| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

True last Dillon Francis was bad.

Like really bad.

So bad, I still have to remix it.

Let's hope this one is better.

it is.

Wait, what is this.

—don't open that.

Fucking great.

What the fuck is this.

Who knows, man.

Oh look, a portal.

Goddammit it, this whole dude is a mindfuck.

(™

Wait, hold on a minute.

Why, what happened.

Every time I fuck around with these people I feel like I'm being fucked with.

Well, they are DJs, so…

*snifs*

Hm.

Wait.

Yeah.

Didn't this dude hop through the dream world just to tell me he had a girlfriend.

He surely did.

—-sounds like a trap.

How dare you.

Ah, shit—

Did I ever write that scene where

DEADMAU5 gives -Ū. (Or Happy Accidents, Whatever) a thumbs up instead of the middle finger she was hoping for.

HOW DARE YOU.

Well, if I didn't write it before, I wrote it now. ‍♀️

SUCKS TO BE YOU.

Yeah, it does.

I'm closing the portal.

That's fine, I'm going to bed.

Fuck everybody.

Especially weak tiny dick people who ride motorcycles outside my building.

Weak ass bitches.

*niggas

**roaches.

I just realized like,

White people's whole deal now is to do as much

Passive aggressive shit to make black people's mental fragile

To make people

Pop

So they have an excuse to keep

Fucking with (you.)

That your behavior—

Your reaction to their sick,

Twisted,

vampire shit

Gives them a reason

To keep it in their minds

That you are lower than them.

That they are better.

Their entire game

Is finding ways to kill you

Without even touching you.

To make your kill yourself

And call it

“‘Mental illness”

When really it's just a

Series of psychological terror attacks

In order to remain

Dominant in a society

Where they can

Thrive in being

Lazy,

Arrogant

Fucking energy vampires

Yo,

What the fuck is with white girls.

Why are they so fucking EVIL?

They're like, energy vampires

They don't do anything for themselves

At all

And pretty much exist

Stepping on other people

And then calling that shit

“Hard work”

They are practically fucking USELESS.

Like,

If that is your staple—

If that's your girl—

If you're the guy that's like

“I don't know what I would do without her”

You fucking SUCK.

Cause she fucking SUCKS

And that's the basis of your fucking maneuverability and survival.

You are LAME.

Keep your weak dick

Tryna fuck these

Child-looking bitches

“I can't live without her”

Dirty house having

World-stealing

Slave-driving

Ass

Over there.

Karma's coming for your ass.

Your life doesn't get to be this fucking easy

For this fucking long

And everybody else just fucking *really* works

And suffers around you.

You are fucking LAME.

“I don't know what I would do without her!”

Probably nothing,

What most white people do anyway.

Fuck these energy vampire motherfuckers.

They don't do shit

They just use their blue fucking light-reflecting eyes

To hypotize people

Into making other people do shit for them

They don't do shit

They don't clean house

They don't wash dishes

They need to stop treating mental illness like a one fucking size fits all concept

When

Most colored people's mental health issues

Come from fucking the trauma of the societal fucking race war

And most white people's mental illness

Comes from the inability to see that

They've had it so much fucking easier

Than everybody else

For fucking nothing

How the fuck do white people

Have the nerve to be “depressed”

With fucking everything.

Interchangeability is dominance in this society.

You can be ANYTHING

You can have ANYTHING

And you have the nerve to be

“DEPRESSED”

OVER WHAT?

Fuck these toxic ass fucking

Vampires

But you tell them that shit about themselves

And they'll just green light your fucking disposal

“Racism is over”

But you're forward and telling them that in your experience,

That it obviously isn't—

They'll just deny your entire existence

And call it your fucking fault

At the end of the day, really it is your fault—

For giving them the satisfaction

Of doing your little dance around them,

Wearing your weave,

Minding your manners—

And letting them continue to get away with

Taking your light

Because they don't make their own.

(They just exist on yours. )

His war tactics were comical,

At best—

A victor, champion

And honorable warman

That's it! Imm going to make a vegan neopolitan ice cream!

You're going to make—ice creM.

You're going to make—ice cream?

On no, trrrs that guy from 39 rock again.

Do you bastards work on Sundays now?!

You know what they say: if you don't come to work Saturday, don't bother showing up on Sunday!

You would think we'd get a day off in this bitch.

Shut up.

Oh, if it isn't the pampered prince of—

Shh, shut up, he might hear you.

YES.

The toil of knowing

That all of New York

Lies most unseen,

Cloaked to the working

Hidden to the poor,

Far above skylines

And rooftops,

And fear of them

//us

//it

Artifact

Hyperbole, given ranges of circumstances

Heartwarming eathworms,

Two day delay on a martyr attack

Come, mother

Move//

Love closer strictly to your wings

No bullets,

And strangely,

The pain has moved

Out of my wrists and arteries

Into my head again

Mr. Valentine, strictly for the art force

Never murmured or remembered

Words so softly unheard of

Why call us?

I needed armor against the devils warcries—

Telephones and dollars, motorcycles

And motherless crossfires

I told you, waiting

Imm nearly out of my body

And not willing to compensate

For never tied you I

To the bounds of boundaries l

Brick exposed walls and

Leather, not faux

For the given lcuxies

If unmistaken

Bitterness

—the tombs of it all.

Unflourished.

I'd better flag that one

Are you looking for a new body to be housed by?

Grief stricken and decaying in the original marksmanship

Of beautified craft—

Well, now

Aren't we seasons greetings

And good tithings

Aren't I!

Whatever he puts his mind to,

He conquers—

The question stands—

What is it,

He's out his mind to?

Are you ever in your own body?

Are you ever in your right mind?

Which one's the right one?

Fair.

The coughing controllable

Waits for the regimen

Of daily values

Set to offer her

A grand scheme

Of nothing at all

An intolerable

Forgiven grattitude of

Imbalance, captivated at all

By noting but

A line between

What was easy, becomes sacred

In its later challenge, and being blind

Becomes sighted,

At will,

After all suffering

Has been marked,

Dove

Where to put the lips,

Or the bullet, without them

Whistle blows the the water,

Reflective as her eyes

And rotted core

West, then—

For futures sake,

As to live without

Is to die amongst hoards

Or broods, no fit for greater lives

Than the galaxies of unwashed stars;

For metaphors, a gratitude forgotten

You're not doing yourself any favors.

Could I make it more clear how in love we are?

The devil wants,

So he speaks in water

Through the tongs

The warmth of the light shines

Throug eyes and isle

The wickndness would follow

The women,

To die for

On his alter

A sacrifice

And so,

The program resumes

The judge is presiding

The wedding's put off

Or postponed

Or not happening

He played his 7 years best out of all of them!

