It smells like dill in here
At least it doesn't smell like dead mouse.
How would you be Hellen Miren
Well, you better do it quick
Better get your shit toggether, paint a l
Bitter Betty gliching steady
Just remember when you're ready
Ever steady still forgetting dinner
Remind me why I'm on this speeding bullet to nowhere
Had no other options but to go under for something
Shy, sickness it's a secret
Something like a magnet, attracted,
And soulless bodies, tied to money
Wonder what was in the vaccum cleaner meaning
What did you suck up, dude
And the audience is robots
Nothing really works more than once, if it's really magic
Sit and do nothing would you
Fall over like the mannequin you are
A mattress without a bespost, if it matters
We all go downtown every once or twice a note
But there's no sense in it,
If everything and everyone else is just as nasty
Just is just a test, again
Or already stocked up for Hanukkah, Hollywood
Where's your homeland deposit box
Closest to the moon, I wrote another poem for you
Sorry that I wasn't on the offering table
The parakeet, pigeon and pirated Slattery,
All with the Amazon packages,
What corporation to you belong to!
Something corporate , or say anything
Whose to say Jeff Besoz won't replace us
With m robots with thought processes,
If once such could project as such presence
Meanwhile, I've got a butload of buckets and bunts,
Bullletwounds, eyes on Manhattan and happens to wish something bad upon me
(But who knows if what he wanted was all of the bodies opposite of him)
I don't belong on this planet
You're almost a robot, get out of my peripheral
Geez, I must really want a menorah
There's no one alive here
Honor the box of offerings as
What could be under your tongue
Just to touch with the battery acid or chemical trails
You have left in your axis
Nobody knows better than this
How close it is to touching
Psychotron, sure we're all robots now
The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū
What the FUCK did you DO?
I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you.
Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing.
What the fuck does that got to do with me.
I want all of it. By my desk, by noon tomorrow.
Yes, BY. Not ON. I've got too much stuff on my desk—
…but it's…like 9 o clock.
Should be easy, given your natural talents.
This sucks. I lost all my coins.
What the fuck. You fucking DICK.
I told you, I own shares in this.
So what's the plan for this, exactly.
And a yellow envelope marked
I haven't even smited you yet.
I will annihilate you, human.
Who the fuck are you, anyway?
No one cares about this series, yo.
I'l seriously doubt that, Jesse Pinkman.
This is not what I ordered—
Alright. This should be good for the night, but we gotta get out of here by morning;
I thought your parents owned this place.
So it's like only —part of the time.
No! You're stupid! You're the one who got us into this mess.
It's your mess, I was just cleaning it up!
That's it. I'll be a stripper.
Straight outta hell, that kid.
Stuff it, J. Slatts. I'll kill you with my eyeballs
I thought I was already pretty.
I don't know if I'll ever be on the same vibration as like,
Jimmy Fallon and them, ok?
I don't know how I did it;
I don't know what did it,
It just happened and then—
I'm not trying to offend anybody here.
What are we going to do to sell you this dream?
Doesnt matter what you do, I'll never believe it.
Sure, fine; Don't believe it—
We're gonna make you live it.
Who the hell us “we” anyway?
Now you're speaking in my cadence—
Never fear where love has dared
Don't be suprised even the odds seem to turn in your favor,
For what has just happened here.
Ugh, I can't go through this again.
So, I guess I'll have to erase,
Everything I've ever written
About my actual experience as a color,
Just so that I can earn money
That I can't see far enough up to just
Wondering what the world would be like
At the other end of the spectrum
The wicked witch of all directions,
I've been abandoned before
But this disservice, is, I'm afraid
The best advice I can take is just
To go straight to the bank with my angst and my hatred
So here comes the nameless
Manipulation of the Mass Media
In a whole room full of humans
I'm groomed to be useful for something,
I could sit down with a paper and pen,
But I'm filling up all of my documents
It's just another song, or something
Goddamnit it, more coughs again.
I told you not to watch this.
