEING EXTRA]

Mm–I don't think so.

This is out of control.

It's not out of control I'm in control

This is out of control.

we're going to play a game.

What kind of game.

A minigame.

What does this game entail.

haha.

**sidenote:

Laidback Luke is not laidback at all.

He seems calm.

That's just his demeanor.

Haha.

Okie. Whats wrong with al these guys

Nobody sleeps here.

What about him. He looks asleep.

No.

[waves hand gently]

See he's–

You're on in 5.

[Suddenly, Very awake.]

Oh wow.

See. Superstar DJ.

Well, fuck, man.

What is this

Just stand here

What. For what

Just– wait here.

Wait?! For what?!

Just – [Leaves]

LAIDBACK LUKE

(eyes)

I don't like this.

(eyes)

I don't like this at all.

MA, MORE COFFEE.

WAAAT?

MORE COFFEE, MA!!!

Lol these guys again.

I love these guys.

How did we get here?

Technically, we're still in a deadmau5 construct.

I dont think he's okay.

I Don't think anybody's okay.

Are you okay?

No.

(eyes)

…

Oh.

“Oh”

What are you doing here.

Whatever I'm doing.

You're a madman.

I fucking wish.

Be careful now—-

—careful for what—

Don't you know—wishes come true.

If that were the case I'd be the richest man in the world.

—maybe you are.

[A mysterious stone is presented.]

What is this?

[a myateriius half—smirk]

Your fortune, sir.

THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS.

What—?

You know what.

The Lakers Won?

Don't be smart!

—but—I'm a genius!

[he launches towards him with fury—a coffee table comes between the two men

—now, you're a rational man—

—AGHH—

—I wouldn't expect you to succumb to such violence.

If I don't kill you with my own hands, someone else will.

—kill me? With your own hands? Someone else?!

AGH!!

[he crushes the coffee table]

That was redwood!

—it's still redwood.

[he picks up a pointy table leg]

Where is it?

Where is what?

I'm ugly

Nobody loves me

Somebody hug me

Move over,

You need a mother;

I'm just your lover—

You're lucky

And woah

I think I want some Timmy hos

I catch the 40

Gross

Everybody's broke

What is this place?

—is that still happening?

The ashes, falling

Almost forgot about the raindrops

Something's calling me

The bus is coming

What day is it?

Last summer,

I suffered longer

Last summer still isn't over

Last summer

I came back to make money

And have none now

Last summer,

You laughed at me

Last summer,

I got my hat back

Last summer

I worked harder

Last summer I sold my hatch back

I have a whole bachelor's degree waiting for me

At my bachelorette party

(I never had one)

I came to this country last summer

With nothing but a gym bag

And this hat on

Though it might have been another one

—I always have a hat on

I like the way his legs are crossed

And it's just so awful

How lost in my thoughts I am

I'm simply anonymous,

Unworthy of womanhood

Stopped in androgynous

God,

This is all of us calling

We're lost again

Someone took all of my coffee

And poured it on top of my coffin

—I'm sad,

I've been here a long time

Without good money

—I'm sad,

I've been here a long time

I just keep writing

—I'm sad

I've been all alone,

But I'm still made of stardust

—I'm sad

I've been here a long time

I keep falling in lust with my projects

I build matrixes—

I just— thought you should know that

I never had my own show before

Why would I go back to

Being the most affordable whore in sun valley

Or something

I've got stars in my eyes—

But I guess I deserved that

I shot myself in the head

I guess this is the blow back

A throwback

You owe me money

But I don't want money—

I just want love

But nobody loves the impartially ugly

Satan said nobody loves me

All dressed up as a Japanese lady

Who couldn't contain me

And tried to control me—

But I have a hole in my head, you know

It makes everyone quite uncomfortable.

When I sat down on the bus,

I just lost myself

I just keep fighting off lust

And biting my fingernail polish, and honestly—god?

Just take my life

Before I do

I'm not suicidal

I just can't buy things

Right when I like to

I just can't find the right guy

To go home to

So you know

(So you know)

(So you know)

(So you know)

I love you

Victory, Victory ,Victory!!!

Do you want to come with me?

Victory, Victory Victory!

I'm mobile now,

Do you want me to pull up?

Victory, Victory, Victory!

If I pull up,

Do you want to come with me?

Victory, Victory, Victory!

I just want you with me

As I fight feelings of shame and disgust

I'm in the window now

Robbed of my lust

And my last few dollars

If only for the moment

I'm in the window now

Like a puppy

I have to wonder

If anybody wants me

—apparently nobody loves me

I'm in the window now

Thinking about how

Nothing I've ever done matters

Not even this

What a lovely display it is

It is ironic, you know.

I would kill myself tonight

Just never to be reminded

Of —-

I would kill muself tonight

If I could know that on the other side

It was warm and bright

And this life

Never even happened

I might kill myself tonight

Or just ride it out

And try to write about

How I arrived here

Something's apparently important

Imports and exports

Inbreds and ex husbands, wives

And Ex doctors

Sometimes I'm Michael

There's a lot of love in this parking lot

I never thought about how right or wrong I was

Until I stopped and watched it al on camera

Vandalism in a stolen prison

The whole world revolves around a blue eyed white man

The whole world revolves around his blue eyed children taking all my husbands

The whole world revolves around a lousy dollar —

All I've got is this flower;

What can I buy with that ?

The whole world's rotten

Just like this Apple

It's in my pocket

And I'm gonna light it on fire

On purpose

(Or with purpose)

Hello?

Which phone did you call from?

I don't have this number

Excuse my stream of conciousness

I was trying to fight off suicidal thoughts

not so creatively

This is my job,

Like this is your job

I look at the jaw

I want what you want

This is my planet we're on

This is is my plan, I got lost in it

Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not

You just want a nut with a butt

I just want a bud

[Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)]

I'm not your buddy.

Ah.

Look at that car;

I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's

How much does it cost?

A dollar, one—

It's like putting gas in my car,

I don't wanna

I don't wanna

I don't wanna

Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar.

It's a coffe run

A coffee run

A coffee run;

You cough, I run

You like? I'm fun

The west was won by everything under the Sun,

Run it

Equinox+ (EP)

Love brings me out of my shell;

—I could love you, I

I could love you, I

Could love you, I

Could love you,

I love you

I love you, I

This isn't good for my health;

If you don't love me,oh well —

(I could love you, I)

This is just passing the time,

Count my dimes and,

I'm wealthy, you build me up

Shining, I wake you up

Diamond of mine,

I love you, I

Love you I

Do what I want most the time,

Cause nothing else matters but

Making you mine

I, so what I want most the time

I can't get out

Out of my mind,

Cause I love you

I love you I,

Wasting my time,

I could love you but

Nevermind

Drunk,

And I'm stumbling up to my apartment for

The 30th time this month,

My rent's due tomorrow, but

I got it,

Woah,

I've got just enough

Just to keep fuxkin up

Getting fucked up

And filling my cup

Like it's something,

But it's nothing,

Not really

Nothing,

Not really

Be good

Work it out

Come on

Work it odd

Be good

Shake it off

Work it out

Come on

Be good,

Work it off,

Work it out—

Come on

Be good

Work it out

Shake it off

Come on

—

We all know

There's a monster in there

And it wants let out;

All man, beware—

Yeah

We all know

There's a monster in her—

And,

Someone will let it go

Oh,

Someone let it go

Oh, no (oh yeah)

Oh, no

That's no good

That's no good

Oh no

(Oh yeah)

Oh no

(Oh yeah!)

No, no

You just had to let it go

You just had to let it go

Oh, no!

—

I need time

To rationalize my genius

I can't write light this

Alt right all white nationalists

I can fantazize, right?

I could die like this

It's a damn good life

What fucking time is it, anyway?

