At an interesting and quick pace,

The man asked to be seen by the doctor,

A wish,

No distasteful strand of eloquence left unopened—

He asked for a mailbox, and she gave him a shovel

(And a shower for a show!)

O Conan!!!

That just became so readily amusing to me,

That I might have failed to have mentioned, dear reader

An atrocity unwinding for us we have found—

and we have found such indeed, in perpetual times,

To be one another, and all at all times! A quest!

Given a seat at the entry,

To have been given any attention,

And keep each of them with me

A mention—

For factor of disappearance— “¿whereforeartthou women? “

We'll ask—

(But no children please)

I get it;

I got tracked down for an autograph

And asked for one, if any

For a stone each

Goes to the other.

Listen,

Movement again

Catch me if you can, car//cat.

What a head trip

What a head trip

What a disasterous ask,

How I failed to have lost you at all,

And found one at the crossroads,

Dropped off at the crosswalk

Don't forget waffles!

Stramlining streamers

And bicycle tires

Times of the times

Of the times

(Of the times, I said)

I love iron

And ironing boards in the flatiron district

Don't do anything I wouldn't

(Fair, and very well said.)

Fair and very well done, your honor

Are we all on the same ark now,

Noah?!

No!

It couldn't be I had ever lived so dangerously

Look at me

I went all that way

And only lost $22 dollars!

A dollar a minute!

—times a wasting!

I went all this way

And still owe 30 minutes on the stationary bike

{After 30 More Minutes on The Stationary Bike}

In the crosshairs//crosfires of something once thought as love, we find reason to give in trust to such, as not has now parted from within these sequences

—of time, through time—

and by time, in and of itself, in nature

—with and throughout cause of now and where we have come, into truth;

Awakened by our judgement,

And in spirit, here gathered as farkind.

Sometimes, I honestly don't know what any of this stuff means— or what I'm writing until after I've done it.

I've got to go;

That's Christopher Lloyd.

John Wilkins, Sr. Sir. Reporting for duty.

Have you got your paperwork gathered?

As you asked.

As was commanded.

Yes, sir.

I see here you have— mounted—

—and unmounted—

—yes…this mission—several times within the last decade.

I've seen to it to show all paths taken within the simulation—sir—both in and out of each district within the series grid.

*face*

—uh, sir.

…I see. And your continuum?

Spotless: In fact— with your judgment, you might confirm I've become somewhat of a—

(Clearing throat)

Ahem.

—celebrity.

*coughs*

—sir.

[a break]

—it has been well documented.

All Things Considered…

…All Things Considered.

(Breaks fourth wall, as if to say “i beat you to the punch.)

(No pun intended.)

That's not funny!

No, it's not, but—

All Things Considered…

….

“All Things Considered”

{Enter The Multiverse}

Huh. A new show.

Oh My God.

What's wrong?

A new parallel.

—where?

…close.

And—how?!

Since when did we ever know how things happen—

[The Festival Project ™ ]

—In this realm, or anywhere else?

—-

How's “anywhere else” sound?

Marvelous— as long as it doesn't cost too much.

It won't.

Please tell me you're taking these things seriously.

Serous as it gets.

It's as serious as they come, I think.

They're going to kill him.

They're going to kill me!

I'm…gonna kill him.

Well— that's enough!

Off to work!

I've gotta go!

AND LIVE FROM NEW YORK, ITS

—I touched it.

Shut the ——

UP.

Um. What.

You can't say that.

We're live .

I just did [bleep] say that

Why is it—

—oh my god—

—where's the censor?!

Are we live!?

We're live!

Cut to commercial!

We can't!

Run the backup generators.

Ahahahahah.

We gotta get this thing off the ground.

We'll see.

Oh! She's—

I'm sure you'll understand lately.

Through the corridor.

Where's the corridor.

You'll see it.

*walks into wall*

Er—maybe not.

Portal!

Portal!

Portal!

Always.

Follow.

Your instinct.

Maybe later?

I—

Wait! Where are you going?!

Somewhere else! I don't know!

There's something you should know.

What should I know.

He—shot himself this morning.

Oh, that's terrible.

I might have my wires crossed,

Then again,

Come again,

Here again—

Second time

The controller of everything

Controller of God

—but if God has a controller

I guess that's who I am

(That's who I am)

I'm not tryna look cute today;

I just wanna go in on a loan

How long has it been

Seen I seen what you saw—

But if I saw your face,

It's a whole new world

I got lost once;

No more scholarships

No more storms,

No abortions.