Maybe you're having a stroke again.
Chyeah, a stroke of genius.
Well, there goes the captain.
where is that scene, anyway?
I don't know, I just wrote it.
Great, she left the door open.
It's “the black box” she called it “the black box”
Goddamn, do you listen to all her stuff?
“Fear stimulates my imagination”
What is a woman to a man,
And an androgynous genius to
The industry, or anyone at all
If all are foes ans frauds
I woke up with one hand tucked behind my back
The end of the energy keeping me between three things:
But nobody quite understands
That these demons are chasing me saying
“You deserved those hands in your face”
The scratches on Kayla's back should have had me but
So I'm guessing the white women I love beyond words and bounds are—
In charge of whatever happens
I want to see someone suffer for all that I've done;
No, that's dark, and karmic, you know—
The confusions and refusal to accept that
The album is called ChaosMagick,
A prose or a pawn of protection
And the reckless mismanagement
When you're flying a kite with your heart,
What happens to the kite ,
When you fly it with your heart
And your art up in bundles—
So what come of Miss May,
what comes of the words I was saying
But still stocked up on all that I've wanted
But got no undercovers to acknowledge no more
What come of Miss June, when Miss January comes around?
what come now, around August,
When March is long forgotten?
Of the come ups, and come downs
What comes of the process
And I just can't love enough
I want to sit at the top of the rock
Writing songs, and sipping mock cocktails
I just want to get back to
I'm so out of money and love
(Sometimes it's just the impulse that says
Then the train starts to slow
And my pain bubbles up into a numb,
Dumb, crumbling cluster of poetry
Cause you're all just on your phones
Some black man stands over me,
Reminding me of why I never trust the ones
I just can't write with your arms around my neck like this
Your heart around my arms like this
I had other verses but forgot them
They took away my movies for the curses
I've got parts for all of them now,
But come from the catacombs,
Turns out, I love all of them—
Turns out, I've got all of them
I taught them all to be someone
Becoming of acknowledgement
Juan, in subcultures, but
Watch the ones who drop the consanant;
They're always so troublesome,
Social Studies and some theatrics,
I could have a body worthy
Would I be a writer then?
If you were pretty, ever at all— would you have written this?!
If I were pretty at all would there be reason to be this
Some of those old New York hallways
Don't make that face at me
I only dropped my key once
—they're horrible, you know
The “brothers” know no love
They are destruction, speaking
Cold like the calling I've done in my corner office cold, like the jello mold forming a thought process
I might love it like a husband
We're re-evaluating your circumstances.
Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean.
What the fuck could that even account to.
Look, I'm gonna have to give this some serious considerations.
I'm up to my knees in investments!
What exactly do you need?
I told you not to write this.
You're a voice in my head;
No, I'm the hand in your mailbox.
What in the fuck do you believe in.
They said you were a genius;
I didn't expect you to be
—at the very least, lucid—
*squints* learn some new vocabulary, okay?
We're still in the process of voting.
We'd be crazy not to actually hire her.
Her accounts are all practically open;
Yeah, and when she kills herself, and there's no blood on our hands—
There's nothing that can be done about the amount of this stuff that's already printed!
My, what a beautiful happenstance
And awakened atop mattresses
Marked for my assassins hand—
What you lost was $50, a Hallmark Card, an Academy award, a long lost star's phone number,
Was the sound that you wondered
, then ran off into wonder.
How am I gonna make money
And become an award winning songwriter
And multidisciplinary artist,
Without all the funding it takes to get noviced
Without taking clothes off
My stomach was a rubber band
My stomach was a rubber band
I drowned in all the love; right then and there
The sound and laughter of children play
The basket case at Trader Joe's
It just doesn't pull my heartstrings any longer
That my son belongs without his mother
So I'd better have another
Don't do this, Timmy, you'll be sorry.
Come on! We're not even in that movie!
We are, though; it's still
Listen, you've got the right guy for this.
[hot cops flash dance number]
Fuck, well, that was all wrong.