Right?

I can't rationalize, this

Fascist rats at The Fashion district

Bam, I had it—

I had to get right, man

I had to get God on my Mantras

I fucked up tomorrow,

I'm off in Toronto with problems

And dogma—

Who's dog is this

Tied up at the Whole Foods market

I tried it, I died in the in

I can't idolize idols, man

Cry, though,

Dip my bicoff in Chiapas coffee

All pissed off,

Woah

It's the wrong morning to wallow in

Caught me off guard at the offering

Sha, there's no mother here,

No other one,

You're wrong God,

I stopped to cross at all of them,

I suffered when I swallowed,

Rah,

What's wrong?

I'm feeling solemn on my sodomist

Wishes of

This centrifugal

—‘swimming with the fishes,

Get it?

Woah,

It's a whole open world of

Wizards and witches

I wish I could ditch this

—the center or attention is this city—

That's Alex Tribec, for the record

Fuck the TriBeCa fest

Rest in Los Angeles

Rest in peace Barbra

Hah—

I've got all of em

This is an awful lot of mantras,

Stars and Stripes. God;

I lost it at the Oscar's,

Turn me on, or off

I'm all of it

Or not

What was the cost of this?

An awful lot of mantras, stars,

And crosswalks,

To stop dead in the center of

“I'm miserable

That's Hollywood for you, God,

That's Hollywood,

That's where we dropped you off

—

Have you had enough, yet?

How was is?

Enough!

I'm not even fully up yet!

Fuck,

It was loveless,

All up in ashes,

I told ya,

That “fun is a friend of the devil “

Burn in sense,

Just rub out the sense

Have my lips on your hips,

Just rotate,

As the earth did,

In difference, she has

Impatience is his imperfection

“Eventually,”

She says,

“I'll see him”

He tends to agree,

Within reason—

Winter breezes and freedom,

This season

Envy leaves,

But she's gonna get even

Come in threes,

And maybe,

We'll see then.

Come to the surface,

Come up—

Don't give up yet

Give what you've got;

Half a lung,

And the other is under—

Come on,

Come up,

Come all—

Come, you're walking on water!

No wonder they call for you

On earth

—

(We've got a Hot One, for you)

Have you ever wondered

What's wrong with us all?

Fuck—

Hollywood's calling,

I don't have my phone on me

Hollywood called,

But your voice Mail is full,

What?

I finally picked up;

The message at the tone,

Was in Morse code

Billy fit the Playbill,

I signed it “usnavi”

Yo,

You look just like me

A sacrifice?

A sacrifice,

I said,

I'm red,

I'm jealous like I've never been

That's right, blue eyes then

Next lifetime

Fu—

They robbed me of all my art

As a hobby

Worshipped for All I've got

Not a god yet, but

Gotta be working on something

That's all of it,

Gotta be knocking it off,

Full of gossip and

God, I want love

But it's not in the cards, huh

New Joan Of Ark,

Where's the war

That you wanted

Not enough talk,

But I've done enough walking

Gosh,

Two thumbs up,

All applause from the audience

That what you wanted?

Yeah!

“God I want love but it's not in the cards yet”

That's what you wanted?

Yeah!

That's what you wanted

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Pretty predictable penny pincher

Enters Jamaica center

Parked and pacrched on Archer/Parsons

Sons, mothers and fathers,

Sinners. Sisters and brothers—

Masters and mistresses,

preachers and pardons

Probably already late for work tomorrow

When it all starts over.

Or so the clock says

Or so the clock says

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Pretty predictable penny pincher

Enters Jamaica center

Parked and pacrched on Archer/Parsons

Sons, mothers and fathers,

Sinners. Sisters and brothers—

Masters and mistresses,

preachers and pardons

Probably already late for work tomorrow

When it all starts over.

Or so the clock says

Or so the clock says

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Enter The Multiverse

Enter Through The Exit Vi

ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: THE MOVIE - PART I

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE

LEGENDS: ORIGINS

Apparently, There's a movie between Season 3, and Season 4.

Of which show?

All of them.

ALL OF THEM?

That's a lot.

That is a lot.

Does she know she's being recorded?

She doesn't know she's being recorded.

Oh, My God.

ANANDAR THE GREAT.

who's this now?

--that's my sponsor

--that's my manager

--that's my...

Oh.

"Oh."

...Oh.

Ah! She's a witch!

Yo--She's a fairy!

WHAT'S THIS MAGIC?

...kk.

damn. i'm a dick.

she's such a diva.

what an asshole.

I guess it's a series of important encoded messages, or something.

4 fucking hours?!

I'm not listening to this.

We're listening to this.

I shouldn't post this.

Don't post this.

Damn. I'm a dick.

A fucking narcisist.

\

What an asshole!

What a dick.

A fucking sociopath.

"My body doesn't know what it needs."

"My body knows exactly what it needs."

Here, take this.

You can't just--

[does.]

SUPACREE is a dick.

She's a dick.

[SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLU]

Whatever. Something out there asked for this.

What about your superstardom?

What about it?

Give me that.

Ugh.

What is this?

*coughs*

WHAt THE--

doctor sebi

maps.me

dissappear.

-blu.

Fall//Fly

(never)

capo 1

Oh I've never been so high in my life

Oh I've never been so high in my life

Oh I've never been so…

Lost in my mind, in time

Oh I've never been so high in my life

Oh I've never been so

out of touch

Oh I've never been so

out of touch

Oh I'll never forget to call again

Oh I've never been so

Out of touch

If i could love you a life time

And I probably might, I find

I'd give you all my light

(or none )

We'll find, in time

Which one

Oh I've never seen such love in my world

Oh, I've never seen such love in my world

oh, I've never seen such love in my world

Oh, i'll never forget to fall again,

Oh, I've never seen such love in my world

…Oh, I've never been so high in my life

Oh, i”ve never been so high in my life

Oh, I'll never forget to call again—

Oh, i've never been so high in my life

Oh I''ve never been so high in my life

Oh i”ve never been so high in my life

Oh, I'll never forget to fall…

___

4427 43 2900 5671

12/3 369

The question wasn't whether I wanted to stay, or go; in fact, I wanted to go, and to stay—but underlying and now, overlying, was the wonder of in what way I would spend my birthday. Did it matter? I wanted it not to, and yet, here I was, caught in the wash, and the album or book, or episode– whatever it was, that was coming about from it was meant to be called “Three Nights In San Cristobal” , but something was pressing me to get out, now that I had the certainty and assertion of what I was;

Then It just stops.

OH MY GO-

RUSKO aka “Christopher Mercer” is standing trial for the involuntary manslaughter of his roommate; He becomes famous in a nearby parallel for being the the first human known to have committed murder by way of sound frequency—

FUCK.

—little does anyone know…

SUPACREE headlines an entire festival during a blackout.

Was it bad?

yeah.

did they throw trash at me?

Only a little.

aww.

SUPACREE is a Superstar DJ.

Oh great, yeah.

She is possibly the best—

THE BEST

&, also/al

SHH.

“Bread's Dead”

LIVE KETO SET.

What is this.

just buy tickets.

What is it?

i'll buy them.

PAUSE.

AND THEN WHAT?

MILEY CAME IN ON A WRECKINGBALL.

You mean, “like” a wrecking ball”?

NO. I mean, YES, she was ON a wrecking ball, so– “like' but, WAS.

WHAT.

BROAH.

DID SHE COME OFF?

sortof.

WAHHHHHHHHHHHH

WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU ON?

NONE.

hey, look watch.

RELEASE THE KRAKEN.

YOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

got a new guitar;

got another gig

got a new guitar,

got another gig

got a new guitar got another gig

—got another gig

—got another gig

Well, now that I'm famous, it makes everybody seem more human.

