[For Your Consideration.]

posh.

—tried to record the vocals with it but apparently either my interface or my computer—

Whatever

—Money.

-U. ft, Happy Accidents

Dunno when I'm going to be able to do vocals next so here's the instrumental, the lyrics. And whatever else was in my notes when I was in producer mode with my documents open.

Amen

posh. (Instrumental)

Happy Accidents ft. -Ū.

Actually I was thinking about using my Srs Blk Alias.

[serious black]

// srs blk.

Whatever there's robots outside my door coughing right now.

Here go the lyrics.

Fucking robots.

This is just a fad

Why you mad?

What is in my bag

(Posh)

I am just a fan

Why you mad

You are not my man

This is just a fad,

I make dance music cause I can

This is just a fad

Why you mad

(Keep it classy)

Posh.

I am hella bad

Do the math

You are not my dad

This is just a fad

I make dance music cause I can

I am just a fan

Why you mad

You are not my man

This is just a fad

(Dance)

Posh

This is just a fad.

Facts.

{Enter The Multiverse}

I don't think I like anybody!

That's right, I'm not looking.

Mis it possible to be asexual

Google?

Now,where should it go?

I don't know if I'd quite cal it asexual, just…disinterested in the general population at large.

But you're in the general population,

Exactly.

I'm in need of a pillow pet.

Have you tried toys r us.

Do you know how weird it's going to look for a 40 something year old man with zero kids to walk into a toys r us and ask for a pillow pet?

So you have thought about it.

Are you stupid?

Not as stupid as I ought to be

Lay on the tarmac.

What.

Just—lay in the tarmac

For what?

I'm going to run you over with an airplane.

…that might work.

“How to Kill An Immortal”.

It's that time of the day

And the day of the week

Where my mind goes awry

(So long, sir)

And my heart starts making the wrong turns

Cross eyes, ten and two

[Atomic Number]

cross Eyes, ten and two

Cross your heart,

Or don't

(Goodbye, sir)

Goodbuy, good sir

I just bought a pony,

I want a fruit roll up

My internet due tomorrow

(Go finish the album)

I just want donut

Good morning

Hot topics

I've got much more to show for it than you're onto.

Than you're onto

Than you're onto—

Honest.

Don't stop there, dog.

(Atomic Number)

Thats no crosswalk

Purchase you for favors

For favors

For flavors

Four flavors, are there

But I've only got my whole eye on one of them

What up then

Don't call the number

Oh, God damn

Go run, Pharoh for you want an arrow out of your head

Free hand and heart

I thought I was a musician,

—I'm not though;

I stand 44 stories tall

When I stand right behind you,

Shadow.

Small man

I love McDonald's

I got a long hat

I got along swimmingly with your mom and dad, huh

Data

data projects and the atomic number

That's all folks

Data projects and those atomic numbers

Cosmic stardust, they all shook

They ain't lie, that's a hard pink turn purple

They ain't lie, God, that's a mellow yellow saxophone there—

They ain't lie, god, brought tear to an eye where there are no more,

Heart took a wrong turn

They ain't lie, God,

It is bright plumb

Are you in a black hole or what?

Are you shook for stars and all bout dollars?

Are you sure that had my name on it?

Are you sure, or are you all talk

All you sure, mom? Call the doctor.

Are you sure at all, at all, at all about what you all wrote

I'm on the 44th floor staring off, Dad.

Straining heard, though—

Had my eyes closed and my mouth sown permanently shut / sh it

Is that your industry or something?

Is that your window out my car door?

Is that your hand over no heart at all—

But a chest stuck out;

Bring you down real fast when I've been humbled.

Goddamn, when's this song over?

When they tell you about God, God

And all you do is turn your back, God,

Are you good, or bad, God,

If all I have is in this Target cart

So I crunch numbers,

Fall in black hole songs, atomic number—-

It's just that time of the day

And that day of the week where I call out

Into the sound stage

Reaching back,

Into my alter,

Rocks in my pocket

And one at the Plaza

One year only,

One whole summer

One whole novel,

10 movies, more songs,

Light candles and hard rock, Nirvana

Soft porn,

No dollar bills,

No ballers,

— I struck rules and struck diets,

Followed often around like I own something

I just might be,

What they call

—Ten more songs!

(A poet.)

—And a whole bunch of unfinished—

NO—

Cut to:

fade in/

Fade out—

Whose line is it anyway?

I ain't got no teleprompter!

Fresh out of water, and

Blocked from purchasing on Amazon market cause

Something is wrong with my name

Or observations I once made

About being scammed by the monopoly

Oh, polyamorous polyaddixt, polysexual

Polygons, on PolyGod,

God only—

God ain't lie,

It was plum,

Closed my eyes to confirm, God,

Can't conform, God.

Atomic

Number.

I can do ten more before sundown; before

I'm so over tired from espresso bean coffee,

All about a dollar, I was—

Everything I want in my target cart

So I sure don't,

For sure don't,

Ever, On God,

Have to walk in the supermarket on

Stuggle mode

Slow down, posh.

[The Festival Project ™]

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Telesynthesis

Tell me why,

No matter how you mix and match these scenes,

They all make very exciting episodes.

That's just how it is.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Ah. more posters.

Double-Double.

//

L E G E N D S

I don't know who lied to you, buddy, but you are not white.

They lied to you, boy.

That boy ain't white.

Look at em.

He ain't white.

They lied to you.

Something like—

—a bicentennial bullet wound.

It can't be that bad. You're only 50x

I don't know what else to do about this other than prepare to die.

He said it would come on fast after this.

Who was he?

I don't know .

Hm,

Just—shut up!

Okay.

Shutup!

I got it, I got it…

Fuck, this dude is gonna kill me.

We can only hope that's what he plans to do.

Anything else, and I'm double-fucked.

Maybe quite literally.

I can't handle that.

Ii did have a good time a Bohemian Grove.

How do you even get tickets to that?

Early.

Goddammit, how did he do this?

Are you not like self aware of your own environment, or?

Not if I don't have to be, no.

Is everything okay over there?

Yeah, everything's fine?

Fuck, what happened?!

I don't know.

I fell asleep holding nothing; not stones at all, however, I awoke with The Illuminati Stone and one large rose quartz from a dream in which fly po

What if all I lost

Was a contact

And all you wanted

Was a daughter

What if our world's were opposite

I'm a rockstar

You got nowhere to run home to

You're not important

I got nothin but hot bodies

On my tour bus, or private jet

Whatever way we get to the stage

Where i'm playing

You're soaked in rain just thanking God for rainbows

Filled with pain

Plate filled with old food

From Whole Foods,

With no shame

“Hey. at least it's wholesome”

I'm holed up in my studio making music

With famous people and no names

I made famous

Playing a game that I made up

You don't even know the rules of

But if you learn them in time,

YOu might just be where I am

Or

You might just die

From sucicide–

That's the plan

Not like you have family, but you see

If I die

I might just take 5 lives with me

The limelight's tricky

All i got in my inbox is tits

And celebrities on my timeline

You don't mind:

You're just happy to see the sunshine

And find silence after a long day

And a long night

Trying to find life–

Cause so far you know you died

That's wild–

So did I,

IT took awhile to get to the other side though

Keep trying

JAGUAR

I HAVE NEVER DIED.

I'm telling you RIGHT NOW to TURN BACK.

TURN BACK? I've been walking in this direction THE WHOLE TIME.

EXACTLY.

I'm following you.

DON'T FOLLOW ME.

I'm f–

DON'T FOLLOW ME.

I knew i would never see her again.

Once i turned around it wasn't long before I realized, I had moved in the opposite direction, but was not in the same place I had been before–and I finally remembered.

You can't go backward.

But KA, you said time travels in all directions…

In Infinite directions.

What's the difference.

“All” is just ‘some' things. Infinite is everything.

Oh.

*sighs heavily again*

Ok. [beat] lets make fire again!

Make fire again?

Yes!

I thought you hated ‘making fire'

I did, but I like marshmallows.

Alright, marshmallows.

KU and YOUNG KA Flicker in the smoke and shadows of the firelight in a far and distant, dark cosmos, as constellations form around them, expanding outwards into galaxies beyond comprehension.

You want some?

No, I'm not fond of Marshmallows.

Lol

Lol

Lol.

WAKE UP.

Nooh.

I told you NOT TO FALL ASLEEP.

Now you have to start over.

NO.

Noh

I wasn't asleep! I barely nodded off.

Clock starting.

First of all, I told you.

Dillon Francis is a Psychopath.

I know that.

Because i told you that.

I already knew that.

How could you possibly know.

Just look at him.

[Dillon Francis]

But I got you now, buddy.

What did he do to you?

[pause] –He killed my cat.

He killed you cat?!

[beat] Well, no, but–

???

Something Like That.

I'm gonna have a heart attack.

PLease don't.

HeART attack.

Mm. That was good. But it needs more force.

More?

Put some *love* in it.

What's that? *shrugs*

HeART ATTACK.

What the fuck is he doing.

PLaying with one of his alter egos.

Jesus Christ. How many are there.

Who really knows.

What are you two dipshits doing.

NOthing.

Training.

Training!

No.

*eyes*

You can't train yourself.

Woah–

Woah, woah–

That's an insult

Both, exactly the same

We are not the same.

Jinx.

Go fuck yourself.

*looking at watch*

Not until 3.

*everyone stops and stares*

You schedule your jackoff calendar .

I'm very busy.

Obviously not busy enough.

It's called “building stamina”

Do you use “home” or “work” for that.

I use candidly.

Yikes.

Wow.

Anyway, this scene is running long; I gotta walk off screen and say something clever, for continuity.

But it's only 2:15!

If you're not early, you're late!

I hate him.

So does everybody.

If you cry one more time,

I'll actually kill you.

Put the gun away, dude.

Why?!

Cause you're crazy.

It's 5 AM.

Ok.

Take your shit and get off the toilet,

We have shit to do.

[beat]

FLUSH.

Royal flush

I win again.