God, this show gets good at 31,
So I guess I'll know how wrong the war was
Soon comes the next episode
That was our wedding album.
Scatterbrained, and pregnant—
There she was just putting all the things together
Trying not to do the wrong thing,
There she was at 21 just going off again
Back then could not imagine
Turns the watchers into artists
And clocks that turn the other hand away,
Each day you love Manhattan
This is just Season 1 of Mad Men
[she throws her hands above her head in surrender]
What's with those pants, then?
What assets?! You look tragic.
I'm going for ‘skeleton' to match all your wives and everybody else on the red carpet
Who said you get the red carpet?
The walk of stars were carved out in blocks of marble
Yaaaaaaayyy. You got the award!
And there's nothing on the teleprompter
[a man in the audience coughs]
[Sunni Blū immidiateky shoots the coughing man]
[multi-camera shots of celebrity audience reactions; laughing, clapping in hilarity as if someone hasn't just died]
I don't know why you're laughing.
[audience is insane, super fake as usual]
It should have been you, Taylor.
Anyway. I'd like to thank the academy…
[Audience is celebrities being celebrities]
And anyone else who wants to show up
[cheesy academy award music plays—Sunnï knocks over the mic, peaces out obnoxiously; the audience cheers wildly and the host returns to the stage.]
Wait, Bob Saget is dead right?
Shhhh, don't let them know I'm in here!
I'm being hunted by the ghost of Bob Saget.
You don't have to kidnap me, I'll happily go with you, sir.
[a bunch of hot male celebrities are in the van]
There's a Friday movie between 1 and 2
So I guess this is season 8.5
I guess this is season 8.5
What— is this strange music—
Come on, Jimmy, you're slipping
Kimmel, cause Fallon is dead or presumed missing
Probably a bounty on his head, Dog willing
The Festival Priojects Inclement Infinite
Is coming up next, on Legends
Nobody can know about this, okay?
Alright, Alec Baldwin is a little tied up, right now, but
No, That's—I got a show tonight
Oh, this pussy is finished!
Well, I just had you, didn't I?
“The mayor” is a secret underground rap star
So whats the sauce on this sandwich.
There's no sauce on that sandwhich.
WAKE UP, YOU'RE A ROCKSTAR.
[SUNNI BLŪ wakes up on the train.]
(Angrily, tossing newspaper)
Aww, thanks, I need that for my—
[s/he snatches back the paper].
Wait! I need that back—what day is it?
[drunkenly illegible gibberish turns into perfect Hebrew]
[s/he shoves the newspaper back into the hobo's lap]
Oh no, I thought I couldn't forget
GODDAMIT IT WAS SO CLEVER.
you know what rabbi joke! You were the one who gave it to me.
Ohh, Satan-Jesus. I like that one.
It was much better than that, it was—
I realize I just opened a
I had an Artemis in my pocket
Walked away from the cornermarker
And the cornerstone, for the sunset
I wonder if songs always come
If you could see what I see,
wtf did I just write this
And not realize I just wrote this
That shit happens to me all the time.
THE ANDRE3K CHARADES GAME is getting intense.
What in the FUCK is that.
I can't see really, I just dream
I'm not thinking, I'm dancing
This is what you asked for
Exactly what you asked for
I'm finally glad I have your eyes on
I can see you all on the horizon,
—I don't know where I'm from.
Listen, I'm gonna need you
It seems like these scenes are getting shorter.
I fuckin hate you. I hate you.
Seems like there's something more important I should be doing.
Are you sure this is the right place.
I swear to God, Google knows everything.
Google don't know shit about SHIT.
Beyoncé is relevant to everything.
I don't trust you, but I believe you.
I developed a new phobia.
I don't know, I can probably use it in a fight or something.
SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED.
I see you looking over my shoulder
I see the shadows, I try not to jump at em.