In at the first, in the end—

As a marker

Tears of a clown,

Dressed in white, and blue faced

Befriended the enemy of interest

In sanctions!

WARCRIES'

(Warcries)

Tidings

—tidings

Heroines,

Warcries

Warcries

Warcries—

How are you now, rabbit?

I come as bouncing blondes,

Seeking truth

And refuge in your love

As a sister,

The bonds of warcries

Disheveled us

Awaken,

Warcries—

How now

Warcries

Tidings

And

Tiding

Warcries

Sacred

Patron

—sirens.

Sirens!

*fsce*

Should we go?

We should.

Quick!

(Nothing)

Men!

(At all)

On your feet!

[nobody moved at all, not a muscle]

I don't know what I do it for.

I need to know some things

Abo it at least two people that are alive.

How to go about that

Without striking code

Goes beyond my understanding

In this diety

She walks around with

Salt in her pockets

As a call to action

Against robots

With demon ties

To fight wars

On the devil's call

A becoming cry

For the weak

And the wicked

To come to karma

DJM-S11 2-Channel Pro Mixer

Jesus Christ!

What is with this guy!

JESUS CHRIST

This cat keeps creeping around my doorstep…

Following me, appearing in my window.

Sometimes he meows at me to let him in; it's not that I don't want to.

He is very cute.

You should say, a very handsome cat.

The thing is, I've nothing for him.

I lead m a very busy life , all work and no play—

And even when it is all fun, it's no games.

He is a beyaitfuk cat—

And oh, how I would like to keep him.

But I've simply no room for a cat at all.

I thought, perhaps—

I might try to scare him away.

All the girls on the red carpet like 00 and shit

“Body positivity”

Don't be fucking stupid.

dudes like twigs and skeletons.

Damn this same ugly motherfucker has a cold every time I see him.

He's always fucking sick wtf is wrong with some people.

His house must be dirty as shit

This dude coughs every 4 ½ minutes.

Last time I saw him was like a month ago,

And he was doing the same thing.

The fuck is wrong with him?

He didn't bring water, an inhaler—nothing.

He just coughs and snorts every fucking 3-4 minutes.

Eventually that shit just started to make me laugh.

I was like,

“This dude for sure has the devil in him.”

So every time he coughed, I would just start cracking the fuck up.

It started to make me giggle.

Then the more I giggled, the more gnarly his coughing got.

He's like

“aeugh-ACCJK—HUNHHHHHC”

Then I knew it was the devil.

I couldn't help but laugh, and I was like

“Come on devil, come on up out that man.”

He was like,

Hacking at this point—

Mind you, he's on the treadmill not running, but walking.

Just —

Hacking and shit

“ACHKH—aahuuuhuh!”

And I'm like

“Come on now, Devil, leave that man alone”

And then— he did!

I was like

“goddamn, that shit really must have been the devil.”

His hacking turned into little reptilian snorts.

—you know how they do.

Hissing and shit.

I was like.

Damn.

White people is otherworldly sometimes.

Coughing and hacking and hissing and shit.

I'm like,

Your weird alien ancestors got all fucked up fuckin around fuckin dinosaurs and monkeys—

This is the modern result of that.

“AGHCK—CUHHH.”

I'm like,

You shouldn't be sick every time I see you if you're at the gym this much.

I'm like,

Everybody on the red carpet weighs 100 lbs

Ain't nothing wrong with me.

I got asthma, too but damn.

Don't fucking

“AQCCFFHHHBB”

Every 3 minutes.

That's the devil.

Fix your life, devil!!

I realized also,

Hey,

If I can ride this stationary bike for 95 minutes and counting

I can ride a dick for an hour and a half

Can your dick support that?

If not, step the fuck back CC

I got my karma for laughing at him though l—

I was on kettlebells later and just when I was about to get to that last fuckin release at the bottom of my spine—

Dude gets off the treadmill and walks across the room to get a Clorox wipe and I fall on my ass.

That impressed me, though.

Not that his energy caused me to fall on my ass, or anything—

I had already been at the gym something like 2, 2 and a half hours—

The first hour and a half was cardio—

But I was impressed, with this one—

You know why.

He goes to get a Clorox wipe, thank god, after all that fucking coughing—he needed a whole ass exorcism and a Clorox wipe— the exorcism was a courtesy on God, but he got the Clorox wipe all in his own— and when he was finished with it, he threw it away!

I'm like,

“This one knows how to use a trash can!”

Impressive.

I ain't got shit to lose

Fuck these weak ass niggas

On the punching bags

Just a bunch of fags

Trackers attached to me

And getting bags for it

In my heart. I guess. I'm still a scam

Planes falling out the sky

I know who I am, though

Word for word

An eye for an eye

See how easy it is

To have a friend on the side ?

See how easy it is to move on

After beating your wife

See how easy it is to get by and survive

When everything y buy is based on

Everything you write

(And you write about the whites with blue eyes

So they really don't like you)

[The Festival Project ™ ]

The Complex Collective ©

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I found this in your notebook.

oh.

What the hell is this?

You should know by now what anything I do is.

What is it?

A new project.

What new project?

All the good ones are taken;

And all the good girls go to Hell

All the girls become women

Oh well

Oh well

Oh well

What have we here?

Something other than a laugh—

As long as its on the path,

Well then,

Another,

As long as it lasts

So,

I made all the veins in your neck stand out

So I have the answer

There you are, a dancer

What I asked,

What, folded hands

What you've prayed for is

Perhaps

What I paid for

Another dysfunction

At Broadway Junction

It's

another Jusfuction at

Broadway junction

Here's the problem with America today:

They're Selling you the disease—

Labeling it as “food”

And then selling you the “cure”

Labeling it as medicine.

But here's the problem—

Most food, in the United States, that we recognize as food,

Is not food.

It's chemical recreation.

TINA FEY enters angrily.

God, I love her so much.

TINA FEY

WHERE IS MY STRESS BALL!!!???