No missed calls,

No more harsh words

(Harsh words lost!)

No more music,

More songs

Fire on,

Bass guitar—

I play everything on the wall

I'm a whole animal

I got tired of the wall,

I got a will to work

I just won't work

For a star!

Someone call my employer,

I got ties, and bosses

Leather cuffs and centrifugal force less

I'm so worthless

But you started it for her

No, I don't want to smile;

I should just start the fire under my soul

To get lost with it.

I'm still tied to the art,

Still tied to it all

I still can't decide

For my heart

Or my soul

If I should just move on with it.

I shouldn't move over so fast;

This whole car has bucket seats.

I should just leave it to God,

And I don't want to worry too much

About projects

I already took losses on

If it buffers again,

I know I'm in charge

Just thinking about where I've gone with it says

I should let it go,

All the way gone.

I don't need a divorce

I need to resurface

Just let go

And just get gone

I've been missing a piece of my heart

And I've had a lot of fun times

On rooftops

But I got two dogs barkin

With no bones

And no boners

As thrones

To sit upon

What was that about the crown?

If my plane goes down, all is lost.

I thought about voice activated doors—

Keeping the lights on at night

And starting wars over

Don't hold onto value

What doesn't serve you only

Sell the dream they sold you

To show you

The cold shoulders;

I need no more open doors

And no pawns

If it's not worth all of it

All of it.

I don't want

More open doors,

And more artifacts to show

I could only get cold hard numbers

No nurses more;

Wait till you get a divorce—

That'll show you the cold hard world.

I'm not worried about an offer.

I'm not worried about a job,

As long as I've got

long John Silvers

I'm not worried about the way it works so much

Except

Leaving a piece of myself

In the past,

With no way to get out.

(There's no way to get out)

Didn't I say before

That I loved the whole world over you.

You built the whole world over water

The wall around Rome in a day.

Remember the time you sold your piece

And your peace

Remember what you could give

To forgive

To forget

To spend your entire life

Spinning and spinning

In the wild

And

End-the-end

It's a win-win situation.

It's a push to start world, you know

This—we live in

A paranormal paradox

Of modern amenities

And

[Conviniences]

[The Festival Project™]

—-I just want to play with him.

I promise, I'll give it right back when I'm finished

I don't plan on keeping it

Or living long

Or doing well—

Or coming home till morning.

Everyone gets worried after supper

When the car backs out of the driveway, God knows

I could be gone for an hour at most,

Or a month,

Depending on

Where I'm going

Nobody knows

When I close my doors to visitors

Open to the public, on some days.

On some,

Corporate function.

Dress code with all the right

Suits and ties,

Dollar signs and

Brunches

Now, far beyond private

Firewall

And a lockdown mode.

I'm dizzy with the loss of time

But you'd chain me to a bedpost,

Managed by a stranger

Then again, at night

I've lost all hopes

All night,

Steady fishing in a man made pond

For nine hosts.

So if 9 out of 10 times

The answer is yes,

And one no—

Might as well vote;

Get on with it

I should fill out an app for McDonald's yet

I'm already full of c/gum

And water.

So why not?

[The Festival Project ™ ]

Laramie Hughes is a jack of all trades.

A representative of God on all behalfs

Tearing down the institutions of sanity

Forbearance of betrayal

Unkind, but bewildered

They come in all incarnations

Ignorant to one another

Which one's which?

However,

The light that brings awareness to all things,

The triad of knowledge,

Wisdom and

illumination

Your pain is words in music

Tears to translation,

The chaos, destruction

Of forming worlds once thought

As foraged, once of thought

But now become of us

What we are

The color of God

(He looks to meet his untimely demise atop a skyscapter in midtown Manhattan)

Oh God, here it goes

Below, the summoned protector waits, awakened as archangel and antithesis to what is known, to catch him — thus prolonging his existence, and though not truly preventing his untimely death, giving birth to his enlightenment...

Oh God, here it comes.

He jumps, giving way to all element

-a ragdoll,

She stands basking in his glory,

Nonchalont

And catches him.

A high tide breaks,

Catching into a storm

In the night,

Off the coast,

In Los Angeles

Embargo!

Embargo!

A sanctioned cry,

For here once more Friday comes,

Again we call to all Ark,

The martyr of aces—

Keeper of stones,

Craft of Wanda,

They call God,

But also non-form

Circumstance of other

Antithesis,

Before antiquity.