The good ones, the bad ones–

Except for women.

Women are monsters.

I hate them.

You are them.

I was them.

NO, I wasn't.

Was I wrong for loving you?

(It's too human)

I didn't want to do this

It's so stupid

True,

I'll use it, too

“i'll use him”

“Cool”

I'm just a tool, to you, then.

Then, there was Justin Roiland, the unsung hero of them all–mostly because he wasn't ‘sung' at all, but mostly spoken–the amount of comfort his voice had always provided was, in the very least, heroic–if I understood the context of Poetic Justice at all, that's probably what it was.

But even he, in my mind, being all of consciousness at once, now, more often than not, had collided with the thoughts of fame and wealth, and what exactly it does; I paused hard upon reflecting on the ‘retarded' amounts of laugher that seemed to be unstoppable, as I formed the then-very-loose-plot of my own projects, or rather, the conglomerate of them all, which would eventually become The Festival Project

Perhaps, I thought, all that it really was is that I had been watching the final outcome of a ride I was also on, for all of them–however, as much as I wanted, I couldn't seem to forge the great gifts of The Prodigal Sonny, and as it turned out, I wanted either all of it or none.

Now that I was properly out of carbohydrates, I could focus on being somewhat hot, at least until someone with an actual body walked by or just happened along; I had somewhere along the way decided that women with perfect bodies were in fact not Gods, or rather Goddesses, but Satan in his truest form– as often and awkwardly from afar, I often watched as men would become useless and lost followers in their company, typically unarmed with more than looks– But, I knew at this point that the men I had so affectionately fawned after had climbed the social and even political ranks so much so that, The Actresses, The Models, The Musicians and otherwise multi talented women of the world– A world to which I may have once belonged, had my mother not destroyed my body– my upbringing clipping me with a 25-year-long inability to produce positive thoughts concerning The Self.

Now that I had properly shifted my self-hatred into Skrillex, which didn't exist as a man, but a business, I could unravel the rest of the infinite that was somehow expanding as quickly as it was collapsing.

Considering Luis was now seemingly preoccupied with the ugly punk rock girl, and now that I would be properly sealed-off from whatever truck stop…

Stop scratching

You look awful.

It's just because i'm black and I need my hair done.

Just cut it off.

Fuck that nonsense.

Why not?

Same reason I put clothes on: It covers up the ugly.

God Loves Ugly

Oh yeah? Well maybe UGLY just loves GOD cause nobody wants it so there's no one left to talk to BUT him.

“Him” ?

Or not.. Whatever. It's beyond the human concept that The God Consciousness is

*coughs*

whatever she wants.

Or IT.

Check it out. Another fucking demon.

‘The Demon Whisperer'

Demons don't whisper, they cough.

(Or pretend to cum)

Who does that?

Pornstars.

Models.

Whatever these are.

–truck stop travelers would pass through rampantly, leaving nothing but the trash of processed junk and coughing obnoxiously, rather than having to hang above it all in a hammock, only ever wishing for Skrillex so that I could fight the mosquitoes off.

I just wanted a home, and, though I was only joking about the mangoes, it seemed my faith was at least partially restored, as the room I had decided was the closest thing…

Suddenly, the ability to write, at least, as I had been–in this form, was vanishing; Of course, having to scramble to some effect to make sure that I wasn't listening to Dillon Francis–

Why, exactly, is that?

Why is what?

Why is Dillon Francis on The Blacklist?

Because.

Dillon Francis Made Me Laugh

AND DEN?!

Dillon Francis Made Me Cry.

Oh noooo.

Oh I love her.

This plot is so racist.

So is Hollywood.

IN THIS DIMENSION:

The Chinese Woman from Freaky Friday, and The Chinese Woman from Dude Where's My Car are actually the same woman–she just has two jobs.

HAVE–THREE JOB.

Oh, three jobs.

That's a lot, Mrs. Wong!

(Racist name, by the way)

—and, she's gone.

No, i”m not.

Get me off this planet.

LIQUID STRANGER

If you want.

Enter: The Psychonauts

His music had inspired the entire plot of Ascension…

I could be gone from it, but not forgotten or lost; at some point it seemed as though everything I had written hadn't even belonged to me…

Well, it was almost a thought process, in narrative form.

Then what happens?

This. This is the festival project.

Why'd you get up?

I felt I was being watched.

Well, you're not.

(But I was)

hy·per·son·ic

/ˌhīpərˈsänik/

Learn to pronounce

adjective

1.
relating to speeds of more than five times the speed of sound (Mach 5).

2.
relating to sound frequencies above about a thousand million hertz.

Now that I had nearly drifted off into an experience that was more in my body than out…

She's–immune to ACID?

In–

SUPACREE throws DILLON FRANCIS out the window.

Wait, what window.

It–doesn't matter.

DILLON FRANCIS [falling]

YES IT DOES

No, it doesn't.

((yes it does))

Oh–it does?

[Everyone nods, especially DILLON FRANCIS, who seems to momentarily stop falling as if he's forgotten he ever was.]

[Dillon Francis Nods]

Well then…

[He is suspended in mid air]

Really high up.

Oh My God.

[He hits the ground, hard. Surprisingly, he does not splatter–and luckily, appears to have already been unconscious. In the darkness, upon impact]

RUN.

Just then, I remembered who Ever was– who never was;

The daughter I had thought up and then forgotten under everything i had become;

The mumbling, stumbling drunken father I loved, only reminded me of the…

And…it's gone.

What! We can't add south park! That's too many plots!

Well, you're practically Butters.

I am–

[BUTTERS]

Mantequilla!

MORE TEQUILA.

Sacred Science: Ancient Egyptian

“It Doesn't Matter”

CC's new friend falls into an infinite loop, where SUPACREE flees for her life from superstardom and fame; He (Inwardly, also supacree—) and his friend “Kiwi” relay a series of messages through several various futuristic intergalactic languages and advanced codes, which CC, operating newly as “Blū” and DJ Ū in her full creative persona, has learned to decode through music programming hypnosis, and has developed a keen expertise in the studies of synaesthetics, and telekinesis.

Oh.

This is next level.

It's multiple levels.

Okay, heavy duty.

I'll roll one.

Oh.

[three overly attractive idealistic males enter The Vortex]

Jesus Christ, Almighty.

Oh.

I told you, sit here.

This is good.

I needed that.

— ‘I needed that.'

Nothing happens without purpose or reason.

What is “purpose”

What is “reason”

Oh, What's this

*Daddy*

Alright, I should get on with my day.

No, stay seated.

That's not fair.

NO, watch it—

Wait for it; Just wait.

He—spoke BIRD.

He was huge.

Gigantic.

THIS ISN'T HAPPENING.

Don't be tall.

I wasn't gonna!

Oh, no, no, no.

Everything was rock hard bodies and chest hair; The matted dreads of the friend beside me added adverse texture to the clean cut and very well-to-do-looking gentlemen who had against my will-to-wish, decidedly planted themselves parallel and just out of my line of sight, by peripheral—just so that to study them I had to sneak to peek at each of them, as within moments of spotting them all at once, as always, I could tell that each of them—with great respect, in their…

“PALM/CC*

MAAAAAAAAN— We waste time on SOOO much buuulllllshiiiiit

Oh, I get it.

This is illuminati.

You got it.

—in their own unique sense and in the proper respective realms—they each had something to give, and to receive, to The Goddess, most recently hidden and writhing in sexless pain–

Oh, My God.

What's this around his neck.

I don't know.

Let's see here.

Is it obsidian?

HE SPEAKS BIRD.

GO FOLLOW HIM.

I just gushed.

Don't be gross.

Oh no, don't open your mouth.

[The man begins to speak; he is oversexily foreign.]