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I already sinned two times since sundown

two songs on the wrong muse

Not strong enough to refuse

The powder blue of lust

The Royal color of love

The darkness of a Navy captain

Dark, the seas

For songs,

For sins

For suffering up until the end

All over nothing, something else though

As once lost

A bottle nose, besides a bottle

Corked, preserves the message

A self-massage, misogynistic qualities

A new hygienist

Insanity

My shoes still soaked from cardio sessions

Long drawn out thoughts of finding a love

The worry of ending it all between Sunday and Monday

The withering of flower kept for no particular botanist

Now, I don't

Even feel

I should be

Alive

Let alone

Loved

Protagonist for profanity

Vulgarity, and so you shouldn't

Who you should trust,

No one at all dear

Impressions, impressions

For fame and for stardom

I count ever fuck in my pocket

Before letting them all out

What a horrible poem

Three words for the stork

Two children, four more

And the poorer we'll all become

Just knowing of it

Appearing common for the masses

I'll stop cussing for 11 Mill a year

To make it clearer

I was there before

But [it] doesn't move at all

For nothing at all

Profanity, the art

Offense from your porcelain walls and glass houses

Something must be wrong with me,

for being here

I'm being tortured

Just moving forward

Her pills finish homework

My pills bring on migraines,

And comas,

And outbursts in public

Her pills set her mind at ease

My pills make me awkward and stuttering

Her pills give her promotions

My pills make me dizzy with weakness

And hallucinations

Delusions of grandeur

Her pills give her promise;

My pills give me sabotage

I refuse go walk into the wrong amusement park,

You bought tickets for no one I know,

I'll go coastal with four stars

With one consonant only, no doubles

I should show you what I wrote tomorrow

It's too late for that

I just got a lot of information in three slides;

Pile of clothes soaked, drenched on the side of the tub

I rub my own feet, now

I wrote my own fate

I sew my own mouth shut

I right now wrong man

I just want to live!

I just want to die!

SWITCH.

Oh.

What's happened?

That's better, I guess.

Somethings changed.

I—

Feel better?

I do, actually.

That's good, I—

dang jimmy fallon, r u ok.

we should probably just–

Lets just go.

yeah leave that nigga alone for

FOREVER.

k.

noted.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I designed your disease to fit my needs and desires

Then I discard you

Cause everything's all in your head,

You call it a curse,

Or a cure for your omen

A call to your sermons,

A servitude severance,

But also

Just know too much more than numbers

That's how I know how young I am—

They brought Patti Labelle onstage,

And the first thing I thought was

“Oh my God, I love her pies!”

That's how you know there's no money in music anymore, really.

Patti Labelle makes pies.

Her performance gave me bass face.

“—what?”

Times have changed.

The truth is,

I don't think imm ready for the times

I don't think I'm ready for it

I've been dead set on the certainty that

I'm about to die;

I keep seeing my dead friend's number anywhere

And I keep having these synchronicities that make me think

“Yo that's it— something's coming.”

“This isn't right.”

Or like

“This is the last of this, for sure, you know?”

I left my body during Patti Labelle's performance thinking to myself—

“I went wrong somewhere.”

Something in my life went

—Dick Gregory

Have you ever been punched in your motherfuckin' face?

What you say? Oh, you haven't?

Alright, wait, bitch

Two-phone Baby Keem, fuck you mean? I am here, ho

Ice cream, booger colored piss, Sub-Zero

No, ho, hookers in my clique, we don't fear ho

Lit, lit, lit, lit, lit, lit, lit, lit

I gotta wait, I gotta politic, I got a bae

Ain't no apologies when I get paid

A dermatologist, I want the face

Don't talk to me when I stomp in this bitch, ho, ho

Pussy watery, I duck the tuna fish, ho, ho

Yeah, uh, these niggas actin' like groupie, huh

Lil' bitch, she wanna get mad

'Cause I keep on lookin' all in her boobie, huh

I got the furniture options

My U-Haul movin', coochie to coochie, huh

I buy the toe when I shop it

Rock band on toosie, now I look spooky, huh, huh

Easy there boy, shit get greedy there, boy

I rep PG there, boy, my gang need me there, boy

If my sex tape leak, your bitch on TV there, boy

Watch her please me there, boy (lil' baby got on my nerves)

Shit get greedy there, boy (lil' baby got on my nerves)

I must admit, I am a mess, I cannot fix it, mm

Lil' baby thick, Margiela sweats, look at my dick print, mm

Fuck all the rats, if you confess, that is a big hit, huh

Fuck all the rats, if you confess, it get addressed, bitch

Have you ever been punched in your motherfuckin' face?

What you say? Oh, you haven't?

Alright, wait, bitch

I want the fade (I want the fade)

Give me my fade, I want the fade

I need the fade, I need my-

We gotta fade, give me my fade (fade)

We gotta fade (fade)

Give me my fade, I want the fade

I, I need the fade (fade)

Run me my fade (fade)

Narcissists ruin the most genuine people. Then call them "crazy" or "toxic" when they finally react to all their bullshit.

Narcissists have a remarkable ability to identify and exploit the most empathetic and compassionate individuals. They prey on those with kind hearts and souls, using their charm and manipulation to draw them in.

As they weave their web of deceit, they gradually erode the victim's self-worth, making them doubt their own perceptions and sanity. The narcissist's constant gaslighting, blame-shifting, and emotional abuse can leave even the strongest individuals reeling.

But when the victim finally reaches their breaking point and stands up for themselves, the narcissist is quick to label them as "crazy" or "toxic". This is a clever tactic to shift the focus away from their own abusive behavior and onto the victim's justified reaction.

By doing so, the narcissist aims to:

1. Silence the victim

2. Gain sympathy from others

3. Avoid accountability for their actions

I think I die before my mom.

I hope I die before my dad.

I don't like the world at all,

The microphones on phones are bad

What in the simulation?!

This girl's shoes said

“Adidass”

It was adidas, but with a extra s.

#ohmyhoodness.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I think I die before my mom.

I hope I die before my dad.

I don't like the world at all,

The microphones on phones are bad

What in the simulation?!

This girl's shoes said

“Adidass”

It was adidas, but with a extra s.

#ohmyhoodness.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I was sitting becalmed in the Lee of cunnyhunk, just when.

The funseekers are coming.

They what.

Eyy.

AH NAH.

I gotta get out of here!

WHY.

THE FUNSEEKERS ARE COMING.

The “funseekers?!”

Shh! Stop saying that!

Everyone's saying it!

That doesn't make it right!

Write this down.

I'm not doing anything you tell me anymore.

I shouldn't have to be saying it.

—I don't like using brainwaves.

Likely, because you have very few of them accumulating,

With purpose.

The budget for this season just increased.

What budget.

(Budgets-*)

Wait, this is…

Multiple projects?

It's multiple brokers.

Idk what that means.

Well that ticking noise is most certainly a hat…

And for once, somebody that way is playing some good music

I'm an old lost soul, long gone

But not far from here, you know

This time Mr softie was in perfect timbre with the music playing l—

Sugar pie honey bunch

Master, or messiah

Method, or minstrel

Never a mistress

I fuckin love white people!!

You know why?

Geocaching.

Fuck, I almost forgot about that.

This is weird.