The light in your language

Has crafted pure steadyform

Emotion in my cadence,

Thought to be worlds of wonder

Dance, brave fortune has captured!

Light, scared not of darkness

But ending in all time

The underworlds unknown to awareness

At all—

A Kingdom;

See you now the heart unfold,

The tired messages of animals form

A love so misrepresented as to call it so

One,

Besides the box of fixatures,

Captor or wrechetness

The end of all evil,

The Sun of a new kind

Blood on the water,

Bask in I now,

Another misfortune

The keeper of keys has gone and fallen

Not into rest,

But another world—

Waking is he to the cries

And the sorrow thoughts of others,

The many amass,

To structure what had bonded

Him of his hands,

The ties,

No more a world he leaves behind!

No more is he!

Steady, mister

I have forgiven the end of all what is real

In exchange for your interest

Sanctioned

Embargo!

Embargo!

So, wounded mother—

In your care I bloom

If only to forget of you,

Upon waking my own,

A gifted enchanted and given sword,

No shield but I,

As my own title

Becomes coordinates;

A map and globe to scale

Crafted of thought

Trickle now your tears, chorus

Dear chorus—

Sing now of accomplishments and whistles gestured at the woven wicker basket

Have you a candle for us,

Doctor—

Or perhaps,

As architect,

You have fashioned, dear savior

A mercy-

Forgive us of our pondering

Unknown of your nature

Until light had vanished

From our eyes

And dark tortured skies

Screeched with winds captivated

As to know

Where you had gone.

Oh— why?!

Would this lapis appease you?

A ring of tin and aluminum;

I thought not

(Then again to think at all,

Becomes your own world.)

Again I am crying for your forgiveness

A kindness granted

Only to know once,

The word of your will

Again,

The fur of cat is groomed

With the essence of frankincense,

The wreath of rosemary

A run through the financial cordidor

Panhandling

There, I gathered wood for fire—

The journey a gift of eternal enchantments

A forceful trek to ponder

What I had tied

To my own,

A heart,

A soul,

A seed—

An ocean.

Keeper's Saint,

Will you again find tide with us?

In our minds, we are at feast and in fortunes

But our bodies gravely,

Not at rest,

But to give way to

What is wanted.

Embargo!

For this true, it's no comedy upon us;

These acts of kindness

And tea fortold

Have come again,

As once in Athens,

And again in Rome

And now in New Jerusalem,

As to be

Opposite Eden

—and suddenly,

All the blondes

I had become

Had come to surface

That I was her,

Buried in my own blindness and envy

Having thought of myself as the enemy

And she of circumstantial evidence of the devil at large

I pitied again,

The blankness of my own heart

The displacement of my own soul

Never having been loved at all

By a man besides my own father

She can clear a sample!

Why I got licenses,

Replacements and mailboxes?!

I got nothing but a refund

Shit

15 more minutes, no fame

Control

Let me get the fuck out of here

Before the whole world follows

Let me get the fuck out of here

Before the whole world follows

Six Kings since

Six aces

Since process

Covered incofortable

Since Prince given 6 senses

6 grievances

Seven suns

Seven daughters

Seven worlds

Seven waters

BENYONCÉ and her 6 parallel selves are seated at an upscale restaurant in New York City.

Oh my God—

That's Beyoncé.

No way!

It is—

Oh my Yod.

Seven waters please

Uh…

My cousins!

Cousins!

You didn't know—?

Family.

Cousins! Right

A super gay waiter enters wearing by some coincidence a relic he purchased that Beyoncé herself had once worn; he clocks in for his shift and sees the seven neyonces ay the table

|||

{THE GAYEST FANGIRL SCREAM THAT EVER}

Sss.

Demarcus, as we learn the super fan is called, after losing his job due to the incident, is sought out by Beyoncé and her 6 multidimentional selves and contracted as a bampheramph to enter the void and aide in time traveling the other dimensional multi space, returning each Beyonce to her respective existences and thus restoring the balance to the Beyonceverse as a whole; though he he learns he may never be able to return home to his primary dimension, he agrees anyway to the dangerous feat and is promised upon completion of the mission to be thoroughly rewarded, however Demarcus makes it known that the greatest reward of all is to have had the joy and experience of meeting his all time idol and lifelong hero— a tale of the love and power of fandom, and heroic journey of everyday heroes, brought together though the love and journey of music—and superstardom.