Oh My GOD.

This dragon is going to destroy something!

She's going to destroy EVERYTHING. That's what she does best!

I had arguably never been so horny in my life, and nothing but the damage was being done, to my psyche and my subconscious ability to self destruct when super imposed upon.

@terrazadelarquitecto

She was wild, and wanted to know all there was to know to become and unleash the sprawling Goddess that had begun to take her Maiden form in the wash that was coming up into the shaken and awoke knowledge that was— they were all so perfect,

Sacred Science: The king of pharaonic theocracy

R.A.Schwaller De Lubicz

There he is.

Hey, there, sailor.

What the fuck is THIS.

How.

Why be that large?

Has it's benefits.

Christ Almighty.

Is that the one you want?

Is it, then?

Realizing I was being programmed to buy another something, I stopped myself from the influence of all that was around me, a playful gesture to indulge, by kindly rejecting the notion, in a push to finally move about my day; I was again becoming The Insomniac, or, whether or not I had known it all along, I always had been—which meant, in the suffering of losing my knack for writing anything and everything at any given time. \\

I am a sitting duck.

[Dillon Francis emerges from the water, gasping for every bit of breath.]

Don't look at that.

Mooh, my God.

It's in color.

Why is that—?

Now

What was *then*?

Answer this question,

No ,

Answer this Question:

Okay.

lol.

_

here's this:

What's this crappy place?

Harsh.

No, i'm serious. This is horrible.

Okay, ouch.

I mean it, this is bad.

Where is this?

Uh-

Why are we here?

This..is the bottom of my heart.

This is gross.

dang.

Wait. so you're saying

Yeah, get this

They literally went—“within”

Uhuh.

To the bottom of his heart, literally—

Yes, the inward infinite;

The literal material externalization–

The literal—yes.

And she's like:

“Ew”

“Ew.”

…Ew.

[SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLU]

I love the illuminati.

Why would you say something like that?

Look at this:

What are those.

They're not Crocs.

Are they diamond encrusted?

Indeed they are.

Is that gold.

Solid Gold, and Platinum; They're not plated.

How would you even walk in those.

I would not—

Because you can't.

I could, cause I'm man-strong —

I just would not;

Because it's ridiculous?

Don't use that word around me.

It is ridiculous!

No, it's a synonym of ridiculous, because ridiculous doesn't exist—Anyway.

Someone should put you to sleep.

I've Michael Jackson'd Myself three times since I got famous—and you know what I got? It wasn't sleep!

That's Off subject.

Nothing's ‘on' subject.

It's really *not*

I love dudes in weird pants. Period.

Still on the outside; Dead on the inside

Inside out and On my head,

Alone, my mind, along—

But on my own ride

A tribe of gypsies,

With me,

(or without me)

Living out loudly, and badly

But I was quite poorly,

Or worried, but good on the core

Wonder what's it all worth , with no surf

and no certainties;

copy + paste. ep

-En Ūtero [Extended] 6:18

-hopskoch.

-takitoo. 6:01

-43.

-and then what?

-Ū

C'ESME'T

Why are you walking me to my wild side?

PETRUTHEIO

Because it's my wild side.

[beat]

PETRUTHEIO (CONT'D)

–What if I gave you all my love?

C'ESME'T

Why would I want that much love?

PETRUTHEIO

What if it wasn't that much?

C'ESME'T

Then why would I want it at all?

he likes these games,

ain't no heartbreak

Raise the stakes

No harm, no foul;

It's an eye for an eye,

and and ear for an ear, here

She said “I live a fast life”

He said, “I drive a fast car”

but it wouldn't go far, no

It wouldn't go far at all, now!

I sometimes forget i'm famous enough to

just live out my life,

I forget i'm an idol,

I decided my mind is a diamond

I'm higher than high now,

Hey now, The Lord of the Flies Now

I might need to file another reliable lie

There's another way to settle down, now

Call it automatic, press repeat and need to eat

But need to breathe again

Can't keep secrets from the reaper,

Everything you need is simply

Everything you need is simply

Everything you need is simply green.

I sometimes forget i'm famous enough to just

Live it out, loud

But I don't want to go, now!

How about a round of applause—

cause I like the sound of it

Got a Dalmatian on the Greyhound

What now? I'm finally proud of my

Finally proud of my

No, I'm just finally proud of me;

Figure out how to be found

There's another way to settle down, now

Call it automatic, press repeat and need to eat

But need to breathe again

Can't keep secrets from the reaper,

Everything you need is simply

Everything you need is simply

Everything you need is simply green.

Black background, green Plus sign (insomniac sweater)

rarity. (purple)

-Ū.

mirissa g.pool

“fucking mosquitoes.”

I told you, you need skrillex.

and I told YOU to shut your dirty mouth, you hooker.

Hookers get paid.

Yeah, by Skrillex.

–that's enough.

I am the only one at my table;

I am the only one on my team

I been inside the box for so long,

that if you let me out, I might scream

I am the only crayon in the whole damn box

I'm the only sand on my beach

and I don't preach what I practice;

But I practice what I preach

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

yeah yeah yeah yeah

oh oh oh oh

yeah yeah yeah yeah

oh oh

hey

Do you have a problem?

Is it with me?

Should I pray the Lord

your soul to keep?

Should I call the reaper?

Or the state police?

Is it martyrdom or suidice if they write a press release?

SKRILLEX

You looked like a deer in the headlights.

SUPACREE

Oh yeah? well, you looked like a bat on a windshield

I'll give you ten thousand dollars if you can get that hat off her head.

are you serious?

15Gs if you can get it to touch the ground.

SUPACREE

we're playing a game i made up

TIM

We're playing a game *I* made up.

SUPACREE

I am you.

TIM

Now you've got it.

I don't know what just happened—

Okay—

But this lady just saw down straight into my soul, where a ghost lives.

You're a ghost?

My soul's haunted!!!

That is deep bro.

…And he's got music.

—So he's almost always gonna be alright

And she's got—music;

So she's almost-always gonna be alright.

You can go ahead.

It *is* funny.

I don't like it.

It's already hilarious.

Where are we?

Where *is* this?

And you will *never* find me.

We found you.

Eyes on God.

Oh My—

WHAT.

I'm *sorry* mom.

Why are you looking at *ME*.

‘Cause I'm SORRY.

Don't look at *ME* sorry.

Wait. How many people can I be at once?

All of them.

No.

Yes.

Watch:

[Watching.]

…Watching…

[Watching—gets knocked out.]

Now.

Now, you caught me in a bad spot;

I'm getting off in dark spaces

Come, come along now.

Way beside, but along on my own, now.

Tie your love down/

Tie your love down;

Oh, Now all the way out of the way

This is innosense, in a sense

Go down to the shore,

For the fun of it;

Come now, you got to

Tie down

Tie down

Tie down

Dive down

wide-eyed,

Humbled with pride—

While you're siding,

Colliding with Idols,

Confiding in no one,

and residing nowhere—

Nowhere to go,

If they don't care

‘Who are you?'

Now I'm getting caught in dark spaces;

I'm getting off in a bad spot;

Come, along now.

Along, but way beside all on my own now

In a sense, this is innocence

Down, Tie Your love—

Down

Down,

Tie your love, down

All the way out of the way, Now—

Oh!

In a sense, this is innocence.

I've got summer on my mind.

‘I take no part in the festival; if you look to kill me, I only ask that you do it quickly. ‘

What movie is this?

This is ‘The Insomniac”.

Oh, Okay well—what happens in it?

CREE?

SUPACREE.

What are you DOING here?

This is how I wrote The Legend of SUPACREE.

I thought this was “The Insomniac”?

This is how I wrote this, too.

Wrote what?

Just—

Just. Keep. Writing.