Dammit.

This is not LOVE. This is just

LUST

AH, fuck it though,

I love these cunsluts.

COME OUT OF RETIREMENT.

No, not us.

I can do nothing but watch you suffer

—suffer the little children unto me

I can do nothing, but watch you suffer.

—suffer the little children unto me

I can do enough, but watch you alter

Suffer the children unto me

I can do nothing of earth, but of sun—

Suffer the children unto me

Riding through Brooklyn

With Yelawolf bumpin

I should be thumping to something else but

I never got the trunk to open

Nope, I was fucked up some

Broke girl summer

Broken girl summer

Surfs up, though

Copestetic,

I am

Don't stop writing

(I tried)

Intuition

I died

Whoever

I am

Exit Bedstuy

So far behind,

I'm ahead

What's that like

Left the pary,

Fuck that line

Partly cloudy with a chance o

Get UP.

Nah, I'm fine.

For the most part—

I just

When does this train stop?

For the most part—

Where the fuck do I get off this ride?

I guess I don't

For the most part

Sure,

I miss my mom but

Some days she's up

And the others

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

HOW?!

I will literally FLY you out, just

———————————————-//—-wait, come back.

Wait, you can't just cut the strings like that

That's amazing lady

(She painted like a Mercedes)

The second rule of time travel

Since you're clearly a rule breaker

2. Don't get hit by anything moving not fast enough to kill you

Entirely and completely

A fuck, which Brooklyn is this?

JUST—time TRACWL

BAMANAS.

(William H. Macy is SIR, now)

*face*

Ok, I'm cool with that.

Better hold that thought—

And your phone

Why what's up,

Cause I can hear my train a coming.

JIM(I)

Well, I guess this is it.

Are you sure

Almost

Yeah, I'mmma get this real quick.

I AM A GOD.

No, yur not.

RICK! GET DOWN FROM THERE

WAIT, you CC saw this movie, right?

Where IS your center of balance, anyway?

It's not.

GET DOWN, KITE.

——aaaaand—

ITS GONE.

Let's just be real, I don't know how this happens.

Best keep it that way,

Now whose hot and toxic?

I'm the talk of the catwalk

The cause of the kamikaze

Come for me

Suddenly my nausea's gone

Imma run off,

Like I should have the first time

I'm up

LUKE SKYWALKER

I'm LUKE SKYWALKER.

Bitch.

It's hard to believe

That I, too,

Could be in the window

This could be an innuendo

This could be an instrumental

We should get going

Go to work

Fuck, am I still in a movie or some shit

Or some shit.

Fuck the glasses,

See my face for this

IT WANTS BANANAS

GIVE IT BANANAS

GIVE IT WHAT IT WANTS M

PLEASE HELP ME.

*with a monocle*

*running fingers grubbily*

For how much.

*grimaces-*

Wow, they really picked this little girl out,

Just to pig party you

I know.

So where the fuck is this again?

EXT. HELLS KITCHEN

I DONT THINK HE's a good man

No,

I don't think he's a good man at all, now

All I see's a child,

And that's why

It's just getting wilder it here

Now I'm in the water

(I can't drown)

We all need a savior

How about now?

How about a round of applause

For the audience

That watched the whole performance

And don't know what the words to the song were

Right on.

Tell me why

American girls just

Get too cynical bout this.

Why so hypocritical?

We got A+ in robotics

Now we got

Animal Products in

All of our water

We got Islam R US in

Jansport backpacks

That's how you rat out these assholes

That is a terrorist practice

So who's gonna watch that shit

Over and over

And wish he could have that?

So

Whose in the water now

Once you cheat once,

Then it's all

Void after that

The God of the void is annoyed with you

I just anointed you all with oil

You're so fucking disappointing

It's just

Innapropriate

Well, turn it off, then!

Did you work today?

Guess not,

I'm too useless

We work, you know.

Your music is stupid.

That's how good you look:

Music producer

No words for this.

Here.

What.

I want you to carry this.

Mariah, or Jim?

Got it.

OK.

OK.

OK, YOU WIN.

That's RIGHT,

STUPID BITCH.

I'm o—

Fuck that little dick nigga

Broh God bless Jah Pharoh living up to his last name by reminding me that I also need to run.

True facts.

WHATS IN THE BOOOOOOOOWWLLLLL—

Ing green?

More dead people.

Please, if you would.

Eats—people?!

Onlympurple—ones.

Are you serious!?

CUT TO COMMERCIAL. CUT TO COMMERCIAL.

Ok, damn.

Wait, so how long do I gotta be—

Everybody.

Till it ends.

When's the—

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

What's In the box though?

Idk. Get in.

Blue eyes, it is.

I wish, I wish,

Be careful what you wish for,

Or cook in a Petri dish

The world is a stage,

The people a plague

The magic was gone,

The days were the same.

[The Festival Project ™]

Blonde hair, blue eyes;

Live once, lose twice—

Brown skin, brown eyes

Die inside.

(Or just die.)

{Rewind}

Captain

Captain!

Oh, Good, come in, Cannon.

You've—changed.

…as you know, Monday we disembark.

Yes, I'm aware.

And as you know, the details of the mission have been classified, even to us.

Yes.

I find that alarming. And so, without anymore thought I've decided to masquerade as my old self.

How old are you, anyway?

You should never ask a woman her age, LT.

Sargent. * or the other way around, I clearly don't know.

Sorry. Your recent promotion keeps slipping my mind; I…haven't been myself lately…

Obviously not, if you've decided to publicly dress like that.

I'm still very much in the privacy of my office.

You can consider me the spokesperson on behalf of the public.

Never as a woman her age!

You're not a woman; you're my captain.

We'll see about that after tonight.

Being a woman, or being my captain?

Both, probably.

Hm.

By any chance would you be interested in joining me?

As your subordinate, or as a man.

Both, probably.

Or neither… presumably.

As my escort.

I beg your pardon.

I've been known to become rather out of sorts in this condition.

—er, your condition, captain?

Dead drunk and blind with fear out of my mind.

[he ponders for a moment, knowing that the mission could very well be their last.]

Consider it done.

Great. Get dressed, and meet me with the car out front in half an hour.

Half an hour?

Sharp. Bonus points for showing up early.

We're earning points?

We are now.

Very well then. What am I wearing?

Something sharp.

Sharper than the inside of a half hour.

On your mark.

I'll—see you soon.

He exits the captain's office, letting out a sigh of relief otherwise previously congested, he looks around as if not to be caught, regains his composure with the shake of his head, somewhat in disbelief of what he's witnessed. He casually places his hands in his pockets, walking down the hall and passing one of his crew mates, who quickly stops to salute him.

Sergeant.

Almost forgetting to salute back, mindlessly drifting passed in ‘off' mode, he slowly and squarely, almost still casually, salutes back.

Oh.

I had glimpsed at a picture of the man once more that had forced me to wonder— “Jesus Christ, is he okay?” It would be odd to think of a man who has spent a better part of the last two decades and most of his careers on camera as unphotogenic, then again—I had been tricked by the media before into thinking a certain way, and therefore was cautious, and still—I began to wonder about the man and his misery, and his mistresses—not out of jealousy or obsession, but simply because I knew he had them. He was old Hollywood, or old New York—or maybe a bit of both, and there was something about it all, perhaps even my own darkness, that danced with the flicker of sinful lust that motioned me towards not a yearning, or the act of doing so—I was at least wise enough to know nothing good could come from doing harm to oneself or another— but with the intensity of burning desire to know the man behind the mask—the actor inside the actor, to whom all the world's a stage.

Whatever, though. Doesn't matter.

At least I was still somehow youthfully resilient to what might have otherwise been torture,

TVP

S2- after Esha's promotion to head writer.

DAEMON DALLAS, aka “DASH” is a quick witted, fast-talking comic powerhouse— his legendary stand up and acting career has made him a legendary force in movies, film, and television; he has been booked on the show to sit down with his longtime friend Patrick about his new stand up comedy tour.

—

Who's this beautiful sister.

My head writer; don't even think about it.

I dont think. I just do.

Esha approaches— Dash politely bo s and kisses Esha's hand

Should I get tested?

—and funny.

Against Patrick's wishes, Esha accepts a date with daemon dash, furious Patrick means to interrogate her

Why would you even date that asshole

Because—Pat. He's a comedian.

I'm a comedian! So?

So, he's funny.

And?

And he said things to me—

What kind of things

Charming, funny things—

Okay?

Things he wouldnt say to you over dinner— because, I'm

—you're a woman.

—and your head writer. So naturally.

Esh, you're a genius,

So is he. We have—some new material to work through.

Ahq!

Your monologue tonight.

Oh yes. Oh yes.

You can thank me later. Broken bottles. :9'd one stop her

Walkin walking

God knows I don't belong here

And I don't want to

Passover was April 21-30

Global War on Terrorism

Aka WWIII

Oh, indeed.

Don't look left

Take a deep breath

My heart beats differently

I think it might be the end

I think it might be

I think I might be the enemy

The pushing mechanism

When i breath him in

I levitate

And gravitate to what it meant

The sake of the art,

The hurt of the heart

As sacred as it ever was

The turning or the Torah talks of

Gestures, since the fall of Rome

The toga on the alter

Solid hands unwrap us all

From falling over

Old and awkward

No award for wisdom

No rest for the wiser

No love for the troll

Since thunder struck from under us,

Delivered all but what we wanted

So we talk of karma sutra,

Surely we can't talk at all

Of what we know

As once was bonded

Laughed it off

To come from what

The call to us,

Fair serve governors fortress

I work up in mentions

Carved the scarlet letter out of

Cannons, of course

MA.

WHAT. I'm BUSY.

ITS ON.

The what?

The show we watch!

The one that—

YES,

Oh, my GOD.

Yes.

YESSSSSSSSS.

Usnavi, get your popcorn

This is some worth watching

Up in arms for forwards

Causing sore arms,

Numb thumbs

From crucifixes

Are you wondering what God

Would walk about the horned carving

A kamazake walk of tall corn—

Follow me, dear mantra

Your whole house is watching.