[Demarcus is eventually returned to a dimension in which his wildest dreams have become a reality.]

#fastfridays

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S

Embargo!

Nonetheless, here we are-/

All unmasked and known by our titles

As labels,

In the unknown the darkened light spoken

Had awoken to none more than chaos

A rampant pain and fury of unrequited love

On four accounts,

Mark the 5 and 6

For an eight series coincidal

There we are in the whole form

If only one God,

Which has been said

To walk upon us,

All the knowing of

Nothing at all

Besides the hope of a midnight dawn

By candlelight

Foraged in rain

And pastel paint

For domed cielings

Incense prayers

And glorious foretelling

Of those to come once

And again

And never more

Once world has sought

Only fair weather modems

And blinding call, so—

We are again

In entourage,

Our own truth—

Embargo!

The chorus and ensemble assembles

As protons and smoke,

Ashes and dust,

Cadences and melodies

Melodramas

[The Festival Project ™]

Hark!

How now?

Vikings!

—you said what?

And Frat Boys!

Jyre snatches the binoculars from Hyro..

Let me see that.

To die in one way,

In form another—

For who can deny any artform

So crafted with such delicate an I,

That any you, fair beings

Could understand

The circumstance of what love I gave

The shield of oath,

The blood of sacrifice,

An origin

None truth would swallow

Or define the son(g)bird,

Once scattered and set to depart

Dear storms would follow,

A songbird,

Canary,

Dove,

And the trumpets of swaddled,

Mother goose and laid bane in arms,

The wrath of therefore furious wages,

The seeing and benign snadow of tithings

Truths that borrow!

Scared from creatures

Actual or none at all

The gallows and gourdes

Of strings pulling,

Speaking our words from quilted fingertips—

The Gods,

Safely perched and at safe distance

From he who does not want her

But becomes of all the treasured stone

Awakened in her fortresses

Cast of shadows,

Bond and tied by boundless skies

The Cosmos,

A journey—

Entered in antithesis

And formed awakened in the galaxies

For where apartheid stands as happened

No other circumstance and safety whileyou,

Will I now or neither gathered

From all eyes have seen,

Heart has heard,

Sailors watch the sails have set

Into wind with breath of air,

Forming therefore more words,

wisdom of color

Coat of arms

Swarms of aces,

And currents dollars;

The foretelling of stories often told,

But neigh listened to,

But watched and taught

By neighbors with greetings,

Dressed as others in our forms,

How call,

A truth be told,

For once in the den of wolves

And the call of tiles,

Tires, never once to touch the ground,

Chosen by nature

To be fitted by those of ours

Who wait in the galley—

Unbynow, our ties

Who have chosen in sense of nature

To have forgiven us,

Our lies—

To have caused us

To have shattered there,

And on the wicked, resting wings

Of a creature

Who does not fly

She keeps holy water by her bedside

Of roses and willpower

The 6th Saint of Guesses

And Fantasy…

Wow! Reese Witherspoon. Hey.

Yeah!

I totally forgot you existed.

Well… thanks—

—and I totally get you mixed up with Drew Barrymore, sometimes—

Oh…

Brittney Murphy—

Okay, that's not—

—Dakota Fanning.

Okay, yeah, that's—

But she's like 12.

She's like, 30, I think.

What's the difference?

A lot. Like, a decade and a half.

Hollywood, ya know.

Uh…

Time flies. Anyway.

Yeah.

Reese Witherspoon. Geez.

Yeah.

Have fun.

Wait, where are you going?

I gotta go— whatever, some bullshit—

Hollywood— blah blah blah.

Then why am I here?

Consider yourself lucky.

For what?!

Everybody wants to be in The Festival Project!

What's “the festival Project?”

I don't know. ‍♀️

—?!

Welp, see ya.

—!!!

{embargo}

I was serious enough,

In my words and my ties

For the sake of my bonds,

Out of bounds and on

Brooklyn bound trains,

From Manhattan

Machine washed field of fantasy,

Outfitted for us all on the glory of a spring day

In autumn,

California heroine or lure,

Folktales

And superstardom

Made of truth and of love,

A new kind,

The end of ages laced with wickedness

A bounty on her words,

The way of others are kind in their shadows,

No one has called,

And now,

No one is watching

Waiting, whisperer

A different one, another kind

The brief awaiting,

Then there goes I

Under the hidden sun,

The Autumn come,

The fall of man,

The dawn of love,

The synchronicity of sounds as songs

The birds call home,

No wonder the window was open.