—And it doesn't stop for nothing.

It really doesn't; it doesn't stop for anything.

What is this.

Audio.

It's DJ Shit.

___

Bitch, what is your deal?

I don't have one.

Yes you DO.

My soulmate made a deal with the devil, He sold the soul we share for success, wealth, and fame—but did not include love in the fine print.

Watch this.

What is this.

It's a test.

It's all a test.

_

Open the map.

I'm not gonna do that.

I'm not playing.

Are you insane?

By standard definition?

By any definition.

I mean—

[Some Mild Insanity.]

I could be.

INSOMNIAC.

Who would do this.

Who wrote this?

Who's paying for this?

Now that the stones that I Carried for The Luminaries had grown heavy, I could not carry them all at once, and at the same time was also in the process of getting smaller; So small that it would become difficult to carry one or more of the stones in my bosoms.

Wow.

Control your self.

Wish I could.

For some reason the whole world smelled like sex; There was nothing but bodies in the ripe perfection of the perfect paradisiacal air; Sunlight reflecting off of each and every thing thing that was under it..The days were long, and the nights were almost a blur, but I was less concerned with any one person or circumstance beyond my own well being for more than a fraction of the moment.

But because I let it become funnier, all the while behaving as an omnipotent observer, it was unfolding quite beautifully, and very theatrically; I couldn't help but keep track of the movement around me, and how it related to my innermost reflections in this existence, seemingly everlasting.

‘--Now he's gonna cut the head off this bird, I guess.'

Owh.

This is beyond out of control.

Unacceptable.

The game hasn't started; the map isn't even open yet; Why are the refs making calls?

You are OUT of BOUNDS.

I'M NOT PLAYING.

This is so far off the map.

There's a secret passageway.

They LEAKED. The MAP.

All of a sudden, nothing bothered me. I was my own worst enemy, but now it seemed that I was magically washing away in my fears. Not far from freedom, I wasn't gone from the idea of what Love was, but was drawn towards a darker, more solitary cause.

What is this story.

I guess this is The Legend of Supacree.

I'M NOT CURSED.

I'm not SUPACREE.

Fair.

Fair.

[Heavy Skrillexian Accent]

FIAR!!!

You're are Fired.

I'm a- what?

So I pulled these cards.

Oh, woah, now.

Drop this, here.

I can't; Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

Wooo00000wwwoooooowwwwwwWW

Do you know who you ARE?

Do *you* know who I am?

Oh, My God!

I feel like that's an important factor.

What the fuck is this show?

go for the gold!

I told you, the whole damn cast of;

Sons of Anarchy;

what on god.

This all happened.

*ecstatic*

Ohhh Noooooo.

[TIS + LEGEND OF SUPACREE + GERALD'S WORLD = ENTER THE MULTIVERSE / LEGENDS]

key: live that long

maybe it's not my place

Maybe it's not my place

to say, maybe

It's not my place

Maybe it's not my place, to say

I'll just say grace, and clear my plate

My patience [is]

lol

You know what? I like cake, you bitch!!

Then eat some cake, you—

[a death glare]

—Overly-agressive person!

I guess I'm just Suspiciously Capricious

Kinda skittish when I'm in my kitchen

scripting this in Yiddish,

washing dishes in my menacingly hideous unmentionables

spitting shit I didn't get to send to—

…anybody interesting.

#skrillex

SEASON 6

ACT III - Part II

Oh no.

I told you, this was a bad idea

DONT CHECK THE—

It's too late.

“A Writing Assignment”

Fuxk.

This is bad.

I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS.

Well, it's Brooklyn—there's gonna be a fire escape and a rooftop.

This is creeper level 9000

Whatever.

Where'd the bass go?

I've lost my sense of direction

I'm mad I can't have you,

It's candid

I shouldn't be out here like this l

I should have gone to Manhattan

Are you mad, man—

At the mad hatter!

At the course of action in this rendition

fuxk, it is Skrillex.

I just went to look for Kayla Lauren.

Got hit with the other one instead.

“I insist, do it this way”

Better get a good picture,

Better get a good fix on your riches

Maybe this is why my scar was lighting up all morning

Maybe that's the reason I was off. Without my phone all day.

Maybe that's the reason I was fasting.

Good Goddamnit man,

You're awful good at acting

Awful good at grabbing ass,

And awful good at dancing

Awful good at making friends

And awful good at

First things first,

And first things last, and after—

Amsterdam

I never guessed where York was at

I never asked

I never asked

I never asked

FUCK.

What, man.

I think Skrillex listens to my podcast.

Well, that's, uh.

Fuck that.

Fuxk that.

Fuck that.

Well, that's one hell of a flex.

It's a pop up.

I just had a dream about surfing.

Better stop, God.

There might be a show for every day of the week.

I'm still weak in the knees.

I don't know what I need.

I'm still a mothafuckin Skrillex fiend.

Have a nice dream.

Have some ice cream.

There's the ice queen.

That's been three times since my eye started bleeding.

I thought I was just an MC,

Or a DJ,

I might take the soul train

But don't have a ticket

Thanks.

Now whose the dick.

Well , I'm just taking pictures.

How's Dillon Francis.

Now that's a priority.

I can't ShaZam from out here, you know.

I called my dad.

I thought you had no family.

Same thing as having no home, or,

No where to go,

I'm no homer,

I'm sitting here, hopeless, outside or your show—

Not hoping to see you, or anything

I'll be you, inside my dreams,

Sequels for everything

Sequences, sequins and diamon rings,

Sequoias and

I still have feelings for

I still have feelings for

Feelings for everything

This is the weakest I've been since I needed you

2019 was the year that the hero

Was broke

Well.

That's it.

What.

That's the whole thing.

Can't be the whole thing

Do you want to take a half, or a whole thing

Do you want to wear the pants, or the whole ring

Should I take a flight to France, or to Oakland

Stuck in a chokehold,

God, I'm too old for this

God, I just want to go home;

Here's a long rope to hang your self with—

Now I'm locked up in homeroom

I lost it all once, got it all at the pawnshop

For $96 dollars—

The original price tag, of course, read

$115 though.

I honestly thought I never wanted to see Skrillex again, but as it turned out— as I was, of course, trying to connect with closure, snooping into Instagram just to find evidence or romance, which I did—not that I needed anything more than a glance to ensure my own insanity—and it was that, insanity.

Don't do it.

—but it's Valentine's Day.

Don't do it.

Goddamnit, I hate this.

I hadn't been up this early without not having gone to bed since I arrived on the east coast; I woke up promptly around 8 with lyrics in my brain and music in my head; it had been a long and strange night, with no dreams at all—at least none that I could remember, and it had been long since I had woken up with anything in my mind besides fear and panic.

I refused to turn on my phone, quickly reaching for my notebook and a pen before the song would leave my mind—I had a lot of work to do, and for whatever reason I actually felt like doing it; I at least had the train ride to Manhattan to think about what I should be thinking about, or to unravel from whatever I was wrapped up in, even if it was just myself.

This is not a coincidence

This is not a drill;

Of course, now—

I feel like the villain;

To swallow Dillon like a pill

But In the end, though,

Nothing's real,

And nothing changes,

Nothing will

I should be working on my will

I think of jumping—

What a thrill

I'm busy thumping, humphing

Rumbling, mumbling about something

And someday never comes,

But Sunday does,

And Sonny shows up Monday—

I feel dumb, and awkward, suddenly—

I'm just an awkward cunt;

That's what the prophet wrote

Upon the wall

In Brooklyn,

Out on Broadway,

Where I was,

Before the fall off;

I gave my dad a call,

And then my son—

That's all that love was

I showed up with my whole heart in my pocket

What a long walk;

What an alter,

Whatever the sun does

When he doesn't watch

I'm Sasquatch,

But it's water, starch,

And crunches

‘This is not a coincidence.'