I spent six months in a coffin, you know
I spent my life a sarcophagus
Try not to mutter those haunts in a hospital
Try to recover from trauma
Uncovered post traumatics,
Anxiety attacks and a lot of those—
SONNY MOORE aka SKRILLEX appears.
Come on! What's his name!? What's his name?!
Are you serious? Another shapeshifter?
I guess welll just have to kill them all, then.
I wasn't faking my symptoms at all, actually.
My heart had dropped, and been pounding and fluttering insessantly—
It had been a hard week, but especially the last three days;
Everyone seemed to be wearing clothing with stars or bears on it,
I fucking hate champion sportswear.
But the palpitations were real as ever— and now—
On a Saturday night in the Jamaica, Queens medical center emergency room,
Only this time I knew exactly why.
‘Too Bizzare' by Skrillex begins to play, via Complications 003- The Trauma Method.
It was ironic, but still startling,
Started with some nostalgic traumas,
Every other time I saw an ER doctor
Fuck, I just realized I have to airdrop myself 880 times.
Did you say you were a doctor?
Listen, I'm gonna need you to backtrack to get to the bottom of this.
We caught you at 27 different angles doing this.
Ohh. Cerulean. My favorite.
I know everything about you.
What the fuck do you want from me.
Listen. I. Am not. A God,
Right. That's exactly what a God would say.
No they wouldn't! Because a God wouldn't say anything!
Might as well not think about it
Might as well just stay awake then
It don't matter to me, now
I go crazy just making arrangements,
If you like it, you should have it
But actually I'm in a wild panic
It might be a heart attack
It don't matter to me, I said
I don't mind, at all, now
It really don't matter to me
It really don't matter to anyone
Might as well not think about it
Might as well just stay awake then
Palpitations and precipitations at the pulpit
Preacher, please don't make me a culprit
Almost half of me is not mine!
I've been walking out, in straight lines
I been making most of my nights
I've been spending my time
Trying not to down in my mind
Where are the other nine?
DEADMAU5 (head and all) stands at a tall podium in the center of the room)
I'm not playing for deadmau5.
Congratulations—you're the next superstar DJ.
After a few moments of comic tension, the Deadmau5 head rolls back in through the exit which he has taken.
No matter what you do, you're a superstar DJ.
Die, you want to try, try
So then, I followed this long hallway under the stage deck.
Uhhuh, where'd the door lead?
I guess that's why it's called ‘music'—a musician without muses is just useless.
‘Well, whose next?' I wondered. All of my muses were not just so wonderful to me, but adored by many—and perhaps this is what allured me most—befuddled ans confounded me; once my mind was set on something, there was nothing else its eye could see—and for how long one God could only know, how deep the love would go and that the blood would run deep, and the scars to show for it, only upon my heart and never by soul—for a love was a love, and even once came and gone, to the end of my life I knew I would still ponder upon them, at one time or another, my muses—star studded lovers, rather than crossed, shiny and golden like all diamond and trophies so treasured and thought of as precious.
Another tongue in cheek thought, for the other that I was, and also was not, as summer drew onward as short as it would come and go—a reminder to leave the apartment more often, and to mind my manners, to find the upper echelon wherever it was and come quietly into its doors, to open my world and wordform of thought, into a place where my heart always was; then, and only then, would I be home. Amongst the men and women of the uppercut and classy, luxurious big fishing ponds and flocks of doves upon olive branches—the peaceful world long parted from where mine was, by only the fault of my own. What had been done just certainly was, and yet, what was to come was an open poem, not of mine, but Godform in thought.
‘I wonder what's at the top of Rockefeller Plaza.'
—perhaps, a gander at the bottom of an even larger entertainment complex.
Then, again, only God would know what was beyond all that I wanted; a job—and not just any job at all— the one that I had always wanted.