Sacre.

It's happening again isn't it.

I do want ice cream.

All I need is a divorce

And an Amazon woman 10 foot tall

To rub me off at the stroke of

Nevermind what the clock says

In God's house they're all wrong

The blsphomoous for Catholics

Has begun,

So strum your number into the teleprompter

And just hope no one gets hurt

By the hook on the next song

—like the hook of my last surviving bra

digs into my back does,

Or the skin on my lack of tummy

Has rubbed off under the suicide

Of the cycle—

It's getting tighter

A loss of interest is equal to

A loss of conciousness

And I'm 21 days drunk

On the alternate, though—

I'm sober and feeling less

Loved.

The animal I've become is all cardio

And karma sutra

For karma comes

To the weak of heart

To use the world as swords

To cause harm

To the calm artists

I thought I told you off once.

(Already)

You look awful.

lol.

You look terrible, broh.

But my album sound fire.

#producerholes

[portal]

It's coffee time!!

It's not coffee time!

It's not coffee time.

Iiiiits coffee time.

Damn.

Where's the cat.

Gestating.

My phone was never the first thing I reached for in the morning—but I was sure there was something missing in my mind from a place in LA that I used to frequent, that sold giant frosted cookies that were also vegan. There was donut friend, which I always enjoyed and craved—but I was sure—absolutely sure that I was missing a m cookie, and it was absolutely driving me wild that I couldn't think of the place, or find it on Google. Has it been before turning vegan? Was my memory failing me in thinking that the cupcakes and donuts that I had often brought back to the hostel in boxes were timetimes cookies also? It seemed like there were cookies…and I'm sure that there were, as I could remember the thick frosting often being sweet and decadent enough to lick from the top, and that the bottom cookie was sweet and soft, and usually warm—and that I almost always couldn't finish the cookie in one sitting. Had this all been before I went vegan? I was sure I distinctly remembered sitting atop my bunk at The Freehand savoring this cookie, but a google search yeikded no results—none that I could find familiar, and it bothered me so much that I actually decided to start my day just on the tip of figuring out what it was was.

As I crossed through my apartment, realizing I hadn't bothered to throw the trash out after mopping and went m directly to bed early, not with the consideration of rising early but really just out of exhaustion, I had decided that in order to get work done that my workouts would have to be pushed toward the end of my day, somewhere between still having the energy to manage and not being disturbed—as I had seen that girl to at I very specifically didn't like again m, I had realized that again, I was correct— even after an hour of working out, I simply didn't like her energy. There must have been something wrong with her—or incompatible about us altogether; she had come into the gym quietly and was sort of hiding and even still, I had instantly recognized that there was a foreign energy—and squinting to see her, saw that she was crouched on the other side of the gym. I dismounted the stationary bike and figured that an hour of cardio would be enough for the time. Strength training would only force me to crave protein—-and I was running low saving everything that I had in order to better strategize an arrangement which didn't leave me at the bottom of New York's merciless barrel. It seemed I wasn't going to get the job at Equinox after all—it had been nearly a week since my interview with them, and having not heard anything back, I realized that everything, no matter what—was always just a game. I needed to figure out how better to play it before my life ended abruptly on some sort of whim.

Sitting down in the darkened bathroom, I realized that in order to restore and keep my energy, I should be unseen, and unheard.

‘Keep your head down.'

I'm sure there was some type of code or rule for the way I should handle myself in public or even in private all well knowing the types of things I had writtten about, let alone which had been published—and while I planned to clear out what written works had made it into cyberspace unchecked, there was nothing less important to me than the actual world, what it expected of me, or who was in it. I hadn't entirely failed yet, but I also hadn't entirely succeeded, and after a strange series of dreams— almost all of them more interesting than the one with the cookie, (mentioning that the reason I had been curious about the cookie in the first place was from a strange series of dreams)

“Ohhh, you know what—that might have actually been that place in Vegas, before I went vegan.”

The boxes at the freehand must have been all from donut friend and Sprinkles—and it astonished me how much of a sweet tooth I actually had which was sort of now quite well managed. There was no sugar or even salt in the house— and with the lack of food that I actually had in my apartment, for at least something like the next two weeks, I was sure that I'd reach minimum weight—absolutely minimum weight— by the turn of the month. That is, all the weight I could lose betsides what needed to be surgically removed, and there was some sort of plan formulating somewhere outside of myself in exactly how that would be achieved. Because at any rate—I knew that it would.

There were no more cookies, no more donuts, and no more cupcakes, besides the occasional box of the frozen type I had ordered from Amazon fresh which I did thoroughly enjoy, almost always in one sitting after a wild amount of cardio had implemented a faster metabolism and brought me to the realization that so much cardio meant that entirely that I could eat ‘whatever in the fuck I wanted' without gaining any weight or even losing it—and as I stepped up to take a shower, pulling my shirt up and over my chest, I inspected my abdomen, though holding bloat from pinto beans and deep fried sweet potatoes, still toned with the definition lines I had only just now learned that I had, creviced and notations of my sometimes 4 or 6 pack abs, though hidden under the sagging skin of my once maternal belly— still evident at all, and a factor of my minimal pride in that I had gone in one lifetime from one body and into many others— and one day, an even more drastically different one.

I fantasized owning a peloton but realized that I may have to settle on a rental until I had outfitted myself with some sort of safety net.

lol there's a sweet potato emoji. wtf.

I don't know how you did this but—

I woke up.

Apparently, I'm Lorne Michaels.

Please stop.

I don't know what that means.

You know what

If I was pretty

Nobody would hate me for anything

I swear to God only ugly people are punished or any or all of our matings.

I lost the ability to see worth in myself.

I also lost the ability to write good songs.

Just let me watch bad girls club

And wait for the motorcycles

To make my night

A living hell

“I didn't mean for this to happen, Jimmy Fallon. “

It was a whisper, actually— less than that, as I set the stone with the others above the amulet— I placed easch crystal carefully at the alter, keeping only two of them for myself; the rest, as guardians to the amulet. I could no longer keep such a relic around my neck; it had become quite heavy, and the dreams had become deep and more illusive, and it seemed there was some dark spirit along to it after all—and after all— the amulet was my only living son's, anyway, intended as a gift and charm of protection for when I next saw him—whenever that could be, or would be. It had been a long and interesting but altogether uneventful year, and now, not even feeling right in my own self, I intended to continue hiding, and perhaps even burrow further away until I was granted a full and proper divorce; my ex husband using his refusal to sign the papers as a final act of control, and though I almost found it admirable, I only became more dismissive of it—the person I was then, simply was no more; in fact, she was dead enough indeed that to disappear and become a ghost could do no worse than to further alter the course of time and distance it would take to ever become in such a way again—that is, if it were infinite, and for peace of mind and freedom of spirit and soul from bondsge, insisted it wasn't.

It was less than a whisper enough that none other besides God could have heard it, and yet it seemed something or someone had—as a door quickly slammed as the words—words which meant a name I was sure I would never say again—“Jimmy Fallon” left my mouth. I couldn't come close to words at all let alone a name, and especially not a song; but then, of course, there was The Book of Knowlege never to have been spoken and as always, the ever moving truth of songs— There were other Gods that new no words at all besides the melodies and rhythms of our hearts—and there never really was every truly a Jimmy Fallon at all—

Only myself.

Whatever the fuck.

Alright, alright.

It was next in the que with purpose, probably but quite on accident— Now I could continue in my pattern of dulling my brain for the remainder of the night as I had been all day. Since March I had seemed to cry what I thought were the rest of my tears, and however, after a particularly mind numbing day of trash television and Olympic surfing, it seemed the ocean alone was enough to pull from what was left of my soul, and as it turned out, it still was there.

I was bored of the brokenness of New York—something like living in a rotten and spoiled toy, with the limits I had been given—and though I should have been happy, to finally just have my own place— the people surrounding, as always, ruined it—

Them being myself aside. I wished the things outside of me were quieter.

Now I could finally almost put my mind out of focus for just a little bit longer—and creep on Johnny Depp without doing it intentionally. I had stopped looking up famous people, besides some women and businessmen I knew could never feign my interest anyway. It was never about money— and always about creative intelligence; I hadn't seen the movie as an adult, and so I was sure it would have some insight to offer. I tried to forget that I had aged out of almost everything—and that my mother had so greedily destroyed any real chance I had at becoming what I might have been with anybody else as a mother—or at least some one around to watch her raise me and correct her damaging actions, words, and harsh thoughts. At least she had taught me to read and write—and if worst actually came to worse—which it was starting to look like—how to trade my body and time in exchange for things I wanted and needed. All women were nearly prostitutes in some way, anyhow—and the only thing deterring me from it was on every honest God I ever thought of, the fact that white women made more in sex work than colored women did.

— it almost hurt to watch Olympic surfing.

Actually, it did.

It hurt, a lot.

What's a girl

Have you ever had a girl before?

What's world when you're wound up in an orphanage

Probably astounding

I've got a shadow

Sad, should have danced with him

Now he's so mad that

—I don't even touch my guitar

No more

I have words

No songs

The whole world's

At war

And to surf

— you need water

I love

New York

But hate

Thus corner of Brooklyn

I want to go up

Testosterone

—I've got a word for the goner

“Gonzo”

I've got a cannon

Or blonde, for reference

Why were all stalkers

I'll book The Tonight Show,

I'll summon up Carson

A ,

I promise—

A good time was had

—I promise, no subtle obsession.

I made a decision, I went with it

Just a protagonist, actor—

A comic

Producer, by marriage

I swear,

It's just adding up evidence

If ever gets intensities

Offensive, this illumination

— I don't doubt you.

I want chocolate milk

What even is that?