No books,

All alone—

To summon up my own galaxy

Would be to wish

I hadn't let tie me

To worldly pleasure

On fasting day—

But yet again,

Here calls my own nature,

Needing to be needing to be wanted,

Then withered, as it were, to something else.

Hiding in your eyes,

I am

My love of natures kind

Your hazel tides

And ocean blue—

The thought of jade,

Who yet again

Was meant for always,

As I am only

Darkness scorned beauty

All of your luck, as my witness

Forever to hear shadow

To the wickedness of man

Though we are not aligned,

Still the same as many kind,

I want not the slow churning

Of being that, and this at all

—as God is one

And acts in many parts,

All of us,

Or some,

Between set boundaries,

Games of war,

And for arguments sake, inquisitive

Gestures of word fare, gameplay,

Galleys and artfare—

Begin to think you, me,

And I, yourself, you—

Lest we part in denial

Of our dire cause

To form man

The Standard.

The Classic.

The Ordinary.

And—

You rat-toothed bastard!

What did I do?!

You know what you done!

I haven't! And that's bad grammar—

Don't you tell me how the hell to talk, before I kill ya!

Kill me! For what!

You know what!

I must admit, I've become quite partial to using

This Jimmy Fallon character

As a human shield.

WHY. WHY ME.

wtf.

lol

Why Jimmy Fallon.

Because.

—

AGH— NO

HES GOOD HOOMAN SHIELD.

___

HE'S A GOOD HUMAN SHIELD!

Enter the corridors,

The unclaimed nature

Of travelers, in our time,

Coming the wave of signs,

Foreigners,

Call watchers,

Then and here,

Come waiting, wanting to know glory,

The foundation

Of Love Light

The faceless god

Comes creeping in the night

Seeking body to form

Among the walking,

A fiercety of weapons kind

Explanations embellished with

Seemingly meaningless

Only wanting time to waste,

Skinny and shallow,

Part chef and waiting,

None to others, at all,

Therefore I now, part ways

From waves and tides

To become rain and ghosts,

Beauty and wind,

Lessons and learned sins,

Therefore now I,

Wait and wonder,

Pondering to feed the birds

Or quench the thirst

For game and superstardom,

Not only of hreatness,

But ground in the greys and silvers of my hair

Mustache and whiskers,

Brows and hind eyes—

Where are you now

That I was upon waking,

A mistress,

But gathered now,

Awakens under clouds of sun,

To be another,

Only formed as the ground crumbled under her

Again, I live

Again, I go where there is no light of sun

By the shield of sight,

And the whisp of this,

That needs attention as such,

To call I—

A lost soul,

But friendly enough ghost

To have written songs in your partial kitewind.

Then, said I—

A watch upon the wrist would only tell time,

But not the day or the place of arrival for I,

Dear pardoned traveler,

Have also come journeys

Bound by galaxies grasp,

To have whispered into ears,

The things of Jesus

You will wait for him

As the curtain closes,

To come again,

though does he know not

In which beast he will be

But you, shadows

Wait in his envy,

The things you seek to ask and believe

The greetings of long since foreshadowed bark

Amongst you, believe now,

A new tale of these things,

As we bring peace,

You are now

In our forest,

Whenever be you now

Or forever,

As all is eternal,

As I am

You are

Fuck! Whatever that means!

I know, right!

Is this gonna happen every Friday now?!

Every Friday you fast, yes!

Goddamn!

Or don't! I don't care, really. Up to you.

No preference or preference really—

Anandar!

You called me out of my—

—what was I saying!?

First Aliocha

Then Anandar,

A salamander and wildebeest this morning

The grounds had shook

With all of the games being played

In the honor of one

Then,

I thought

A ghost myself—

Impartial to suicide,

But having lost the fit of love

Now to be tied at the alter,

A sash

Okay.

Delicate rain falls from leather skies,

Calling beasts of ours to nest in the calm and warm

Mother of Grattitude,

May I ask,

Where are you now,

That I've become humbled,

And true to art,

As having been asked,

Now not scrolled upon stone walls

Or scryed by fire,

But in this age,

Begot by light,

Another monster of my mind,

Shifted into these as saints,

The words of songs and poems,

The pages of unknown worlds,

In the cyberspace,

Perhaps,

Also as cosmos,

Also as thoughts

Also as words

Also as light—

Also as species;

These things are true to which I know

With what knowledge you have gave me

To think this way,

Upon each breath—

No attempt to be prolific,

But to be at all

Some wages as exchanged

Material things not wanted, but needed

And monetary gains,

Also as thoughts now,

But perhaps also cosmos

True, or not?