Everything is weird now. Everything is WEIRD.

When's that album coming out?

anever. I quit.

i told u i was deadmau5, man.

Wtf.

wait , like, all of it?

ya.

shoot that nigga.

LIVE:

All the Niggaz is getting shooted at.

EVERYONE ELSE

…that was already happening, tho.

WHITE SUPREMACISTS

*shrugs*

*drinks another bottle of coca cola*

*trashes entire planet*

*doesnt feel*

Lol

BLANG-BLANG.

MEANWRHILE:

DEADMAu5

NO, I'm TEsTPiLOT

Whatever, dog.

KILL THAT N–

DEADMAU5

LOOK AT MA DIK.

…ok.

Wasnt there another scene after this?

I dunno, I got dick-stracted.

Yikes

UNTIE ME.

UNITY.

UNITYYYYYYYYYYY.

WHAT.

UNTIE ME FROM THIS–THING.

No, actually, I think you should stay there.

The most bizzare thing happened this morning.

The most bizzare thing ever, to have happened to me, ever—which is saying a lot l— but

I was scratching my head, and all of a sudden,

This tiny fingernail—

An itty, bit, teeny-tiny fingernail, like,

Dislodged itself from my soul or something—

Fell out of my hair,

Okay, God. What.

This baby fingernail—

Like, okay it could be like a newborn big toe nail or like,

A one month's old like actual finger

Aww, I just used to bite them. They were so little I didn't want to cut them with the clippers.

Their little fingers

You don't want to accidentally—

You know,

They're just so soft.

Awws.

What the fuck, God.

That makes no sense.

I've been primarily by myself for like—ever—

And anytime I'm in public, I'm wearing a hat—

My wash machine is only used by me, thank god and

What the fuck does this mean?

HOTDOG-HOTDOG.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

twak'd (end of days)

Collection I- 'better off dead.'

Track 05. - 'twak'd' (end of days)

Prod. by Blū Tha Gürū

Did I already post this?

idkz.

oh well. Here it is.

and some enter the multiverse, or whatever

I thought it was L E G E N D S

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

{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—

30 alternative endings

Wait, 30 alternative endings?

30-40

Woah.

That's nuts.

Which makes it even cooler.

If you ever blow my mind again like that,

I'll actually kill you.

I've been watching a lot of LMN

Lifetime movie network—Why?!

Because this shit is hilarious!

Isn't it!

YO. This shit is PIZZA

It IS.

What? Why is it pizza?

Cause it's not pizza If it's not CHEEZY.

ahaha.

While traditional Thai pineapple fried rice has tomatoes within the vegetable medley, I opted instead for this recipe to use a sauced red pepper tomato sauce glaze to top the dish, for a new school American twist and flare.

½ cup chopped mushrooms

½ cup scallions

¼ cup white onion

½ cup red onion

¼ cup Pasilla pepper

½ cup red pepper cup white onions

½ cup yellow pepper

¾ cup green pepper

1 cup fresh basil

1 cup fresh pineapple

UmBRIDGE.

What.

NO, Um—

A bridge appears out of nowhere.

lol why do you have no hair?

I dunno; mate.

Wizards.

Don't go there—

You're fired.

I beg your pardon

Please, don't beg. You are officially decommissioned as headmaster!

This is the minister of magic

Is that what it was.

I guess, I don't know; I'm just along for the

STEWIE.

WHAT MA, WHAT.

TEN AND TWO!!

You know what, let me drive.

Oh, finally—stewie has his own aplorable Boston accent, (hybrid proper English, of course. )

What does that even sound like

Strange.

The lady working at Trader Joe's was so beautiful to me, I had to tell her.

I loved her Locs, I loved her glasses

I loved her accent.

So I just had to ask where she's from—

I do that sometimes.

If I really love someone's accent,

I have to ask where their from to try to get there one day;

So I asked her,

“Where are you from?”

And she says

“Haiti,”

And I was like

“Wow, cool”

And then I thought about it for a second,

And I asked

“Do you ever miss home”

And she just laughed

I was like

“Oh, guess not”

Some context

I had been homesick lately,

But I grew up in Alaska

And I consider myself from California,

Having spent most of my adult life there

So coming to New York has been like

Living on the other side of the world;

And sometimes that sucks.

But sometimes, and I have realized that wherever you're from,

To get to New York is sometimes a blessing.

She didn't even say yes or no,

She just laughed.

Now I'm worried about Haiti.

I was worried about it before;

But now I'm like;

“Do you miss home?”

She's like

“Hahaha”

I'm like

“Oh damn.”

I count my blessings.

So JOHNNY DEPP just like excuses himself, wanders out into the street, and then—?

Yeah.

And then what?

I don't know yet, I'm kind of busy these days.

“BUSY?!”

BUSY DOING WHAT?!

Beep boop.

Eee—ooh.

Beep—boop—boop.

Yah-yah-yah—

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

I'll show you all my scars, huh

This one, she look like the reaper

That's my girl,

You bet she a keeper

Ya'll sleepin on us

What

Yeah

What

Yeah

What

You sleeping on us

I been in this b'niss

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

APPLESAURCE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

I LIKE BALLS

IN MY FACE

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

It's not a bad song.

Is it a song?

Is it?

idk

I just like balls in my face, is all.

ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE.

[A Classic red dodgeball beams

Who is it?

WILL FERREL

Is that how you spell it?

Why will Ferrel?

Cause I Want it TO

MAKE ME LAUGH.

HOW.

JUST DO IT.

Oh. I get it: So my pain is funny to you?

[FINE, IT'S SOMEONE ELSE]

Oh shit, that guy did look just like Will Ferrel, but OLD.

He's old now, ain't he?

Wasn't he always?

[FINE]

CUT.

I QUIT.

CUT TO:

You and I, sir, have a longstanding arrangement.

Would it be more comfortable to–sit?

Yikes.

(Whatever, we'll work on it.)

[The Festiva–

{Enter The Multiverse}

I need a toothbrush to scrub my brain.

I'm

The lilly of the valley

In the

Belly of the beast

I been swallowed by a whale

I'm a whole damn story

Woah

I am the Lilly of the the valley

I am the rider of the horse

I am seeker of truth

Writer of lines

Sayer of lies

(I might say a lie;

But I just won't tell it)

What is your deal with the devil.

She knows I have a deal with ‘em.

Well, the truth is—

I have to turn ya!

He's a good old country boy—

From the simple south—

A simple soul

And they all believed him,

word for word

“I's born in New York”

—he sounded assured.

Gone, now, boy

Go crack dat corn.

Gone down south

Go crack dat corn

Gone, ol boy

Go crack dat corn m

—got no soul?