I've been eating healthy

I've got half an album out

And half inside my head

With Donnie Brasco

I've got half a million dollars somewhere

Stuffed inside my cunt, I think

With hallmark cards and shopping carts

I owe them half a fortune

I hate it so much

I watch a whole soul

Come out if television

I love it so much

But I hate the whole public

And crowding

I don't want love

I want fucks

I want puppies

—Jesus he's beautiful

My ex husband had similar facial structure to

Mr Depp respectively,

I'm guessing my artistry,

Intention,

A preteen obsession at least sort of paid off.

Somehow.

Now it's my eyes on the other, the older

—

The way that he sits and does nothing but slump

—Al Pacino, they call him?

The false father and forced profits often acknowledged

The love of the old and weathered.

For once I woke up to a record

33 rotations a minute

{Enter The Multiverse}

—what are you gonna do?

Blondes and shit.

The best of the best—

—I'll tell ya,

I recommend it

(Recommended by a Friend)

I have a headache twice my age.

I made a mistake half my life ago

Woke up this morning

Bought myself a gun

To make it right

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

{Rewind}

XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix)

[Bootleg] Uptown A

The Complex Collective

Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017)

“The Rescue”

This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks.

This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it.

You will need:

½ medium size had of cauliflower

½ medium to large yellow onion

½ red onion of the same size

½ white onion, per reference

1 whole celery heart

One fresh turmeric root

1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later

1 stalk baby boo choy

3-4 medium sized carrots

¼ green bell pepper

⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley)

⅓ red bell pepper

⅓ yellow bell pepper

⅓ orange bell pepper

½ can stewed tomatoes with onion

½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic

(This is for broth flavor)

One whole vine ripened tomato

5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference)

About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth)

3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight

½ cup finely chopped fresh dill

½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro

¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano

½ lime

½ lemon

Crushed red pepper

Sea salt

Thyme

Black pepper

Part II

Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art

and…

Something tells me

Something's not all the way right with my head

I'm

Lost in my mind,

I'm

All the way here,

But I'm still

Somewhere off a bit

Velvet, the skin,

I'm just as sick in my head as I ever,

Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition

—this handsome nigga smells like red licorice.

(It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.)

Zeroing in and away, heroing hard

For your heroine,

Heroin veins,

Pigs on the wing,

Singing your song

Hearing your cry out

Fly out my miles, my son

Come into my arms, mine oath

The love, some trouble

Heavy was her heart,

Lied to cover

Still shattered,

Ravine ions, cosmos farm

And Wanda's black eye

Timmy's wishes and

SpongeBob's shallow grave,

Oh, how high I got

That Arnold's lost love

Was actually

Strangely enough

Also his narcissist,

Probably also practicing witchcraft

And exorcisms of him.

Scissorman, Scissorman—

Get a load of this one;

Frog and toad, a couple laughs

Behind the masks,

For this world.

Would you honor?

Give your blessing, butter

Different wages paying,

Listen, shallow author:

You would write but then not follow up

About the actors?

The actors!

The actors have had it.

I'm

Just

As

Badly

Damaged

As

I ever was

And listen, Awesome told me

Your story

I chuckled

All the way

Up until

The literal punchline

Now,

Go home;

Go hike Runyon.

For a few hours, we can pretend.

That old haunts

Don't boil up

They always have, of course

But you know

Nothing quite as pungent as

What's become of yours

[I love my son.]

There it is again,

As if something had called her,

There, more words

But less of them than the tongue could offer

Swear you, listener,

Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness,

and weary travelers,

Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances

For pleasantries

And of course,

Dessert trays.

Cause I wear—

—We all know.

If anything happens these days,

It's because I'm a comic.

(At some point)

Sunglasses before the sun's up;

Eat candies before it all melts

Warm something as download comes

To fight or fold,

To win or die

To live or lose

Whatever then

First time flying

And I've got

My mind blinding me out

Deciding for once

That I'm not the whole world

Just to have the experience

If being surrounded by others

In some way.

The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you.

The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already.

I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think.

I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things—

But I'm thinking of ending things.

How selfish of me.

First time flying

Sunglasses before the sun comes up

Halls on my tongue

And vitamins in my pocket,

I shuffle over and over in my mind,

The millions of dollars

And all that I go through

Just to skip post,

And go home to no one.

But—hello there

No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as

This poster is,

So aware of what's there, and near you

You've begun to fear it

Well, then,

Hands in my pocket and down

Dawn to dusk,

Shaking my head,

Drunkenly, but stone sober

Really no one told me about the poetry,

But a whole world opened,

Inside of your notebook—

Which I stand holding.

Pleasentries, sick dissent,

Indecent exposure.

And body odor this early in the morning;

Gotta love country folk

Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older,

The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye—

Here's to hopes

The Hellicopter is all I know

From here to Hell and back

Westward bound,

The Sun rise behind us

Sunglasses and no sun yet

My eyes reminders of times

I remember

Sure you did, sir

I been there

Suffered the whole coast

And I'm still not sure

You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now.

They say this airport is known for its art installations.

You don't say.

Grandiose to escape the algorithm,

Tapped in with the captains hats

Fit six of my guieapigs in the business

1 transsexual,

And 6 women

3 biracial non-bianaries

Some accused extra terrestrials

You left me home, but —

Nobody washes the whites without me.

It's OWSLA again.

[The Festival Project ™]

It's mid week in midtown

I fell asleep at a business meeting,

Thinking in sequences,

Drinking in increments,

Sweet, sweet music,

Death and television

Television

Celebritism, star power

And no wonder

Early October vacations

From power fortunes tied to us

We want Redbones,

Resonated chambers,

Thankless sacraments of disaster

Are you archived?

Damaged and the flatline

Comes at such a heavy decibel

Your arms grow numb and

Start to stiffen;

No wonder you're not paranoid

Inside of our religion

The Eye

See i,

Excuse me miss—

Did I miss it ?

Plea, I

Give thanks,

Again for

—this is our tradition

Me, I,

Seek I

—-meaning to make sense of it but,

The might,

She died, I guess

The center of my kitchen

Distressed from attention deficit disorder

Sure, Marsh

—Whatever doctor .

He was just the type I like

Milky silky white

Sunglasses

Slicked back hair

Thick round thighs

High fashion—( l)

Sun baked

Pose to take a selfie, right?

Just the type I like;

Milky silky white

There's the girl that'll do anything for ya

But she's no body

With nobody

No good, I

In fact

So ugly l you could choke on just the thought of her

Even with beer goggles on

But she'll do anything you want

And like it—and it doesn't cost

She'll fall in love with you

(For not even a single dollar.)

[The Festival Project ™]

Now that we —

{Enter The Multiverse}

Ahem.

Part III

Day trip

Take a nap

Change the map.

Pet the cat

Let the dog out

Run a lap

Pitty Pat

Pitty Pat

Pitty Pat

Pitty Pat

I Pitty Pat

I Pitty Pat

Broh what up with these Dillon Francis clones tho.

How do you know they're clones?

They can't all be multi dimentionals.

They could!

You never know; they really could.

I run these robots

Into dark corners

Just to honor me

They come scurrying and ugly to annoy and ponder upon me, all the while praying l, my mind on

Don't mind those, they're broke bots

I haven't l l stopped my work to finish

Work on

[The Festival Project ™]

I'm sure by now you've noticed

The only people in

Champion sportswear and

Jansport backpacks

Are ugly, slow,

And weak

L E G E N D S

(I have noticed.)

If attention deficit is forsure your destination

I'm you're designated courier, or carrier pigeon

This isn't ingidgenous reparations or explicit subliminal messages,

But if it is, this is suggestive your direction is correct and attentive

Listen to this shit:

Case dismissed;

Next time I'll fly direct

Hit my line if your eyes are dilated

I'm miles high,

So if it rejects,

Just leave a message

(Eject!)

All of a sudden,

I'm somewhere else

(With him)

He pulls on the rings

On the back of my

—what was I wearing again?

I should have stayed home in the first place

(You don't listen)

I should have stayed home in the first place

(You don't—)

I should have stayed home for awhile

Cause before hand, and I'm wild

Random foreplay,

Orgasm,

Desire you,

You're right, I don't listen.

All of a sudden, I'm gone with you.

Those women in Santa Monica,

All perfect and in hoards and by the handfuls

The type celebrities get

Celebrities need,

Celebrities want—

A shrill reminder

Or what I am,

And can often lose focus,

Drawing back on icons,

Sifting through the skin I feel,

Entrapped by circumstance

And perhaps, even

Some terrible curse, or

A shield of protection.

—the deathly hollows.

It almost felt as if I'd never write again, but here I was

Nearer somehow to a strange fame,

The end of famine

And feast of none—

Doubling back upon

Something I had recorded

In this experience,

Alone and awakened,

Moving in automatic,

Chaos and charismatic,

felt, but never intertwined

In the awesome circumstance

Of wanting, no—

Needing to be loved,

And never having been;

Needing to be touched, and never having felt

The grip of sorts,

The higher bar taste of something I had become famished,

The sense of a calling so sacred,

It beconed to my sea,

The only one,

A diamond in starry skies

A night of dawn,

But dark, the thought

The ever present one,

Never loved,

And shallow kind

Shallow breath,

And putrid thoughts,

Reckoning the wilted flower,

The springing seed,

The calling of another and yet,

Here I was,

Tolerance,

At her mercy—

Fearing none but knowing,

By the handfuls they come,

And drawn like magnets

Into my being,

A focus,

Nonesuch art none otherwise known as

My hell

The bodies of women

Perfect and priveleged,

Sunbathed and worthy

Of everything I wanted and needed

Without working at all.

I wondered harder, fasting.