Fact, or fiction?

Carson, or Fallon?

What?

Who wore the pants better.

I—

Quickly!

I'm a dead man.

(I'm sure they're both dead.)

Hurry up!

What the fuck!

We're talking about two literal ghosts here!

Which is why—we don't have all day.

Do you know how long it took me to get Wilder down here for this?

Isn't he dead too?!

Perhaps, I am.

Boy, the rabbit was mad…

Almost as mad as the hatter,

And as expected

GET THAT DAMN CAT OUT OF HERE!

Your annual obsession is in;

Turns out, you've come down with the madness

We all tried on, as a hat once in fables

But now,

Machine washable,

Returned to Amazon

With the packaging label attached,

And still!

None was as mad as the black hatter at all!

No tea, but only strong Colombian coffee led

Taken black,

And made so strong by Alice,

Who indeed had been shrunk

To be fit to be tied

By Kendrick Lamar,

No white rabbit at all,

But oh,

To call him a cat,

Or a hatter,

Or caterpillar

Would make no sense at all—

At all you say?!

At all,

As you see,

He was no red King,

No,

But made house of cards

And all had fallen on his kingdom

To become something other

Than Alice at all,

But also lost

For you see,

She had fallen, dear Alice,

Into some hole in Compton,

And dropped

Into the bottom of the ocean

Propmptly below The Island

Of Long

—as so is below

Had happened above

Once a porcelain fable,

Now having been painted,

With the laces

Or tie died folly

Of uncorked

Nothing happens for nothing at all

No justice for just calls,

No focus,

Full world

The fear bought

And new war

For walks

Erhmergersh

It's a purple flermergerder!

*gasps*

Erhmgersh!

Whurt er luridly purple plurbergerder!!

Lurvlry!

Oh!! Ernd Shutrd ur lurvley sherd erv pruplelerplre!

There's in sense in

An evening with fate if he misses it

Assumed to be dead, or with you—

But for the cause,

There was no absolute certainty of the remittance—

The scoured and folded body

Of the wonderful world of God,

Once betrayed and forgotten

For better or worse,

With Gratitude asking for an experience

Her waters had sculled canyons,

And her words fell as oceans

Of another place in time

Or custom caskets

Please bury me,

sheathed in earth,

So that I breathe her

Forgiveness

For a toxic and harmful incarnation

Of our greedy

Alignments and reconciliation

Recognizing that—

If it's going to go fast,

It's gonna be loud—

And if it's gonna be loud

It might as well be a gun

(Just kill me already)

Not hungry yet,

But moving my parts where they ought to be

Out in the world,

And not waiting at all

To come home,

If I'm called with the promise

Of never returning

—not to return here .

Maybe i'm the one they call

The devil himself

When all I wanted

Ever

Was just to be loved

—even by just my mother

Not every other day

But every day

By someone

I live and can't love

In crustpunks city, USA

Better known as Brooklyn New York

Where the mullet is making a comeback

God help em!

I just turned back time

By two whole minutes

Thinking of skylines painted

With music

Meanwhile,

I almost forgot I'm still a cat

My fucking goodness

But I've no use for a litter box

Not even a little bit

(Which things should be and which things though not)

The curious case of Benjamin Button

In full throttle.

I'm so serious—

That's the second mullet I've seen in a week.

Stop it!

God help em

God bless em

Gid love em

Haven't I been standing here

More than 12 minutes already?

Standing still in New York

As new worlds are formed

With new words

I must have done something wrong today.

The bus driver was okay lookin.

I don't look at bus drivers.

I'm like—

Woah, buddy.

You can handle all that you can handle all this.

Good job, Jimmy.

Can you please stop using me as a human shield.

No! Cause then I'd need another human shield!

Then get another human shield!

No!

Why not!

This one is indisposable!

Oh God.

Where'd she go!?

Who?!

God!

What! She never came here!

What do you mean!? She said—

I was here the whole time! I didn't see anybody!

Well who'd you see?

Nobody, just some crack head!

Goddammit, we missed her!