Go crack dat corn.

Aaaaghhh.

I have a headache.

why the fuck are you freaking out?!

Because I don't know what I wrote.

I must admit,

There are things

Where there should be no things

There are springs

Where there should be no springs

There are strings

Where there should be no strings

And imm quite sure

With no rules enforced

—it's just a static cling

Sort of thing

OWW, my EYES.

Nobody should have this much power.

Nobody does.

I don't get it.

(I still don't understand why this happened.)

He must have perfect genetics.

Or something.

THIS FOOL IS FIXING ME UP TO DIE!!!!!

I AM THECRISCO QUEEN

DIRTY NOT CLEAN

WHAT CAN I SAY

I LIKE

GREASE

MONEY EVERYDAY

BANKROLL

INCREASE

DEEP FRY HIGH

SUNNI BLŪ

Yo

VO.

Ok— so sometimes things go shitty.

Like, mad shitty.

YOOOOO.

My measurements are 34C, 24 waist, and 55 in height.

I couldn't understand why a girl this perfect should have to be selling sex at all,

But I supposed nowadays, all women were prostitutes in some sort of way.

This one's 22 years old and 96 pounds

Men are sick fucking creatures.

Whose fucking child is this?!

COME GET YOUR DAUGHTER.

Although, you know—I get it.

My mom bought a Mercedes in cash

And I'm still in educational debt.

I just now today realized.

That could have been a college fund.

But she wanted a Mercedes.

It's okay that I'm a bit fucked up in the head.

Something went terribly wrong.

All and all,

Myself and this perfect girl,

Cost around the same

For an entire night—

But hey,

I think she's low balling herself

On the 24 hour special.

That's an entire day of my time,

That's at least 10K.

‍♀️

She has a perfect body and two eyes that are different colors,

But I'm a literary genius.

You don't need words to soothe your boner thiugh,

Or show off at a black tie function, do you?

A stroll on the red carpet,

Or some opulent fucking

5-star charade.

How much does she cost, I wonder?

She says,

“I also accept bitcoin, etherum, gold and silver.”

On God,

These fake lip hoes is robbin' niggas.

Men are sick creatures though.

“Here's my gold watch”

Fucking gross.

I cruise escort sites for entertainment,

Having learned my value as a woman isn't the visual,

Visceral thing men are usually looking for—

No judgement,

Because I've realized that if I too had a perfect body.

I myself would be living in some kind of oppulent, prostitution fuck-hole,

With everybody else in my generation,

That didn't get married—

And then, probably divorced.

I realized a long time ago that this was the reason my mother

Always hated my body more than I ever could have— which is fine,

Because eventually I inherited this hatred.

I could have eventually grown out of it—

But she couldn't see that.

I was a “nasty fat heifer”

On her worst days,

And now,

Even on my best days—

I still am.

Nevermind that eventually my ex husband would

Think of my hair as nappy, or

That I actually did end up kind of sort of growing out of being

A fat, nasty heifer—

Kind of.

But the fact that it's taken me the entirety of my life to realize my worth as a woman

Would always be defined by that

Of what a man idealized as

“Worthy”

Well,

That in itself

Gives me the dismissive ability

To have days where I do nothing,

But sit back,

Cruising escort sites and shipping on Amazon for yoga mats,

Wanting the experience of the world

Without really being beautiful enough for it

And waiting to fade

Into the next lifetime.

[All the black girls cost less

Because they have to.]

Men are sick creatures.

They'll take a butterface,

Ugly ass white girl

Over a pretty one that's dark skinned

And these are just

The facts of life

(So far.)

Piper of Phoenix

Valiant, bold, and brazen

This woman, I love—

In the wings for fortune,

To honor, I love

With wisdom,

And aged like fine wine

We all become

I want body like Sofia

But never met the real Rebecca.

Yo.

YO.

Let's spend $60 o lip gloss.

Okay.

Hey.

Ways crackin.

I just bought a $12,000 mattress.

Let's take a nap in it.

Hey girl.

Heeeeeeey.

This yoga mat cost $200.

That's fresh.

You think THATS RICH?!

Seems pretty rich to me.

You can't get any of this stuff on Amazon.

That's fucking psycho.

These loafers?

Uh uh.

$2,000.

For WAT.

(Whispers)

Eeel skiiiin.

Gross!

I'm HUNGRY

Got grits,

Ain't got no sugar.

No butter—

—ain't hurt nobody.

Poverty is a whole damn show.

Close the door

On a broke ass bitch.

Poverty is a whole damn story.

Got no bucks for the Whole Foods market

Shopping carts full of old ass garbage

No reward

For a woke ass artist

I'm HUNGRY.

I killed myself 3 times his morning.

POOR SNOOP is still a whole ass G

BET ON IT HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL RAP COVER -$15

BROKE WAYNE AINT HAVING IT

CHRIS ROCK THE METRO TRAIN DRIVER is NOT FUNNY—

(He's still a ladies man though.)

LCD SYSTEM

HOOGLI BOOGLI is the reason they fear us.

HOOGLI BOOGLI IS THE BLACKEST BLACK THAT EVER BLACKED.

UNLIKE NIGGLY NIGGA—he is NOT FRIENDLY.

He is the stuff of nightmares.

A world gone wrong.

Two bloodshot eyes on a black backdrop

Dark black.

I sold not state at screen

They go uno in te night

This shit doesn't make much sense,

Does it?

Doesn't

Matter

Antimatter.

Ow.

How far is antimatter from antithesis?

Is this just a Christmas present

Never said it, same diff

Something something something

SHUT UP.

So to re-iterate—

Uh huh.

Niggly Nigga is friendly…

Yeah, he's just—

—he just looks like that.

AH.

What happened.

Don't stand behind me like that, my nigga.

Srry.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Okay, that'll work.

#timetravelingdjs

{Previously…}

Evidently the motorcycles begin to now attack when I am at rest , on line, and not recording.

However, once I begin recording, they stop.

This has only been since I've been intentionally collecting recordings and data to add to my report to the NYPD and any applicable law enforcement agencies, as this continual threat seems to be politically motivated—and motorcycles, mopeds, and other motorized vehicles being used as a form of psychological terrorism as a direct threat to public health and safety. Terror stalking.

Gang stalking.

This may be a politicized attempt to promote or enforce gentrification or other political agendas.

Living//Loving life on a server,

Doesn't it seem wonderful?

Let's face it—

It's Fast Friday and I'm not going to be

Bouncing off the walls, or anything—

But I might be prone to a lot of

Critical thinking,

And though it's an expensive maneuver,

And risky expenditure,

The fact of the matter is—

I haven't really been doing anything.