I had spent the day before, valentines day, combing through my belongings meticulously—I was due to check out the following morning, and without much thought I had thought of another extension, which would of course diminish the last of my money, but at least warrant another couple nights safe and warm.

I hadn't made any sense to look for a normal job-not only would the process or getting hired take up all the rest of my time, but it would be two to three weeks before I would receive any kind of paycheck at all—and with such little time left living indoors, It didn't make sense to try.

I had been stranded in New York since a arrived on the 4th, and though it had nearly been two weeks, I hadn't any luck in landing any gigs or performances. Jetro of course was still waiting with Blame Society records in Rome for my arrival, I hadn't even thought to notify him of the lack of such, as I partially blamed even alerting him that I was on my way via instragrwm for the flight delay that had caused me to miss my train, which of course caused me to miss my plane, landing me stuck in a hostile, cruel, and homeless USA.

I carry, or

Hold no stones for you;

Haven't I a heart left

It's the darkest of all the hours,

And here you are, again—

Not near, or far,

But a bet is a bet,

An eye for an eye

And a head for a head

And you're so far ahead,

I've yet to catch up yet

I have a gift for your daughter,

Often, I've thought of her

Lost in New York,

No glass houses,

It's just brick and mortar

She calls me retarded, my mother

So I haven't called her

I just keep running north

I just keep running my mouth on this podcast

I just keep thinking that someone's my long lost love, at last

You dirty bastard

I'm an asshole:

Handsome, Hanzel is

In case it mattered

Everyone's a fucking actor

Look at that girl

And look at that

And look at that

And look at that girl

And look at that

And look at that

You took my whole world

Turned it upside down

And bottled up my love l

You never told me where the bottle was

But showed me what a model was

And after that I fell in love with

Something about doing drugs and

Coming up with love to give to others

Turning pigeons into doves

And wishing I could just be nothin'

—cause my life was fuckin loveless

—and I thought you were my husband

(Fuck Kayla Lauren;

But I guess I gotta love her,

Cause she's human)

I took my time getting ready, no time, actually, in comparison to how slowly I had been moving throughout the week, and although I had been to the gym daily, I was worn, and tired—and coming up empty on all fronts. It was 10:14 or so by the time I finally made my way to the subway, ‘I'm still off', I thought— but not only couldn't I depressively sulk and lay in bed the way I thought I would or even maybe wanted to, I had been lifted out of my sleep and on my way to Equinox with a startling force—though I shouldn't have at all been suprised; this, whether consciously or not, I realized, had always happened when it came to the matter of the mysterious Sonny Moore.

‘Fuck'

It was late evening Monday before the anxiety started to set in, and for some reason had been the reason I had decided to turn on my phone, to extend my reservation another couple days, buying time in comfort and warmth, on the freedom of privacy, which I had done nothing with but rest and try to be whole again, whatever that was—and whatever it meant. I had been cooking for the first time in months, stretching, and meditating the ways that only seemed to come natural when having my own time and space —and though it wasn't wholly my own, it was clean, peaceful, and quiet—included it's very own space heater, and was decorated in my favorite color blue. My host was an actual working professional who had succeeded in the entertainment industry—which of course made me jealous, but I at the very least had done my best to network and perhaps nitpick an easygoing cash job out of it “I have some connections”, she had piped—and so, with that in mind, I had sent her my links; and of course, with my extension being the reason for even having turned on my phone, was quick to check my text messages to see if there had been any movement with the booking agent she had supposedly sent my information to. “I gave him your Instagram, and so he'll probably reach out to you through there if he's interested.”

I hated Instagram and it seemed to hate me, even before the devastating discovery of what a Kayla Lauren was, it had always seemingly been algorithmically programmed to make me hate myself, always spamming my feed with skinny white girls with blue eyes, which I only hated, admittedly out of bitter loneliness—the guys I seemed to like and fall for had always seemed to go for that type—white, skinny, blue eyes or some variation of the “ideal” standard of beauty, especially by Californian standards—and so I had always taken long breaks from it, shielding myself from self hatred: my absolute theory becoming that Instagram was an algorithm built for population control, preying on the weak and insecure, and probably attributing to more suicides than anyone had noticed or cared for.

Lil biiiiiitz

You know what else is weird about New York.

People eat on the subway.

They eat in the train station.

They just—

It's kind of gross; at least to me.

Of course, the trains in New York are a lot cleaner.

Sometimes the station even smells like bleach.

That's so cool.

Still don't want to eat in there.

That's weird.

INT. CHAUNCEY STREET. SUNDOWN |

VALENTINES DAY

BLŪ waits patiently for Instagram to download, sighing heavily as she waits; As it has finished, she rolls her eyes and opens the app, squinting and pursing her lips as she quickly checks for messages: only adds, nothing important.

BLŪ

Of course, no messages.

Psh.

She exits the app, thinking for a moment before re-opening it.

Don't do it.

SEARCH: Sk—

INSTAGRAM

skrillex

You never learn.

BLŪ watches the story, for the most part, unenthused—until

TONIGHT:

BROOKLYN NEW YORK.

BLŪ

AGH!

The phone flies from her hand and onto the bed as she seizes, flying back and hitting the wall with a thud—then dramatically backing up into the closet, closing both doors and exclaiming in the darkness

BLŪ (CONT'D)

I'm gonna die like this.

OH NO.

HE'S IN BROOKLYN?!

RIGHT NOW?!

SKRILLEX

I'M IN BROOKLYN. RIGHT NOW.

WHY WOULD HE BE IN BROOKLYN. I'M IN BROOKLYN.

(heavy New York accent)

I'M IN BROOKLYN.

(even heavier New York accent)

I'M IN BROOKLYN.

(*hawks loogie, spits*)

[very ugly cry]

I was expecting to see some cheesy picture like I had just a couple years before—or however long it had been. So much time had passed and I had no doubt there was still more and that I wouldn't be seeing Sonny tonight, or even anytime soon—still, I was headed towards the rooftop to collect my stones, and though the tickets were sold out and there were said to be none at the door, I was headed for the train before I even knew why, or what was happening.

Well, he's out of the basement.

BITCH

GET OUT THE ATTICK

I'm in the closet now,

I had a heart attack,

I'm in a panic

You need a manual? This is a stick shift

This is some sick shit

Click click, bitch

I got witches in automatic

Automatic

It was 11:11 AM; I had never been to Manhattan so early before, at least not from Brooklyn; I knew my way to Equinox Sports club easily by now, without getting lost, or much hassle; it was an easy one hour train ride—and this morning, even easier; the writing came automatically, rather than forced, as it had been, and the ride went by almost too quickly, despite a full train and a flurry of emotions I worked heartfully to keep in check.

‘This changes nothing.' , I thought, more awestruck than anything and trying to convince myself nothing had changed, though something certainly had. Manhattan looked even better in the daylight—clear and sunny, and even a bit warm; babies in strollers and dogs on leashes and for a moment or two, I might have even forgotten I was homeless, dropping 2.5 Jimmy Fallons on a piping hot coffee at the shop I had always passed, but was never open.

I would be at Sports Club until close, as I had planned to be all week but had always fallen short of, struck with jet lag and crippling depression at the same time—but today, and even if it was for the best that I couldn't seem to get exactly what I wanted, If even just out of sheer disbelief, I had at least been shaken out of my tomb, if only for a moment, and into work mode, still grieving the self I had lost in the collision of stardust and superstardom, fame, and misfortune—tears still on the brink of rolling down my cheek, and the cost of sicccess a grueling question burning somewhere between my still bleeding heart, and somewhere in the back of my mind.