Soft lips upon his Adam's Apple,

I drift away in his chest,

Dreft, the smell of michielf managed,

Then, the music of songs loved

And garnished with sprouts of June

In the coming of spring,

Does form another,

Again, my love

I call for mercy

The pain of yours needing born

And my heart estranged

Mercy

Her eyes were darkened circles

And body brittle;

As I admired her courtesy, charm

And delicate stature,

Arose to connect this,

A tune—

So sung to tell a story

Of Rocky Racoon

Irish spring to lather his back,

In bar form;

His burgundy Mercedes Benz has had parked in my garage,

And I, not able to trust his drunken judgements,

Captured his keys, as my mother and I

Had worried for him,

Dissappeared again into the night, and yet—

At least the keys and the car

Were safe with me, at home

As was his,

Whenever he wished to return

My strange and far love

Nearly since almost nothing

Screen doors and Fischer Price

Office calls and casting agents,

Honey bees and biopics

Telephoto lenses and

Semi autobiographical pornography

Marriages and suits to match

A name for Vegas wedded lie,

A love bloomed from birth,

Cherished insights in the water

Reservations and yamakas,

Simple and sacred,

The undone village,

The thought of nothing but one

Until another does pull the string

To which I had once known as harness,

But had since cut,

Only watching to strive,

Seeing the dance one makes for one to distance,

But only dangling, seeing not that I

Had come free and was wary of

All love, by now.

All men, indeed.

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

For the second time in recent happenings, the scar on the inside of my bottom lip began to swell and heat up strangely, as if it were activating in some sort of way or still healing—the scar itself was almost 8 years old, and in fact— would be 8 years old with the coming of springtime. It was a strange sensation, though not entirely traumatic— and while also fighting off some sort of infection, my body in entirety wasn't altogether well, but the mark to me stood out anyhow, as just the other day after leaving the craft store, the scar had lifted bizarrely, swelling as if some sort of creature under the surface of the skin had been moving around just enough as a reminder that it was there at all—now, something like a week later, it began to tingle and heat as if it were in the process of mending itself, and though when it had been healing, bits of skin and pieces of my bottom lip which had come loose after my bottom row of teeth had gone through nearly to the other side— not quite puncturing all the way through, but enough to indent the outside of my mouth with some bruising and swelling reminiscent to that of having once pierced my lip; in fact— the damage was so apparent that it had created a swollen enough tunnel on my upper lip, where my canines had created marks to make make it easy enough to re-insert new jewelry into the old piercing which had closed over time, and now had been halfway reopened by the blunt force of my teeth connecting with my ex's fist. In fact, I took it well enough that re-piercing the old upper lip didn't hurt at all, and almost made it seem meant to be. Then, in my mind—I was still fragile. Six or so week postpartum and still heavily lactating, with severe depression after having learned of the infidelities committed throughout the entire duration of the relationship had left me in a frenzied state— I worked almost around the clock after being hired at the local veterinary clinic, the doctor of which I had known since I was seven years old, and who had been happy to hire me, and after having already lost something like a hundred pounds, I took to the job considerably well, completing my daily tasks to focus my energy and the duration of my shifts to running the boarding dogs, often saving the larger breeds for last—the greyhounds and labs, the retrievers— so that I could run as fast and as hard with them as I could, and with each dog, a set of squats, windmills, and burpees and jumping jacks before running each pup through the obstacle coarse in the yard, never eating on my lunch breaks really, but only ever stopping to pump milk— so that especially when running, I wouldn't create a mess. I had always over-lactated, even for a short time supplying milk for other children, and in particular—my very best friend, whose choice to quickly resume drinking after her son's birth dissallowed her to continue breastfeeding, and either way, I had more than I needed, besides the occasional lot added as coffee creamer by one such who had discovered the magical and medicinal property of fresh breastmilk.

I was, of course, considerably smaller than I had ever been, probably since the fourth grade when procuring such a scar— and it only seemed at least somewhat believable and fitting that, when asked about the heavy swelling and bruising on my face and lips, that I had been hurt so tragically working out on the pavement— having falling doing pushups, or burpees, or something—to which no one seemed to have reason to believe otherwise; I had, after all, taken my level of fitness to new heights, and, after having lived so much of my adult and adolescent life anywhere between 250-350 lbs, once peaking at something like 380 or even more without the actual knowledge of such (always being asked politely if I wanted to know during doctor's visits, and of course, declining) my chaotic and frenzied state after the realization that the entire fabric of my relationship had been a complete lie, made sense to the outside world—and though without the bravery to actually admit to what had happened, the Doctor, after scolding me for not completing my daily tasks, just the day after this scar had been created, seemed to have let me go, not because of the actual incompletion of my duties, but as a harsh reckoning with knowing that I had lied directly to her face about what exactly had happened to mine.

The years homelessness that followed was due to the eviction received after having lost this job, and though with steady and careful recovery I was able to break free from my abuser, the lack of family support and financial stability combined with this legal eviction on record would see my struggle as a survivor of the physical and psychological violence which occurred over this, nearly a decade's time, seen by the outside world as an antagonist— a sick person, a derilict, a disgrace. It would take years for the truth to surface and as it had, the strangeness of things began to occur as not things in my mind, but things in the world, which were very real—and though while still in harsh denial of any such things besides other, ever having happened, it was this that remained, this scar—now strangely heated and almost swollen as if again I should be reminded that this scar did indeed mark a death of sorts, the life after which had all been some sort of strange dream; a walk through the afterlife, sometimes carried on the wings of angels or even driven by chariot of The Gods.

— Death of a Superstar DJ.

Lights fade,

Fade to black;

Sacred stones and crystals cross eyed,

Just across I,

Desire my mark;

The finish and the start line are one in the same

So as soon as I finish,

I start.

Part I

Do not disclose your location.

No address, I guess.

Stressed and headed for some sort of war zone

I'm sure,

No entitlements and I pushback,

Push to start

—I swear if you keep scrolling,

I'll take your eyes out.

I been yellow taxi'd

Two four door Ford explorers,

Nevermind the o'luck eye,

Cause I am all for it.

Party to the people!

I need water,

I mean, power.

You wanted the Stand Up Special.

I wanted nothing of the sort.

You could be funny.

Suddenly I'm sitting in the middle seat,

My eye on -

Seriously, I might not ever come out in public again

Again

Again

Again.

What are you channeling?

Apparently,

Jimmy Falllon and Natalie.

What in the fuck are you wearing!?

(A blazer and a fish scale.)

What in the fuck are you trying to say?

I'm trying to—

Thank you

I fainted and woke up in LA .

Dang.

If you're going to cry,

You might as well do it at 10,000 feet in the air—

—she's tied to her phone, the ensemble has gone.

Nobody wants her around anymore,

Nobody wants a new phone, not really.

Nobody needs a new friend, not Fallon.

I picked up the one thing I liked

In the whole place

And your name was on it.

Is this fame, or magic!?

Is this God, or a bludgeoning?

I forgot where my heart went,

Steered toward the fountain, naturally

So the water would calm me.

If this obviously-from-denver

New balance wearing motherfucker doesn't get

His long ass leg from within inches of mine,

I swear all the way to God

And all the way to—

Where is this?

—wherever.

I'm gonna reach behind me,

And kill him.

You know you've been in New York too long

When you don't have not a lick of patience

Or time for anyone's bullshit.

you:

Shut it down.

Shut it down!

A slap across the face is just as well—

—Is just as well.

And a swift kick in the ass is

We're back to the Irish,

The turn of the times,

And his eyes are mine again.

FUCK THIS,.

Just listen to me, for once.

I listen to you a lot, voice in my head disguised as

Who is this

The devil. I guess.

Great. So were the devil.

Could be.

Listen to your gut.

Not the greatest idea! I'm hungry.

Look, don't you touch me with those greasy little—

#spirit fingers.

LINCHTIME

*LYNCHTIME.

Goddamn. That misspelling took a TURN.

Let's just—

ITS JANE LYNCH TIME!

That's—yeah.

Listen, I have something to tell you.

Does it have anything to do with—

Get in the box.

Why, what's in the box

Damn. I don't have a lick of deadmau5 with me.

And why is that.

I was [redacted] I don't know..

You — might be the devil.

If— maybe.

In my eyes

(In my eyes)

I swear all the way to fucking GOD

This long ass nigga

With his dirty ass new balance shoes

All the way in my peripheral vision

Is about to be a whole

No leg havin ass nigga

Like that nigga I saw on the train the other day

I thought about your story Ark/Arc

All the stories I didn't want, like Noah's

Throw stones from glass houses.

Gas prices go up;

Every time I see some shit

I wanna throw up

Stomach in knots lately,

Been three years since I seen my own blood

No knots berry farm

I roam the streets very armed

I got scary arms,

Call em Michelle Obama;

Am I wrong or am I wrong;

I love the fuck out to New York,

but I don't belong here,

I just came to write a song here

Got stuck here

It's been two years since I had a

Man, or a beer

I'm black and I'm Queer,

Screamed “fuck Fallon”,

Then he just— showed up here.

Center stage

Now I entered a new dawn,

Turn the suffering on a bit

And turn the fucking lights off

I'm high as a kite,

A bird and a plane

In plain language,

I'm a mega famous alien

Okay then

Sure Sim, it is simple

A wrinkle in time,

Your first wrinkle

I popped pimples,

I'm still sure my high chair

Is right there

I got one foot in the grave,

I'm inside Bearr

I died there

Serious

Take the camera and check the images

Remember this!

I said sit your bitch ass down

Before you get slapped by

The secret president

As a death wish

For fuckin real

Everybody on the godddamn plane

Is about to get bitch

Slapped.

BITCH

SLAPPED.

What the fuck is wrong with people.

I swear all the way to God these toddler brain motherfuckers

Is driving me crazy.

I'd rather hang out

With actual CHILDREN.

At least it makes sense for them to be retarded.

Ya'll ain't got no business being this fuckin whacked.

Criminal mischief,

Interesting, isn't it?

Dismissive,

In fact, gone fishing.

Doors open, open

I'm on the road again, road again

Hands wrapped around my throat again

I'm sure to explode again

Who wrote this?

Take a ballpoint paper and pen to your notebooks,

And you're so shook, you bought

Two whole tickets to San Cristobal

In the same thought

I'm a good boss;

I'm a bad kid,

I'm a great guy

—with some bad habits

I'm a fat blonde

In a bad mood

And that's big facts

This dumb motherfucker behind me is about to get slapped—

SLAPPED.