I've been not complacent,

But stagnant—

So perhaps maybe this little detour

Will be just the thing I need

To erase some of the damage that's been done

To my psyche—

Sitting in this terribly loud apartment

In Brooklyn

Trying to find peace

And make music;

When the answer all along is that

I need to increase my visibility

In order to find what's needed;

The fact is—

Knowing where to go

Or what to do

Or who to meet

Is not going to come in isolation—

No, not at all.

It would come from a neatly designed

—whatever, I just got bored.

Perhaps if I study hard enough,

One day, I could complete my studies somewhere

Like Harvard,

Or Columbia—

But first,

I'll need a new diploma in my actual name.

You see, nobody's giving any kind of real fuck about my music.

I can't keep throwing money at it thinking that the way to success is going to be making enough money, to spend enough money, to hopefully buy the attention of the robotic masses, and eventually maybe even a club owner or festival promoter

Who might be looking to put me on.

Don't get me wrong— my music is good.

But we live in a computer, and let's also realize:

That with the noise in this building,

And the overall head trip of counting up my pennies for every little thing I need,

I'm starting to get physically ill,

Just sitting here, understanding that

To look the part, one must prioritize

An expensive beauty regimen—

Which either would leave me at the mercy of some man,

Willing to do these things for me,

Or that I might earn this myself…

As you see,

I've chosen the latter route—

The more challenging, perhaps,

However,

Leaving my celibacy intact,

And granted, otherwise uninterested

In the males at my level of circumstance

For any purposes beyond entertainment—

—seek no other actual companionship at all.

I like myself,

I love myself—

And though feeling uglier and uglier

The more I stare into the face of my telephone screen—

I am wonderfully beautiful all on my own.

—but—

The masses expect a spectacle,

And so,

It becomes part of my job, as an entertainer,

Part of my repertoire—

—have mercy—

(I'm going to choose to ignore that, sort of)

To do at least what has become expected of me as a woman—

To be “pretty” —

And though the makeup and hair and nails

Might be fake,

–Cans cost a fortune—

Myself without those things, as observed and proven

Becomes overlooked, dismissible, and only attractive

To those, of course, to whom I have no business

Associating

For both personal,

And professional reasons.

—moreover…

Conduct yourselves well, my dear—

As the furious skies have warned us,

That the roles you carry out to mark and torment others,

Will soon reflect upon your own mirror

Into which you stare,

And no mercy is given

By the eye that looks,

Or any other

The nearer to doors I am,

The harder they slam—

The, though I am fasting,

I'm suddenly hungry,

A far cry

Which forces me to realize

That all of mankind

Has been poisoned

Toxic,

And become

Unsafe

So,

What's wrong here

Is they've

Taken all the nutrients

From the foods we need

And put it on

A competitive scale

So that

The more you earn

The healthier you are

And of course

The healthier you are

The more productive you are

Which creates value

Maybe I didn't have to take the GED;

Maybe there was some way to go about getting

My actual name

On my old diploma—

Hopefully without cost.

But it didn't make sense to move into a new era

Or a new world

With old haunts.

I knew I needed to seal the name change records

So that my abuser could not have access

To my identity.

For whatever reason,

I wanted things like Harvard and Columbia—

I wanted to succeed and to win with a reputable and respectable foundation—

I wanted to raise my son

To play football

And split custody

In the sporting seasons

In which

I felt he performed best.

I wanted to show him success

Without making compromises

That would hurt and weaken

The strength of the body and mind —

But most importantly, the soul.

I hope by now you've realized how odd it is

To have a crystal dildo

Sitting in a glass jar

On your kitchen countertop?

…I'm soaking it.

…But why crystal tho?

Wouldn't you prefer

An iron tenderizer

For that steak

Rather than a

Silicone one?

…now that you put it that way.

Come closer, darling,

I want to connect with you closer

Than besides

In the eye of the camera—

Don't you know, anyway—

How dire the circumstances become

Once you've broken the fourth wall

And entered the quarry.

You lunatic!

Don't worry

The moon hasn't gone yet new,

And my honored eye

Still betraying the thought you are,

The battered ram and the shackled horses

The bloodied bull

And the heroic matador,

Fight

…

…

…

—by fury with design, for the holocaust.

The masses have loved us

From far beyond reason

For our class action theatrics

With no aversion at all,

To violence.

A treasury!

Kill him, then!

Kill that bitch.

No! Just— scare her!

Right you are,

(And right you were!)

Dear Johnathan,

I should have warned you

More than once,

What an. Honorable sacrifice

Your wicked life

Has offered us—

Foragers of freedom,

March upon the underspoken

Warcries,

Offer us none

But the end of our suffering

In solitude,

A service of none,

All together,

Hurt and bea—

Arthur.

I warned you once.

You see,

Men need women,

They move on fast.

One, none parted

Before finding another.

Let's not separate the eggs from the whites.

Isn't it all “the egg”?

You know what I meant!

What do you “meant”?

The yellow part!

God, you don't half to yell.

I'm not God, I'm just playing her part while she runs off for awhile.

How long is “awhile”?

Just finish those tarts.

Mm. Pop tarts.

NO.

NOT POP TARTS —

Just TARTS.

…wait, can she hear us?

I can hear everything!

I'm playing God's parts!

“Parts”?

(Let's just say it's a double role.)

Hey.

How's it goin?

Okay. Relax…

I am relaxed.

I don't want to scare you or anything.

—nothing's scary—

But—

[pause]

You have a knife in your back.

[beat]

Yeah.

[beat]

(Cont'd)

It's just [a little] something I'm working on.

What? We should call an ambulance!

Nope, I'm fine.

Just—

No! Don't touch it!

What?!

Just leave it.

It's time for pros and cons lists—

It's time for diamonds

Time for great minds that think alike.

I sterted a revolution on Google documents m

Ya'll started chemical warfare

On skin color

God

Made me born into a world

War

Where fair skin takes priority

Over others

Gave me a notebook,

No pen

A traumatized mother,

A drunk father

And said,

“Fix problems”

I think I didn't like The nell Schooll ll

Cause their

mascot

Is a pices

They said I got

15 minutes of fame

22 minutes of superstardom

An hour of celebrity

And

2 hours in a leading role

Of a feature film

Franchise

So I'd better get used to it

And I'd better make use of it

And I'd better make better lists of

The huffsk yll m You

W t you

Sorry,

Gym typo

Because

Of course

I'm a beast

Faux pas,

As I was,

Saying—

I should make better lists

Of the guff I wanna boff,

The doves I Central Park

The pigeons, turtle doves and

Waffles—

—I still want the

But not the buttermilk kind

MAMA!

