It's probably for the better

I don't feel like this in public

The controlled demolition

Of an iconic relic

Surely, something must give

Surely, something just to

Get this bed out of my studio

Get this dude out of my head!

I told you, I'm not into—

Every time I like it,

It's the same.

Young Johnny Depp?!

What?! Young who?!

The Young Johnny Depp is Hot.

You're Johnny Depp!

Very hot.

I don't know what you're talking about! My name is Tom! Officer Tom Hanson!

(Left) this is wrong.

This is so wrong,

Fuck. What happened to my left paragraph alignment button.

I dunno. Google keeps moving things around.

GOOGLE:

DO YOU MEAN:

Woah. Google's getting good at this

Salt & Stones

—and blood and bones

And ones and twos

And twos and ones

And ones and twos and

Ones and twos

And

Ones and twos

And

One and twos and

Ones

The things that I don't

Are the same as the things that I want

And ones and

Two of you ought to be

Better than one

If the other should faulter

The other one jumps in

And

Why am I dying of heartbreak, at 10:00 in the morning on an otherwise normal Tuesday?

It was any given Tuesday, but not otherwise normal, at all, actually.

I hadn't actually written in days or actually done anything normal—rather, normal typically.

‘Nothing was the same and yet everything was, and though I had promised myself to capture some of the sometimes ravaging thoughts with a written gesture, it had escaped me with every bit of apathy and nonchalance as it would; and it would stand to de defined that, if the thought were important enough on its own, it would come back around in due time—and that is, by the time it did indeed have to be written with intent, as not to escape from a realm of contemplation—to become an expanded and exaggerated thought, or idea—and immortalize itself into my infinite journal.

And it was. Infinite.

There were only so many moments I could cope with reflecting too deeply upon New York City, a monsterous machine of opportunity and money—a many of power and, surprisingly (or not) a modem for ritual.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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