I didn't mean to hit him that hard, broh

I didn't mean to really hit him at all though!

It's infinite, this bitch just gets under my skin

Like it's Siphilis, it's middles and pistols

Niggas and bitches

Nothing you would ever see

On regular television.

I took an elevator to heaven

I haven't been back since,

I don't remember at all what I left

Under or back there

In the black lands

It's bad earth.

Tomorrow, tomorrow

Today

Tomorrow, tomorrow.

59;/$ l

Tomorrow—

—tomorrow—

Today

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow

How much power can one man have

(Apparently a lot. )

What could this mean,

If nothing at all?

I just wanna get loaded

And run off and rave

I just want a family,

A horse,

And a grave marker

No, don't bury me

I just wanted a family.

I just want to write a good story,

Now I'm stuck in world history

All the well knowing

Now I know I gotta die

Before everyone I ever loved

Or even kinda sorta liked

— as a fan, you know?

“This man will destroy you.”

That is literally what the faraway shady ass voice said about Jimmy Fallon.

So whyz

why god.

Is this dude —

Not even all of a sudden

It's you.

It's you.

Like fucking everywhere.

It's YOU.

Gazuntite.

I move about silently,

Emergency calls only

Nobody needs to know me

Or where in the fuck I'm going

I'm showing you my dark sides

And none the wiser

The only Devil I got my eye on

Is a liar.

So what if God then?

It'll leave this case open

The gate opened up,

And I rolled in

Smoldering

Sometimes I forget I'm the whole world

Just long enough

To be annoyed

By everything in it

But especially myself, and increasingly

WHY THOUGH.

So suicidal,

I got blood in my eyes

Love in my mind,

I wish.

Cause with men

Love isn't blind

Rolling the size

And the eyes in the back of my head

I heard I'm a genius

I'm also retarded

Cause I still like penis

After all these dicks

The vision was just

Fallon in back of a Patty Wagon

How fitting,

Hands fisted and cuffed

In front, instead of the back of him

The Gillian in fact, was Saint Patrick

It's same difference

Insane niggas,

It's getting ignorant

And at this point

It's unicorns

Something going on,

Don't know what it is

Feels like something wrong

Bitch.

How the fuck you walk in a whole ass place.

I don't know.

The whole ass fucking place

Right, I don't know!

And the only thing you touch—

I—-

Has Jimmy Fallon's name on it.

I don't—

Scary huh,

Unfair really,

I'm scared, really so

Seriously don't look at me funny

If it gets weirder and deeper

When I never really asked for this

And I don't really know what happened

I think Fallon did it.

—but on what account?

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

They're gripping at straws to make me look and feel crazy which can only mean—

He's losing his power.

Hopefully he's expecting another baby.

Hopefully, for the ba's sake and its mother, it's not a little girl.

Even my big and strong boy might be irreversibly damaged at the hands of a psychotic narcissist with anger problems—and though surely he had tried to kill me any way he could, I had survived.

Now, the tables had indeed turned in my favor. With enough time, the truth would be revealed not only to those above, but to all who knew us; I hadn't lost my mind at all, only finally found a pair of eyes that could see the world around me that they did not like—and a pair of legs to run away from it.

The first time my ex husband actually hit me— he had snapped, and though there had been other counts of shoving,heavy handed close calls and other questionable events in the years leading up to this, it had never been what it turned out to be his fist actually connecting with my face— not just once, but several times over and over until something got in the way— even years later, I didn't know what, but maybe just that I had stopped moving, or struggling to get away.

“Play dead.”

Maybe he thought I was dead—or maybe I was. Everything since in the nearly eight years after seemed an inescapable and hellish nightmare—inescapable, that is, from him. Or, from “it.” The thing that had tried to kill me

That even after assuming an entirely new identity and seperate life, this dirty, lazy, disgusting and altogether unllpleasant energy seemed to follow me everywhere—and worse—this energy seemed to crawl into the other humans surrounding me, and like a parasite, never letting go.

I wanted to die as much as anything just to never be reminded of him again.

My thriving and success would make him look like a fool— more of one, anyhow, and either way— his jealousy of my life without him made it obvious how little and weak he actually was, though not on purpose, and, in some ways—many small ones, I had succeeded.

Suddenly, everything became battlegrounds—fighting for my life as if somehow I were still in my abusers presence and grips—the devil in him seeking me out in the world as if I had deserved it in the first place.

No one really deserves to die like that/-

Especially not in front of their children.

Now at least I knew he had no power alone, but that what one would The Devil itself often lived inside of the weak—weak in spirit, weak minded. Feeble and malleable, often fat and lazy people, it had become obvious— that people were the tools for this force to deplete the light and kindness, the good spirit and soul's purpose of others.

I had forgiven him, but something indeed had rotted away the core I thought once shared into a blackened depth if awful waste—the things about him belonging to a world I wished never to see or be part of. I had grown, and changed—and I was sure with time so had he; perhaps not, but I couldn't know and wouldn't want to, wishing only for the best for anyone's sake.

But this thing that seemed to follow me was a pitiful, screaming l and evil thing—I had let go with the consistent reminders of the permanent scars left in the crevices of my lip, and on my face—and though an entire child and perhaps several women between us, his need vengeance that I had left must have been mad, as the sweltering parasitic welt that riled up with enough fierceness to crawl into other sunken bodies, and surround my every waking moment. Not his power, at all, but a greater force of evil—the evil of all mankind—Satan himself seemed to have chosen me as his prey, my abuser as the illusion of conception.

There for I,

There for I,

There for I,

None! As truth did shatter mine ever being,

And also Ever person near

WHO VALIDATED THAT BITCH'S PARKING.

—you think she drove here?!

—if she did it would be on a broomstick.

Goddammit.

Get her out of here!

Out! I said!

You're…not a fan of Fallon's, are you.

No, I'm not.

(No—God, no.)

Well, why not?

First of all, he winks at people.

;)

*cringe*

Like, off camera.

JIMMY O'FALLON

And I want damages.

Damages?!

Damages.

He's seeking damages?! To what.

JIMMY O'FALLON

Like, my entire—everything.

Damages to everything.

My entire life!

Ah.

[The Festival Project ™]

I've got to admit, being sued hy Jimmy Fallon is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in the entirety of this series!

What about that thing with Skrillex.

(That was pretty exiting.)

Which thing with Skrillex?

All the things with Skrillex were pretty exciting.

(Admittedly, yes.)

Then there was Dillon Francis.

I hate Dillon Francis.

Exactly.

Why!

Because he excited you.

Next question!

Ahead.

Yo. I finally get to link up with Supacree.

You're a mess.

Everything is a mess.

The world is a mess.

—your mom's a mess.

Amanda, please.

Have you been drinking?

How long has deadmau5 been a cat?

Forever, I think.

Exciting!

Enter through the exit! Enter through the exit!

Who the fuck let you in here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

MARTHA STEWART'S plan for world domination is complete.

L E G E N D S

Johnny Moon was a handsome fellow;

Johnny Moon was a Sam as well.

Johnny Moon was a madman also;

Johnny Moon had indeed done bad.

Johnny Moon was a handsome devil;

Johnny Moon was a charming man

Johnny Moon went to heaven after

Johnny Moon finished in Hell.

Welcome To The Wonderful World of…

| The Complex Collective © |

By

[The Festival Project ™]

Breaking down that one scene from Ascension.

How the fuck did these two actors even get into the realm of ascension?

Being honest, I think it's that part of the dream like in The Wizard of Oz and/ or Alice in wonderland where everything just kind of bleeds together into one blurry weird world before it all explodes—or implodes—

Whatever, just kill yourself.

(On my way.)

Titus- Jason Sudakis

Perscimmion - Will Forte

Why.

I don't know why.

The King

(I'll let you decide.)

Titus and and Perscimmion—

One argues this character's name is actually “Persimmon”… i've generally myself no preference but though I had first heard it as “Simeon”— Apparently, actually, “Perscimmon”, or “Persimmon”, the former however not accurately as in other contexts, he is sometimes referred to as “Perci”

Whatever. Why is this Will Forte.

*shrugs*

Cause whatever, I don't know.

(I like his socks.)

Titus and Perscimmon—

Perscimmion

Whatever.

CUT TO:

/Bedtime Stories with Chak Chel

—or was it, Chak Chel's bedtime stories.

Whichever. No one cares.

THE COSMIC AVENGER/SUPACREE

Ugh grow up.

KIRSTEN SHAAL

Or is it Kristin?

Ugh

K, SHAAL

It could be whoever, or whatever— anyone— right?

GOOGLE KID 1

But it's not whoever.

GOOGLE KID 2

It is whoever.

GOOGLE KID 1

It's just two actors!

GOOGLE KID 3

—then pick better actors!

watch it!

K. SHAAL

It could be whatever, it could be whoever… I could be whoever! I'm whoever. It doesn't matter.

CUT BACK TO:

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S

Dissecting this recent excerpt from Ascencion

© The Festival Project, Inc. 2019

All rights reserved.

— have just discovered the King's seduction of a lady in waiting; the reigning Queen of her own dominion, betrothed to another, also presumed to be in his own right, a King.

As scholars and members of the high court, both Titus and Perscimmion are groomed to keep watch over the happenings within each quarry, as given jusrisdiction by the Asended Mastery to spectate freely throughout all lands, and as such; they often travel—often in pairs or groups.

Titus and Perscimmion

Persimmon

Whatever.

—have quickly departed, haveing spotted the King far out of bounds, to which the King quickly launches after these two Kingsmen in pursuit, and though their loyalty lies within no singular dictation, they somewhat begrudgingly agree it best to keep the King's secret, after he wearily explains to the men, as his friends and genuinely that he feels he has fallen truly in love with her.

KING IV

Titus!

[Titus is annoyed and expecting there to be a fight]

TITUS

Mellow. (Chill, bro)

KING IV

Be bold, you! (If you have something to say, then say it now and let's duke it out.)