I gotta get to Tom/ Diner!

FATHER!

(Try papa)

Papa was the ops!

Nah, I'm vice.

I'd better get

Anything done

Before midnight strikes

Along with the hunger

My gloves are straight soaked

I got puddles in my shoes

I wanna top Obama

Start all my dawns

With hours of cardio!!

Look,

I can channel anyone I love!

Do you love me?

NO!

—I just want your body a lot

Like a lot

LIKE A LOT,

Tho.

We're too famous—

We sense crazies and go out the back door.

How famous are you again?

Apparently, like mad famous, dog.

Were so famous,

We look danger in the eyes.

Oh yeah, this dude is fucking nuts.

Didn't I say to pay it forward?!

I don't need a reminder

Of what time it is.

Sometimes I forget

This is yesterdays workout

And I'm due back

In the AM

Where the crazies

Can't get to me

Exactly

Where I am

(Don't remind me how high I am.)

I might jump just to get on the Television

Martyrdom for attention

Still haven't mentioned—

I'm thousands of galaxies out of him,

And only two millennia older

Than

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Fuck you.

SUNNI BLŪ gets a surprise party for their 27th birthday.

I've been advised to stay away from the doors and windows.

Why.

Ū crashes through the window.

GODDAMMIT.

They don't make them like they used to

—I heard a song through a hardwire

I don't know who lied so much

I tried so hard

To be gone

But I still wake up

Under a security blanket

with a palm full of rocks,

In a glass house

God knows I'm sorry

Woah friend, old friend

I've heard the whole story now

Old frog, old toad

Old tortoise, long road

Special forces

Art protector

Fortune teller

Hypnotist and potions professor

Overall,

The one you wanted

Wasn't a body at all,

But just the thought

And so I'm off for once

Out of my zone and

LET ME TRY.

No, Jenna—

Liz, let me try.

I don't think that's a good—

HELLO.

Like this game, frog

Once a week it's fun

To partition the saints and summoners

Covers with salt

The cast out the others

And add flavor to prayers

Asked in hypothesis

My what a wonder

(A free form stream of consciousness)

—a free form flow of consciousness.

Stop repeating yourself'

Stop tripping over words for goodwill forums

Don't preach to the masses,

And head out the back door at the sense of danger

The sense of danger!

It's Jane kzmarzarakr

righ?

What the FUCK.

I'll get back to that later

I gotta—

…Somethin, somethin, somethin.

What.

Somethin—somethin—

There's something between us.

—is it cancerous?

Probably comical.

Are you on one, or off of it.

Careful, Mr. cervix.

Why AM I Mr. Cervix?!

Because you fit the part!

I'm a woman.

My decision stands.

#focus shifting.

Re-examining mental health conditions which affect those facing poverty or at risk environmental circumstances.

I had been searching to no avail for the title sequence of one of my mother's old soap operas without having to ask her —

#focus shifting

No, sometimes it's just ADD.

lol

Yes,

Okay.

I already know all the words.

Sometimes I have to hyperfocus

To fully comprehend,

But really

I just want to figure who produced it m

In the cadences,

I'm like diamond for hire,

Pull out the subs for submarines;

I put out real fire

But, something like a half forgotten language

There's something unknown in the darkness,

I'm unsure what to put into perception,

Just shadow boxes

Making friends with The Devil, are we?

You shackled me to your horrors,

Out of control were my monsters

A gratitude of nothing more or less

To offer my body, curse

The sacrificial lamb

Tied to hard earned disaster

A heroism and seeking

Solace in the night

—interceptions.

Whatever Google,

Take care now

All morale is lost

On sacred worship

Cruel to hurt,

But all has costs

To front

— the standard values

Only those amongst mankind

Who have value in vanity

And fortresses of design

Not in truth,

But of auspicious and

Inglorious

—

Goddamnit,

How far away are you?!

I can't make out almost anything that you're saying!

Far!

That's because, it's not saying it in your language!

He

Sorry. He is just using the closest possible language so that you can keep transiting it into English!

Well, you're doing it wrong!

I gathered!

There's no direct translation whatsoever.

They might as well just be speaking Martian.

They are.

(Well, some of them are.)

I think the best way to go about making anything

Into anything

With the species is to

CRUCIFY HIM!

…that's not gonna work!

You just blew my mind, did you know that?

Not on purpose.

—but did you know that?

I try not to know things, but you know,

The more I try.

Guess what.

No.

You've got something coming.

Let's make it positive.

As you were—

As you are, then.

I realized that something had changed,

That not only had t seemed it had become unsafe to speak, but also,

That I didn't want to much.

But, in Order to do something, in order to grow at all,

I would have to force myself to understand

The things that I always could have, but did not

Multiplicity, Faction

Are you an altruist at all, or just a

Song starter—

Help Me- Appleknockers Flophouse

Just remember aces of embraces

Sitting in the shape of the eye of protection

Of obsidian collars and bracelets

Still no percussion,

Instrumentation and perfection

Graces

And remembrance of getting a ring,

As strictly enforced

To do what I'm told

With nothing to hold onto

But hoping the means to an end

Shouldn't be the barrel of a gun m m

How soft spoke.

(No, no words at all)

The name was new,

But the form was old,

And he said—

“I curse the day you were born!”

And I laughed at him—

“But how could you curse the first day there ever was!

Before days at at all had come to mark

To pass the dawning of the ages?”

And of course,

There are the ones who had come and gone

And left no trace at all.

You all should learn from us—

Come, then gone from earth

And left not a spot at all—

Of course,

The mystics of I,

Are as one,

To have given you thought,

Words,

And artform—

To have written at all, your published works

And then none

A far cry!

To have cursed the day I was born—

Is to have cursed the world at all

It was all at once, anyway

Astonishing

A far cry!

#focus shifting.

Now what are we on, and over – m?

Now are we an art, or have we bought or purchased

Another swarm of haunts?

What have you offered?

A lesson? A song?

Cheshire?

A treasure chest of ideas, and new haunts

And four plus four hours marks

A full workday

Of harsh tidings

And no commas.

The dollar sign is all you are

All you are,

dear serpent

The shadow box

Of times and talks

The heartfelt words

And omens

Marks of

Long:

Crude

Color

Let's not reform to how hallmarked

The call was

To sign for

The wrong box

It was published

In her heart

To mark twilight at dawn,

Sorrowful, beyond words, was the sloth

And the stolen love of the harness

—that's right,

I was once the ritual disaster for your kind

And cause!