‘Its like a fucked up cheaper by the dozen'

And I still haven't frgotten about Dillon Francis,

But Sonny seems to fuck me up a bit,

—and then some

It's just an addendum:

I flipped the script and went dumb

Here's my number, Christopher Columbus;

And a bumper sticker

Still a nigger

Still a nothing trying to make it bigger

Still a little off my rocker,

Like I bought, at Cracker Barrel

I'm still scared of marriage,

Mind my manners, like Harriet Tubman

Somebody's up to somethin'

Better suck it up and get some crunches in

Before I go to lunch

And jump from too high up

Or hang off of some bridge

Just to get to the dimension

Where it's Skrillex in the picture

With Dillon standing next to him,

And I'm just in the middle,

Front and center

With an Emmy Win

An Oscar nomination,

And a Tony, where my Grammy is:

A curio cabinet I had custom fashioned for my bathroom;

Next to the magazine rack, actually—

Where I'm on every cover wearing fabrics I myself imagined,

shining like a dragon eating laffy taffy;

Fuck,

I Suck at mathematics,

—But I finally got my masters degree.

Nice.

Jeez,

It would be tragic to have it all go up in ashes

Lighting matches just to get the smell of gas to shatter—

Or to dissipate,

I estimate I'm 40 minutes late,

But if I make it,

I'll get naked on the plane,

For heaven's sake.

What the fuck is this.

Some Sunnï Blū shit, I guess.

“I guess.”

I'm still mad at the world,

I'm still mad at your girl, for being better than me

So mad I could hurl,

But I'm still fasting, actually;

It's intermittent,

In a minute,

I might turn to Skrillex,

Talk to Fred Again

Then take some medicine

And finally finish, like-

“I did it”

Oh look, it's Fred.

Yep.

Oh.

Hi.

It's Fred Again.

That's me.

Oh.

Hey there.

It's Fred..Again.

Fucking a.

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

Alright, Jimmy—you sick sonofabitch.

JIMMY FALLON

—just kill me already.

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

WHERE IS IT.

JIMMY FALLON

Where is what.

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

YOU KNOW WHAT.

JIMMY FALLON

I don't know what.

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

—my medallion.

JIMMY FALLON

You were wearing a medallion?

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

I'M ALWAYS WEARING MY MEDALLION

JIMMY FALLON

How am I supposed to know that

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

there's only me and you here—

JIMMY FALLON

you know what they say—threes a crowd—

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

Listen, Jimmy Fallon, you illiterate motherfucker!

JIMMY FALON

I'm not illiterate; I'm very well read.

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

oh yeah! What was the last book you read?

JIMMY FALLON

…

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

…that's what I thought.

[beat]

JIMMY THE MOBSTER grabs JIMMY FALLON by the shoulders abrasively

JIMMY THE MOBSTER (CONT'D)

WHERE'S MY MEDALLION, JIMMY!?!

JIMMY FALLON

I DON'T—KNOW!

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

YOU DO KNOW!

JIMMY FALLON

NO, I DONT—you blindfolded and kidnapped me!

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

I kidnapped you?! C'mon' you're like 50-

JIMMY FALLON

I'm 42.

JIMMY THE MOBSTER

—I snatched you.

“Snached” hm.

I like that.

MEANWHILE, in HOLLYWOOD

This is a serious job…

It's a job.

A serious job.

I'll take it.

Wtf is this dude into.

Whippets and women—

Like every-other Hollywood nigga

Stop using the n'word.

It makes white people uncomfortable.

Imagine what it's like being called the n word like it's your name.

FLASHBACK

BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA

PRODUCER

YOURE JUST A NIGGER SLAVE.

(That actually happened.)

Anyway.

As you can see, or might have guessed,

I'm desperate for attention,

Sonny followed me to Brooklyn,

But never even mentioned it:

I should have figured he was listening,

When I heard Renaissance,

And lost the mixtape that I did

That Skrillex took it off of

Glad It didn't win the Grammy

I'd be mad if it had. Cause I was on it!

Not Exactly.

Swear to God,

I might have lost it,

Heard applause and started walking

Nodded off,

And woke up in a coffin

Coughs,

What a photographer.

DILLON FRANCIS has been buried alive, inside of a coffin.

I love this scene.

He really is a good actor.

(In my mind.)

Dude, you are creep level 1 Billion.

Whatever, he followed me to Brooklyn.

I am you.

You know what,

That is something I would do if I was stupid rich and…

And what.

I had fallen in love with Sonny Moore, not at first sight—but at first glance; it seemed he had been quite literally tossed into my broken and shattered world, and—

What, I'm an animal!

Did you fuck?

Should I have?

I would have.

I know you would have.

I'm not Annie;

She is pretty, and fun;

An addict, an alcoholic

And formerly, my other half

When I was one,

But now I'm half of half of half

And then some;

I've been numb,

I've never felt like this,

Since I've been struck.

I guess if I drink,

I'll be a big drunk;

And If I die before I ever wake

I'll be in big luck

Honestly,

After Kayla Lauren,

I didn't give a fuck

Been thinking of jumping,

Then something hit me like a big truck

I love eating.

There was some sort of event on the basketball court at Sports Club; I had been there already two entire hours, and spent most of it in the sauna, still followed by coughing people, I knew I still wasn't out or the heap of madness or broken from any spell or curse it might have been — and it wasn't fair, I wasn't fair skinned, and it didn't make a difference at all what had happened; I still wanted to end it.

I'm losing my mind again

Losing a light again

Losing my light,

But if I run to find it

I just might

I just might

—I'll fly like a kite.

He's trying to kill me.

He's not doing a bad job.

Don't know what i'm working towards;

Don't know what i'm running for—

Don't know about Sonny Moore

(He's not for me;)

Or so I thought before, therefore—

I take metformin

I'm still homeless,

Searching for a metaphor,

An aquafir,

And somewhere to plug my phone in

(Better than being ignored and drinking tap water,

On the fourth floor)

Housing is a human right

I hate this place

It's just not right

I'm sick of fighting

I'm not racist;

Just not fucking white enough

To run for red and right;

I guess

I'm blū then.

I could be crying in the sauna.

But I guess I'm writing you a message

It's just a bullet in my head

It's just another lesson

It's just another test, at best

It's just an algorithm;

Go back to my nest

And rest for just a minute

This is season 6 of Legends,

Now I'm turning to a villain

I keep coming up with Skrillex,

But I gave my heart to Dillon

Here's a tiny violin;

It's getting violent since intermission

Ultraviolet light,

And impolite fixations,

Revelations,

Realizations,

Revolutions,

Reservations

Let's set a date then—

Is it fucking coughs,

Or is it Satan?

I hate this.

You would want to jump in front of a train, too

If for years. No matter what you did or where you went

People came around you and just started coughing

That's such an evil fucking thing to experience

For someone who never wanted anything

But to be loved

But was always too fat

Too black

And just altogether too anything to ever experience love, joy, and happiness the way

other people do

And so, it must be hell

Cause all I do is love, and love, and love

And just get shit on

And coughed at

And called retarded

And falling short of success

I'm not heartless

I just carry rocks around

And get followed by coughing bodies

My life fuckin sucks, man

I just want to turn the simulation off,

And on again

I just want to take a long nap,

And wake up in the arms of a man

I just want a booking manager,

And an orgasm.

And a ham sandwhich,

And my land back,

And to be happy

Or maybe like half a xanex

Wanna throw myself down on the train tracks

I want a can of spam and pancakes

Like breakfast made by my dad

I want to hold hands,

And a whole home, with a landing pad

Or maybe just an address, and a gas lamp

Or a campfire

Timestamp that.

This is the third and final act.