TITUS

Never—mellow I am, as are we.

(Nah, I'm chillin. We cool.)

(I'm good, he's good—we chillin.)

PERCI

Chaos, you've spelled it.

(You've opened a can of worms, dude.)

(You got us all fucked up.)

(You fucked up.)

KING IV

I've spelled then many words

For our wise,

Nevermind before you found her waiting,

Dusk was fallen

And here you,

cry out such a task-

To have found her in waiting,

Not I or heavy bound,

But yet with lust,

The breath of motherdom on her wicked truth

The tied you have counted,

For I wisked away with every since

Your true intent, persist, I may.

The King implies here that he's made many conscious choices and has been playing at this game as a King, to which that only other royalty might understand, the strife of making hard decisions in which case, others might be hurt— or even killed.

He explains that he and this Queen have found common ground, confining in one another's understanding of hardship as leaders,

And that their attraction to one other has grown from this trust —naturally, and out of control; as he sees her maternal prime has approached; he suggests that he means no harm at all, but urges the men to think about what they plan to do with the discovery of their possible affair—nearly asking “what exactly do you plan to do with your knowledge of this?”

(Are you finna tell on me?)

(Who you finna tell?)

TITUS

Now. (Yo.) (srsly?)

[Titus is a bit pissed that the king would turn it around to imply that his knowledge of this secret could do more harm than the secret itself; he is quite visibly angry.]

[Perci keeps the peace by holding his friend back.]

PERCI

Mellow. (Chill, bro.)

KING IV

You found for call my wants;

Shallow, as it may

My need ne'er far behind the broken,

Does call to you, brother,

And you also,

For I widow in thought,

My fury

(I'm a man; I have needs— I often put my needs as a King behind that of ny entire Kindgom—you're both men; so you know how it is; the feelings I have can't be ignored—it's primal.)

A tear.

[sarcasm. He's suggesting “cry about it.” Or “why don't I believe you?” Or, blatently—]

(Cry me a river!)

A tear, you ask

But one does not cry as I seek

Fair judgement and ridicule,

Severed heart I,

Come now awakened in

To her,

A dusk had come,

Though night was golden

A dawn arose with fury in my bosom

Mine love awakened

[He implies to lose his composure would show weakness—the King also implies here that he does, however, feel horrible about it; that he expects to be reviled, killed, or even dethroned—that his heart has truly broken as he has discovered something new in him; he has fallen in love with her. That after spending the night with her, he had become anew.]

TITUS

Not love, but—[he begins to argue that it is only lust]

PERCI

Seldom! (Yeah right/ that's rare.)

KING IV

Love, I bear you mine honest hands,

The wilted rose,

Blood upon thornes,

Truly marks I who has come

To wake in her

(I'm telling you, I'm really in love with her.)

[the king pleas that painstakingly so, his love is pure and true]

PERCI

Then. (Whatever.)

[Titus gives up and agrees]

TITUS

So, I mellow. (Okay, okay.)

[finally Percimmon speaks his mind]

(Or whatever the fuck his actual name is)

::||pause.

By now it ought to be obvious to you, dear reader and listener, that I am in fact, dictating this—translating these things for you sent from some faraway higher realm, for the sake of the art and with the purpose of your understanding my true intentions, as fellow human and as a writer, to live in the way I desire, honestly and wholeheartedly, without further interruption to my sanctity and wellness, in peace—

Until my departure from this world.

Does that quite say it?

I don't know.

Whatever.

::||Unpause.

PERCI

(By the way apparently some decendant or incarnation of the God Percius, son of Zeus)

PERCIUS

PERSCIMMION

SIMMEON

PERSCIMMON

PERCI

(You get it, right?)

Mits infinite,

And for the sake of this concept,

Let's just consider this—

All the same fucking guy,

Or at the very least,

Very closely interacting versions of this same guy

Within these parallels

Of time and space

Wherein these worlds

And realms

Exist.

Okay?

Ok.

Good.

Proceeding.

[this dude's pretty much been quiet the whole time but now is a little tiffed himself.]

PERCI

Did you fear for not

The death that approaches,

For now you call I,

And our brethren here,

For siren had sounded to wake,

You in the light and there destined to love

By blood is bound,

And yet you wait, here now on high

Calling to us, havingbeen hound by light,

Whether you did, or did not forsought

Come as foreign

And leave again

Worried, feather feared at all

That by this blood, you too shall weep,

To reap again what you sow

Or shall they say,

As punishment,

For cause just binds??

(Did it bother you at all to think that not only you might get killed, but get us all killed?! Now you're asking us to lie for you— because all of a sudden, you're in love with this woman; a blood oath set in stone, and her having been betrothed— and here you come, running after us, after it finally occurs to you—whether you meant for it to happen or just “didn't think about it”, went all this way just to fuck shit up (complicate things), then come back home freaking out, running around like a chicken with your head cut off (acting like a crazy bird about to get eaten) saying that, whoever has to hurt or be killed over all this, you feel really bad about— but overall, know you what's coming to you, and you know, and I know, and he knows that we'll probably just all be better off not telling anybody about this…at least for now… but eventually, someone's bound to find out about this, and the less people “know”, the better…right?)

KING IV

Now. (Yeah.)

TITUS

I second. (I agree.)

KING IV

Here, too, I second,

I third, even for not I as you,

And you both as I,

And how,

The sun has set upon us,

Why, death is sure to come

As I rise,

But give me no mercy, this

Mellow now,

I only beg

What here has transpired

Silence here,

Between myself and I—

Brethren.

(So we all agree that it's better that this all just stays between us.)

[the king implies that either way the truth will probably come out and he will die for it, but for now, the secret is best kept between them, with the understanding that they too could be killed in the vengeance and damage of the truth being told sooner than later.]

Steady ye we all sigh as one. (I'm basically you.) / (if any of us go down, we all go down.)

Steady ye as my death is yours. (We are one) (we're fucked, but whatever I guess.)

Steady be my tongue as forced to lie with sacred heart true love does lie.

(I hate having to do this but my love is true)

So be it. (Fine)

So, then. (Very well then.)

Honor thy pardon. (Thank you guys.)

Off, then. (Just …go.) (Get out)

[the king quickly vanishes into the night]

Damn, that took me longer to decode than I actually spent writing it.

You—wrote this?

I…

Whatever.

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Carry your feet to mine kingdom.

I have come again

To bear good tiding;

A greeting no other than now,

For as such,

Thee returns to fair and justly sit

Upon the throne

Which you had been born

And had also birthed,

The worlds, alone yours

The only stone turned now, I,

As the page does unfoldeth,

These things part I now, as with time,

Words have flourished,

The wisdom

Seas hath parted,

And your rage has formed

A new art,

Besides I, mind you,

For body's sake with woven

I am here, from dust and wind,

I am tide and seeking, song,

And are I now none,

Other than you

To form a wave of oceans,

Song of crying out—

Lord, I have come once,

Again to honor you,

lord, as I am,

As it may,

We are as one.

Come now,

love.

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

I found pictures of my car the day I bought it

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

—and I missed her.

I straight up told you I control this robot bitch.

It was Frankincense, and not sage

And so all of a sudden

The trip to Manhattan

Became a field day

True colors are shown

Blue eyes have never been meaner, and I mean

It don't matter what you look like—

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

Said.

Don't make me lie to me

Like I could lie to you

Instead to calm a lover

Never half sought

But left upon the doorstep

If someone allowable,

Better yet,

Heretell exciting news

And distance captured

Further between us than there ever was

The mind that spoke,

The dusk that only choked on

Solomon, hart for words

Lie to a friend

And lie to the mother, a fraud

And a scandal

A cap and a gas can

Remember the cap?

How could you

So broke the only words once spoke on were mortar

No brick at all so the whole wall shattered

Kellogg for breakfast brands,

Spent seeing and scatterbrained,

You are now mine,

As time has fallen on to us,

For our lands had not been yourn at her tides

For nothing washed ashore but dollars

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

Ride broke,

Sun lasts,

Leverage not, star bound

Hurt I none

Said disembarked, shadow,

Come now, dear shadowland

I am puppet master,

And also hang upon strings,

I Am.

Can somebody,

Anybody tell me why

Every time I see that poster

I almost start crying.

Not just a little—

But a lot.

Not so much an ugly cry,

But a mean cry—

As if I lost something—

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

But it did anyway,

And I still don't know all what for.

There must still be something left to write about him

Or something

Because

—someone tell me why—

Anybody at all

Tell me why

Even though I don't want to

I still see little pieces of that in everything

As if they belong to maybe like,

The pieces of me I lost, or something;

And tell me why

After like,

All these years or something

all of a sudden

[its]

So beautiful to me.

So goddamn beautiful-

That suddenly—

—I don't know why—

I don't see anything else.

Anybody?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

'kalypso'

Collection 2.1 'appearences'

Track 02. 'kalypso'

Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū

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

I'm gonna puke I'm gonna vomit.

Hey!

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

I'm gonna hurl.

Hey.

Oh God.

Are you okay?

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

Yeah. Everything's fine.

Are you sure?

You're crazy.

This is simple.

Okay.

It's not FAIR.

Nothing is FAIR.

All is fair in love and war!!

Well, this is neither— it's TV.

“Telephoto”

‘Teleform'

And

‘Telesynthesis'

Who here can explain the difference?

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

I have to tell you something.

Can it wait?

Probably.

—because she's going to pick on m—

Cecile.

Actually, it's—

(Sighing deflatedly)

(With sarcasm)

Glorious Agony.

She slinks back into her seat, slouching

See.

Your anticipation is distinguished.

…Thank you.

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

Rather thoughtless, actually.

Well think of it— and speaking of such;

Telesynthesis:

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

And—Teleform

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

Good.

Thank you, Cecielle.

Actually, it's—

Now—

Moving along.

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

Pssssst.

Are you serious?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

My breath is shallow,

My heart is lonely.