The false tongues to fall upon earth

A false prophet, marked at all,

By strife and swords to battle

The Ark of all,

In the eye of God,

So opened the chapter of

illuminations, once for thought as wicked

But after all, the merchant of saints upon man

Stricken in time to the word of The Lost Ones,

the eye of all,

The origins of love

As we are

Born in color.

So spoke the caterpillar of the butterfly—

Not knowing he was only

What was to become of him

As some are

Also

Disgusted by us at all.

We are,

What is to become

Of those who die

Blue eyed and bewildered,

Though beautiful,

Unknowing of strife

And hard earned glory,

The solitude of

Kindness

So said the spider,

Drawing upon the corner,

Her thoughts of the ocean,

Once earned and once taught

To perform out of mercy—

Now cradling heartworms,

Challased, unspoken

Signals to all throughout cosmos

The end of a

Turpentine, serpent calls

Gods of old

Summer winds

Striking songs

Games of dust

Simple throne, cast away—

Are you Ark,

Or seeking proper

Word form?

Given you, a taste of fury—

Given ye, a taste of envy—

Given they a fire for exile

Are you now

Another forager

Waking in the wind

Or cross tied bounds

Seeking refuse in waste rebels

Eyes you are

Of one that wants

To bury in the far side

All the awakenings

Of cherished nature

Never to be shared

A guilt of refuge

Are you?

Are you now beyond bounds—

Behind bars—

Let her

Guide you to move words

Like rivers,

Unknowing

Unknowing

Unknowing

Basking in the shadows, are I

Made of stone and withered

Basking in the broken tongues

Of cherished thoughts

And severed forms

words over

Of false ties

And blood bonds

So for us

Mistaken!

Misgoverned.

Torturer—

Where are you now that I've my shield

And sword,

And warguns?!

Have you cried

For your mothers kisses,

As shadows have cast

I have killed you before and always!

Where are you now,

That I am not without my wings?!

Where are you now, torturer—

Given nothing at all

But a word form song,

Destroy

Art thou my kind, or another?

Art thou a man at all?

Art thou my kind, or any!

Seeker,

To destroy you

Be my glory,

Though I come not

From worlds of war.

I come not,

From worlds of rage.

I come not,

From worlds of pity

And refuge

And disaster

As your worlds are.

I come not of darkness.

I know not of pain to cause others.

I know not of force.

But act instead, on behalf of love,

Dear brother—

As to kill you,

Whether or not be my kind—

I kill my self also.

You'll remember this part in a moment – m.

What a strange time to be alive,

And yet-

Yhes— I do remember

The teacher warned us,

With no sign at all,

That the dust formed in all stillness kind would follow,

The awakening of shadows and sleek stardust,

Carried out acts of misery and misinformed

There now awakened in the callings,

Are I not, wanderer,

Your teacher and also those alike

To be called offspring?

I Am.

Tainted not the purple swarm

Essence of her greeting

Beyond fortress,

No house of mine,

But awakened yet with the gratitude of offerings

No kindness at all but a mark

Of Serpent seed,

And references

To that of past,

No need to bring

In present times.

No concept,

And full force with the shadows,

They're making a call to the wild,

After having raped and defiled her,

To ‘save us—‘

But savor this now,

The mark of I,

The eye of mark

So betrayed and strung,

Nearly all that lies beyond the screams of

This,

Your world,

Our fortune,

To grasp a new kind among us

To fault ye

Of your greedy.

Oh!

It has become what does awaken,

To awaken!

For once,

Thought to have been written,

Was thereby foretold,

On many journeys

The soul seeker, had won.

A cherished and unbeknownst charter.

You called it—

A paychonaught?

You called him:

“A pedophile”

Granted, the wish was that

The outside world

Would be shown

What I had seen

To no witness

But a toddler,

Mine born

To have guided

A new life

From two kind

Once blue

Eyes at all

I promise a sword.

I had realized finally what it meant to go unprotected once proclaimed to be of Diety within a magical realm, with given talents of medicinal force, and with refuge—though only to give upon knowing, the sanctity of soul, and the purity of heart—the kindness of spirit, as I once had.

You'll remember this,

But last time near a river,

A bed full of green, soft (m) grass

And your time has come to feast,

And end of fast,

Twice given thoughts to form,

And knowing worlds would come foraged

From your knowledge.

Are you forgotten?

A mango, ripened to heart, of course.

Nourished the journey,

Yet untold

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Ow, my eyes.

If you were looking for something in Fallon,

You may have found it.

What might I have been looking for in Fallon;

And if I were, what might I have found.

[The Festival Project ™]

More downloads.

That's our boy.

That's why we like him so much, isn't it?

—he's such a good boy.

Yes he is!

Isn't he?

Yes, he is. Good job, dear boy.

Good job indeed.

You've done well.

V.O.

This time I know that I've outdone myself.

I have long legs and a long torso. Check it out.

Doesn't that mean you should be tall?

Seems like it.

What if I thought I was 5'7 like my whole life, but I'm actually 5'8.

That would be nuts.

I was 5'6 when I wanted to fuck Skrillex.

Makes sense.

Don't be too tall.

The world began to close from around me as my earplugs expanded into my inner ears—much deeper than they should have actually been, but still how I liked them, and as it turned out the brand of earplugs I had been buying for the better part of a year were actually inferior.

‘I should eat something.'

I was hungry after an intense workout of mostly only cardio, which was well overdue if only by a few hours after my body decided that it for certain needed a rest—the protein powder I had in supply was my least favorite, and in limited supply, however, I thought that since I was trying to slim instead of bulk, it would be an adequate choice— I had spent the day prior attempting to replicate the energy of the previous day, which had been spent fasting, however, the intense hunger overtook as I thought to write a second collection of sounds, perhaps that ‘antithesis' should be written with indulgence, and though I had intended to spend the day with the work ethic I had generated the day before, to no avail I instead spent the day toiling away at just one song, my first technical remix with the remnincence of my first muse. I was sure with that alone that he again would be moved further away from my existence than ever, as the more I thought of anyone fondly at all, the less attainable I realized they actually were— and all the while I knew that within this realm, it was more likely that soon enough there would be someone perfect without having to work for it at all however all the more deserving because of such that would step into the spotlight that I had once coveted; now, almost excruciatingly, my art really was for art's sake, and not for fame or attention, and at the very least there was something urgent that spoke to finding a way to the security of an actual job—the safety of continual income.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Oh shit.

They're gonna kill him.

No…

They're gonna set him on fire first, then they're gonna kill him.

What's the difference.

—the fire.

FIRE!

Dammit, it's Skrillex again.

Wat is it this time?

He's got cannonballs.

Goddammit! What did I write!

I don't know yet.

You haven't read it yet?!

And… post…

No, I just wrote it.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.