I can't fall for this again—

Another rich and handsome man—

A dream he wants to be my friend

A dream he wants to hold my hand

Oh look,

Another dance for anthem

Look,

I'm just another fan

No, I can't fall for this again

—but they would go against the plan

A simple programming error,

Lips the color of a pomagranite

Circle on the palm,

And then , of course,

We press the center

And look, here we are again

Another life,

Another love

A new wife—

Another husband

Honest?

I'm just good with fucking

—aha

I just want to fuck you

I got love, but what it good for

Look at me, or look at nothing!

Look,

I'm just good with fucking

Check the news for new engagements

Fucking sick and fucking tragic

Nothing more than actors,

DJs, drinks and addicts

Look,

I'm just a happy accident—

I still hate Dillon Francis

And I never wanted Skrillex:

That shit never even happened!

Have you had enough yet?!

Carrot cake does sound good

Ten karat long engagement ring—

Is that a lot?

I'm just a homeless

Look, I'm just another DJ

Some fake model stole it

Some would call it occult Magic

—honest?

I just want some dick, man

Fuck it

—aha

I just want to fuck you

I got love, but what it good for

Look at me, or look at nothing!

Look,

I'm just good with fucking

You know why you like me?!

Yes, I know why I like you—

Cause I'm rich!

—no, actually—it's because you're smart.

Where in the fuck are you going?

I don't know yet.

Well, know faster—we have company.

Fuck.

Destroy every bit of evidence.

Ok.

—and make sure nobody sees you.

Yeah, right!

YO.

Why the fuck are you here, Timmy?

I told you, I'm not Timmy.

I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money?

It's— it's on the way, I promise.

I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy.

What do you take well to?

Money.

FUCK.

What!

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!

What?!

We're too late, she's gone!

Goddammit.

—She was already here!

FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK!

>>> FUCK!

How do you know?

—there's glitter, everywhere.

Is it gone?

It's gone?

ALL OF IT.

TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX.

Etto, Timmy?!

Oh shit, another Timmy.

That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex.

Why.

Timmy, put a shirt on.

That's it.

What.

You can't be hot and play the trumpet.

Why.

One thing's gotta go.

THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet.

WHAT.

Can't have both.

Well, I don't really need both now, do I?

When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5

—something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space.

I don't know.

I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5.

Almost.

But, I noticed—

Working out to deadmau5 is strange.

It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me—

Not just notice me.

People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing.

And it's usually something regular as fuck—

I'm just doing it to deadmau5.

And for some reason, people are like

“Wooooow!!”

Okay, whatever.

I used to work out to Skrillex.

Actually.

I used to work out to only Skrillex.

I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex.

Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine.

I started to figure out I was kind of famou—

Kind of—

When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on

I'm like

“This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials”

But hey,

You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for.

It's very hard.

The crazy thing about this story is—

There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually.

EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY.

Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin—

Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts”

Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot!

So?!

So I know you got it goin on! Look at you!

I'm mad rich!

Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes.

My girlfriend might be cheating on me!

Yeah—She's not, though.

How do you know?

Cause I tried!

Yeah. Take your shirt off.

No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you!

Because! He tried—

HE tried!

You sell out.

And Andre tried—

[ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome]

—you too, bro?

[ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly]

That's an NBA player—

What the FUCK, YO.

—and she said NO.

ANDRE

Yup. Shot me down.

Oh really—from all the way up there?!

Face it, man! You're fuckin hot!

I don't like the way that sounds coming from you—

Take your shirt off!

Were you this aggressive with my girl?!

Don't be like that…

Nah— fuck you!

Yo! C'mon, man—

And you three!

You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood!

It's Beverly Hills!

—Exactly my point!

You're new here—you'll catch on.

You know what!

I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on.

[SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”]

Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history.

For,

As soon as the moon is full,

She also begins to wane—

And as sure as we are to shine,

We also fade away

I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last—

—but they would both be delicious, anyhow.

The seagull said.

“To the sea, we go!”

Overhead, he flies

As the day goes by me

Idly, I wait—

I could take a ride,

But i'd rather be

By myself,

By my…

INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT

You gonna order?

What you got?

Empanadas.

Just empanadas?

—Yeah.

Okay, that's weird.

Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy.

Right.

—weird.

INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY.

Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station.

Ew…

Yeah, my god.

Wait—is that—

—sunni?!

SUNNI drunkenly groans.

Sunni! Get up!

Ughhhh.

What are you doing?!

I'm drunk.

I know that.

You're always drunk.

Yeah.

What are you doing here.

What.

In the subway.

I do this sometimes.

What. For what?!

You never know who you're gonna meet.

In the subway

On the floor?!

YeH! I met R- Kelly down here!

What!

When was this

Not at this station, though, but yeah.

To think,

It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs—

And in the end, if you don't make the cut

They just make you kill yourself, anyway.

Love isn't real, but money is;

And all men want is money,

So they can buy the love—

And all women want is love—

But it has to come with money

Or it all just falls apart

It all just falls apart

It all just falls apart

“Illuminatus”,

Open, close

Illuminaudio, for starters

Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters

What's a brother to a sister—

Or a mother to a father?

What's a stop sign to a car,

If no one's driving?

In the end, they kill you off

In the end, they kill you off

With every cough, they kill you off—

But there's always another

Who wants to be a star—

Or just

The mother of his child,

Maybe both

Genetic lotto luck

—the cut off.

Agatha…

A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light–

…We Meet Again.

FUCK. WHAT IS THIS.

I know, man.

FUCK.

Fuck.

Well, are you gonna tell this story or not?

This isn't possible.

It is possible.

This isn't happening.

–

This dude has a radio tower in his front yard.

That's his front yard?!

I fucking guess.

What is that.

That's a satilite.

Nice.

Yep.

Alright, you son of a bitch.

Hey! My mom's nice!

Not that nice–bringing you here.

How do you know that's how I got here?

Exactly my point.

[cocks pistol slowly.]

You're dead, mouse.

OH.

I GET IT.

kill that motherfucker.

Wait. Hold up.

Hold the phone!

Holding.

How did we get to this point?

I mean– a few ways.

What are you watching.

SHH.

Wedon'tknow.

SHHH.

OK!

SHHHHHHH!

IT' getting good.

Ya. It's getting deeper.

So much deeper.

WAit.

…

Who are you?

I'm a fan.

No.

How did you get in my house?

It's my house.

It's–

–no.

No, it's not.

YEs. this is my house.

No.

What.

GEt out.

SHH.

What.

DUde–

No.

Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet.

IT's getting two deeper.

–like nine deeper.

SHHH.

Oh, I get it.

She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis.

#FuckDillonFrancis

Uh, no–

I already did that.

Gross.

Excuse me.

You are excused!

I mean, I beg your pardon.

Please, don't beg.

Er, uh–

Could you repeat that last part?

Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck.

I have a time machine.

Are there any loopholes?

There are loopholes.

THere better be loopholes.

Sorry, we're out.

GodDAMMIT.

What.

I was really looking forward to those loopholes.

Well, they're gone.

FUCK.

HEre, have some

Oh-Noh's.

I don't want–

Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL.

Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex.

There are TEAMS?!

Oh, yeah, bro.

Oh, so–it is a love story.

I don't think that's what this is.

I'M GONNA MURDER YOU.

Ok.

WITH MY DICK.

A-1.

There's something I need to tell you.

What.

But i'm sworn to secrecy

Then how am I supposed to–

Just–shh– follow my lead.

“The Magic Effect.”

Did it work?

Don't know yet.

You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days.

Ok…

36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days.

…What's your point.

This is ferocious.

I have your entire internet history.

All of it?

Oh yes. All of it.

Welp.

Well.

THat's it for me.

I've had enough.

There's no Skrillex Deepfake.

Aw. that sux.

Why would you look at this?