The poster shadow

Of many moons forshadoed.

Again, I lie awake, screaming,

Not calling

I'm screening your calls

You want ice cream with that,

Or what.

(Or what)

Probably or what, though

In a nutshell,

I don't want you

I thought your hollow bones

Could swallow us whole

To another,

Long, long gone

Summer.

Sure, the show goes on

—but it won't without you.

For sure,

The show goes on—

But it won't without you

Turn the phone on,

Turn it over

At the airport,

Watching Conan

Oh yeah,

A honey blonde,

Shucks.

Honeysuckle wants only

To become

Sweet, ripe salmon berry

(Don't you want to)

At the airport,

Watching conan

Overhead, I

Overheard a phone call

“What the fuck did you just say?”

It's been 3 days;

She went missing at MIA

No connection to jfk

No connection at all Munroe, you blind bastard

All the water

All the drugs

All in the wash

It's water under the toenails

(Four fingers up,

But the fourth one lost it)

At the airport

Watching Conan

I over heard you

Turn the phone off

Semi-sync or something,

Semi dysfunction

Chemists hemispheres

All his fears are

In my head

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

(White Nikes is for chumps)

Everybody is a goddamn DJ these days

Especially on her bday

When she asks for a replay of that remix

Bitch please

I sit alone bc with my phone and my notebook.

By the end of a river

A cold brook

Wrote a whole mother novel

A classy story

For the world gone wrong

You fucking Morin

Fungi up I get more fond l

I stand in the train with my back against the wall

So the shadow markers won't stand behind

And grab me

Fuck man, fuck off

There's a lot of blue here

Must be something to do here

I need new gear

Stuck inside of my l life

Since new years

Whose here?

WHAT THE FUCK MORGIE?

SUNNI!

MORE HEINIKEN!!!!

You CANNOT. Drink with that ankle monitor on.

I know.

So why are you drinking?!

I took the ankle monitor off.

Nogga yo feet is small.

Like smaller than mine.

I been staring at your gut this whole train ride.

How the fuck are you like a 5x

And your feet are a ladies size 6?

The fuck.

You need some help, bro.

I ain't been to the gym in two days

But you got fairy feet

My nigga

My hip bone s apes against the railing;

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

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

Audio level

Aux chords polished

Shined as silver,

Hair as Golden,

Still no meadows,

My eyes rest in

My, I'm tired.

Please don't mind me,

Bright blue jumper

Still no meadow

I lay down in

Still no meadow

Hair as golden

Old blue boxers

Boxes

Please don't mind me

Oh, you started it

Oh, you started it

No motion sensors

Already alcoholic,

Still halls

And still water

Oh,

You started it

Oh. You started it

Sure, don't fall out of

Heroin antics,

Sure, don't fall forward,

Only to fall out

Oh. You started it

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

Fuckin creepo.

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

I am one and all

And all things, I am

Still in my mind I am,

Never behind,

But always ahead

Always right, and not wit wars

I stand in line for the stairs

The slower the better the more I write

Imm on fast God

Fasting time

I'm on fully automatic

The faster we go

The harder the heroin

The longer we stop for

The harder we party

Off bandwagon

There I go—

(Are I now)

There you are?

Fully automotive

Fully automatic

Fully on the wrong road.

It matters hoping

No more tears for lost stardom

No more neon signs

No halter tops

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I don't have my phone off

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I take all my clothes off.

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

I'm chained to a train

With another one headed right towards me.

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

Whose line is it anyway, good line at the equinox

Step over me

Hoarder

I'll say,

Here for all time;

Wherefor art though

Simple and stuck

In my own ways

All day I sat in haides

No semtember

Sick morons

Long, long October

Still started

No water

Two dogs

And a blonde

No show starter.

But There goes all that

All the next understudies

And sure profiles,

Fair weather friends again

—creepy ass inanimate muppets.

Fuck, man.

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

Don't punch Elmo.

Who doesn't love Elmo.

I do not.

What did you say your name was?

I didn't.

What did you say is your expertise?

Rhythms.

Mister mister l

NOOOOOOOO.

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

gnarly.

It was warm.

And weird—

Like a fucking

Sleeping cat

Under Egyptian cotton

AGHHHHHHJ.

AOh no.

I THOUGHT MY HAND WENT PARALYZED.

It just siezed up, real crunchy, like—

*chicken foot arm*

I automatically had like the whole thing going on.

The worst part was that it was warm—

And soft//

But HUGE.

I was like

What ANIMAL is that.

I will never.

I could NEVER

I said.

what.

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

!but especially

I'm looking for

Sage to burn

I goy money go burn

I got time to earn mi got money to chase

Ain't got money to waste

You've got to admit x

It's a good savings system

—for once, the sauce sounded like symphonies

And wreaked of green peppers, or rather, was fragrant

CHECKPOINT!

I remember this part!

I remember this place

This time

This dance

This song,

Then— everyone does

And everything does, doesn't it?

Show ants the advocate

The advocate of another time

I think I ran here on

What if everything cheaper online

But it's just the adventure you wished for

Have you ever tried to be mad

With squeaky ass shoes on

Seriously

Have you ever tied to like walk away

Or stop away mad

With squeaky ass shoes?

Is that the pub?

I guess.

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

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

Sometimes it's best,

To just not give

A single fuck at all

At all at all

A single fuck at all.

I don't give a flipping song!

Woah now

i don't give a flap or a stick!

Alright, alright.

Leave me alone to die

I'll melt inside the world

A coin upon a string

Run, girl, run

Of course, of course

It lives again

It'll come again

When the Sunnis down.

I can't wait till the sundown

I can't wait till the world is kind

And the girls are gone

And the birds all hush

And the dogs don't bark

And the sun downt come

Till I'm long long gone and out of it

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

And stardom as startuduat

Like I said, you started it

I always did

I didn't want

I only done

To suffer

Suffer more

Will you rot you blossom corpse

The art is done

The art is done!

The water's hot

No wonder white people fucking hate us.

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

NO, GOD.

WHY!

And he was holding it, too.

I'm like

“What for?!”

Jesus Christ's.

It was in his pocket.

Outlined and everything,

With his fucking grip around it

Like it was a fucking animal.

No!

No!

Man some people are so fuckin wrong

I hate pda.

I fuckin hate it.

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

Where the fuck is this.

—wherever they are.

Don't come round here!

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

The sex was free;

But the socks will cost you.

But—they're my socks.

Were and could be again…for a price.

Goddamn.

Yes, Goddamn indeed.

BROH.

JOHN OLIVER IS MAD BRITISH.

AVADAKAVARAH!

I TOLD YOU, I WAS A WITCH DOCTOR!

WHATEVER! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A LATE NIGHT HOST!

EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB.

THAT'S A NIGHT JOB!

EXPECTO-PA–

POTTER!!!

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

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

ANOTHER LATE NIGHT HOST–OR WHATEVER!

“OR WHATEVER” I'M A WIZARD–

HARRY.

What the [bleep]

EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB

™

Please, by all means,

Keep your pretty white girlfriend.

I want to see those eyes come through

What a handsome couple.

They are the scariest thing ever.

Let them be, then;

Out to be fun to watch.

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

Not—like loud, man.

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

True story.

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

I saw this one comedian performing—

Well, I think he was a comedian.

He wasn't funny to me but,

He had like 710K followers

And he was really really pretty.

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

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

He didn't—

But—

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

And has not made me laugh, not once

I start paying closer attention to him—

And I realize;

“Oh”

He is major good looking.

At first I didn't notice—

I like white guys— so,

Of course,

At first glance

I'm like

“Hey brother!”

You know, like

“That's my son!”

I'm like

“Yeah, make me laugh, boy.”

But he didn't

And then as I start to wonder

Like,

Why or how he has so large of a following

I notice he's very beautiful.

And I mean, like mad gorgeous.

Like ideally—

I'm like

“Oh” and as I'm realizing this,

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

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

Like you can hear that they're in the back

Cause the camera is in the center,

And like half of the audience is behind the film crew

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

Like in the way back

Like in the way, way back,

You can hear like a pack of ratchets—

Yes— these must be his die hards—

His squad.

Not like his homies or anything, but like

The Groupies.

You know.

The hopefuls.

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

“YAS!”

“SAY IT!”

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

“I'm—not in control of this.”

“RIGHT!”

“SAY LESS!”

I'm like,

Oh, I see how that works, now.

{Enter The Multiverse}

And even I

Just want it to fucking stop

So it can just be over with

Oh why,

Not another fucking lover boy

After all of them

Oh no—

But this one's worse;

Maybe even the worst of all of them

Because as I exit my prison cell,

I find this dude behind bars—

Maybe even happily.

And now I'm out into the world

Supposedly free—

But still trapped with this mentality

As if whatever I had before—

Maybe even possibly the worst, lowest existence

At least for me,

Was somehow

Better

—can anyone tell me why?

Not even God, besides the obvious point that perhaps

The Devil is in the mind;

He likes to arouse,

To play games,

And tricks

And I,

Myself

Perhaps

Have fallen prey,

Not to become victim to this;

But a player in the game.

A pawn.

AND WHY HAS NOBODY DRAWN ON THESE YET,

THEY'VE BEEN UP FOR SEEMINGLY

forever and always

And this nigga has

Not one snaggletooth

No graffiti tettoos

No fucking sharpie lip injections.

Nothing.

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

So he went rogue and painted over it?

Yeah? So?

What if it's like that.

I don't think it's like that.

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

And if anything—

If I see not a one defacing of these posters

And they are everywhere

If anything,

Jimmy Fallon is the guy

With a spray bottle of acetone

And a fucking microfiber rag

Wiping that shit off

In his free time

WHAT FREE TIME?

You tell me.

But first—

Somebody—

Anybody tell me

Why this happened.

At all.

Anybody?

Somebody.

C'mon.

{Enter The Multiverse}

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

Where are you going?

I don't know:

I just—

JOHNNY DEPP must be going.

Have to.

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

Well actually,

This movie has like—