What?!

Didn't I tell you—all the crackheads are God?!

What! Nobody ever told me that.

How did nobody ever tell you that? I told you that!

You never told me that.

I told you that. I know I told you that.

You never told me that.

Well—

Goddammit.

What the FUCK.

Why the devil always wanna be BEHIND a motherfucker?

Do I have something on my back?

Oh look. A portal.

Skrillex?!

It looks like

The Devil attached to my back

I might have to take a knife in it

A counterpart

To take the hex off

(Something told me not to go out.)

Something also told me

Nothing happens at all

With no movement

But God was lost as crossroads, either how

And anyway,

And anyway, we all got lost

At one time or another

What if I told you,

Once formed to one another

You've become

Forever bonded

AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!

You really want to bring the—

Now,

When you need it most, you become the hero you are

Ther you always were.

But least expected it,

Especially now that everyone

Well fit to be

Tied to the cross

This for sure is why I dont fly spirit.

The New York experience

At poverty level

Is eye opening

To the inequality

And injustice

Foraged by ignorance

I've never been to bowling green

But got errands to run

Honestly,

You put your practically newborn baby in a bus

Exposed to all these people?!

BITCH, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?

#I_NY

Yo somebody' actual grandma just got on the bus

In a tube top

I'm not eggagerating

This woman was like 70 years old

And you know black don't crack!

But I'm like:

DAMN.

Who GRANDMAMA IS THIS?!

Then she gon sit down next to me,

And get on Instagram.

She's checkin her stories.

I'm like—

Damn,

She looks about the same age as my actual grandmother.

That's—

I'm like

Woah.

My grandmother don't do all that.

My grandma taught me how to make lemonade,

that's it.

How to make lemonade, and to stay in abusive marriages until the kids grow up.

That's it.

This I know.

Thanks grandma.

I almost like this lady better.

She tore up, but she hip!

Is not the entire world a chemical dependence?

Dancing through projects

And galaxies

Stunted in movement, alcoves

Shallow ponds and hollow rivers tides

Comes again who I am,

When not all else m

She got off the bus, I was like

“Bye grandma!”

Aww.

Imma miss her.

She smelled good, too.

You know racism is really bad

When a colored woman would rather wear an old, ratty old wig

Or a terrible weave

Than her own natural hair.

I'm guilty of it myself—

And this is because I know

The way you are treated in public—

By not only whites— but other blacks

Judgement and mistreatment of the public in general—

If you natural hair is the furthest away from what has been made to be the ideal standard.

I'm rolling through the hood

To return after 9 months

This internet router

Which never worked due to “outages”

And came with hidden fees

Now on my credit report

The deeper I get into the hood, and the more the bus clears out

The most clusters of housing projects

And dilapidated buildings I see—

A reminder that the world at all much has not been changed

But only further hidden away from the eyes of what is known

A car without a name a fixer upper but a keeper

A classic

[EKO restaurant]

{Enter The Multiverse}

Punk rock Jimmy

Had a lot to say

Skeleton, skin and bones

Skeleton Keys,

I am formicated

I thought none deserving of such

At all

All the icons

And idols

And suffered star worshipers

Watching for lost survivors

Galloping the galaxies

—unicorns.

Horses colored as unicorns

No fair appetite at all

For applications,

Mezmerized, believing you will fold at mercy

The ions, are to say at least

All to none

They had already worshiped her

Already murdered her

Already bloodied her gown!

Drown, now!

Die! Silence!

Cadences,

Return to sender, your creatures

Fury of the underlord

Garnished of the underwent

Weeping of galaxies tied

Tied,

Dirty faith.

Wicked wars,

Sorted earth, l —

Now, remember how you found her

YO, FUCK YOU JIMMY FALLON.

He shakes his head and smirks smugly.

Oh…

“OH” ?! OH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE.

You had a life?

I had SOMETHING.

What was it?

I—

*smash*

Wow.

—SHOULD KILL YOU.

Somebody get this guy out of here!

AGH?!

No, it's okay.

You were wrong about everything.

I was— you just shifted.

Excuse me?

You shifted! Who are you?!

BUBBLEEEEESSSSS!!!!

I'm— so sorry.

THEY KILLED MY DOG.

Your rot weiler's name was “bubbles?!”

BUBBBBBBBBLLLLEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!

OH GOD, BUBBLES!!!!!!

WHYYYYYYYYYYYY

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

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