Suddenly the taste of a white confetti crème filled my mouth with a delicious remnince of what it might be like to taste a confectionary sugar again—but i couldn't imagine ever making it just on talent and charisma alone—no. Indeed, it seemed something had damaged my charm, and perhaps it was just the swarms and droves of phone controlled masses that saw me as nothing more than dust, I had started to surrender my desire to perform, and the quality of my music—along with my ability to make it, suffered with the awful thing that had been crowding my soul at all—whatever it was, evil and dark in nature, sure saw to it that it wanted to hurt me in all the ways that it could—and in all the ways it could not, I stayed away from most others, favoring my delusions of love.
‘Nobody seems to understand that the pain they cause will only harm themselves.', I thought
Younger souls, however, they were—and they would be kept in the pain that I was in one way or another until eventual death, far behind me on the infinite road to the source. Far enough behind, that it seeked to destroy my progress, and for all that it could, it also couldn't.
The infliction of pain would simply not act as a measure for control any longer.
Off into my own world, where I was at least free from the thoughts and judgement of others.
She's the most beautiful girl,
And I'm the most beautiful boy;
So naturally, we belong together, don't we?
Picket fences and a family
TV dreams and exquisite pretty people
Burning candles, fire flames and
Guest characters and cameos,
Repeat offenders, multiple appearances
Suddenly, really, it's another need
Butterflies and new beginnings
Haven't bothered going on a walk
Put the gun up under my chin
Just cause I didn't blow up
I could stop for a moment
Wash my mind out with soap
Like I'm ten years younger, even
You can't even hide underwater
For the love of God, for the love of
For the love of Rockefeller Plaza
Another possible walk of stars
I'mma just keep preaching
(I'm blind to my own design, sometimes)
Close your eyes and say thrice, kids
I walk amongst the highest
Better just die and keep trying
I am the God of the eye, I am
(That's right, three times)
No black and white television,
In my dimension we pay attention to centrifugal,
The mission isn't in materialism,
If money the God, l of your eye,
Your money is nothin to us
Part of me never left Boston
Part of me never left homeless
You never heard this song
I'm an ugly kid, you don't notice me
Rooftop smells like soy sauce
Can we get back to this, please?
Damn. She really whooped her ass, though.
Janet, can I borrow you for a second?
[Whoopi Goldberg appears in the doorway, gesturing “c'mon”]
I got convictions on my lips,
The worst of all was, it really did seem like they were racists—
Not just racists— the most deadly kind of racists.
You really want it this way, don't you?
If there's a mile in here, I swear to god..
You remember these guys, right?
GOOD CANNABIS, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA
Alright, we might have fucked up.
Look, I don't care what color it is; I want that book in my library.
I did not, all i said was
It was more the *swoon* that did it.
Fuck, I lost deadmau5 again
He's still there! He's right there, you see him?
No! This isn't deadmau5. We want deadmau5. bring him BACK.
Man, God never puts my dishes back in the right place, like ever.
I told you, I don't live here, I'm just…
Where the fuck have you been?
You don't know—you smell funny.
“Funny” is that what that smell is?
—did you go to a party without me?
You. Old. One here and die, you know, l.
It's cattle call for curtain calls guy
This is the Tower of Babel
—it's not as fast, when it's not going all the way up
Are you sure this is where it was or—?
—I'm still in your stirrups
I'm lost in New York, then
Adele remix is on [have a seat]
I still need a hat, a half dollar
You could win an award for this;
Nope, that's just the office,
I'm still homeless, unless I
They got cabanas on top of offices!
(The rich and the famous)
_this looks fun, doesn't it?
I altered the course of history
Various social atrocities
This is hypocrisy! lol rly
Hyper awareness and, psychic inclinations…
You realize the more low quality people you let in
The more low quality this country becomes, don't you?
I put a roll in the back of the chosen ones.
Now something seldom ever happens
I know enough about the girl next door to know
My undeservedness of such,
(I'm standing on top of you)
Put somebody worthy on the fourth floor
I know enough about the man upstairs to know
Why would you wait 30 years
Something is certainly off about her.
It was more probably something like
Stop breeding these things,
—they don't make love either
Well, look where your lust took you!
Look where your love took you:
My arms are too short to jump the turnstyle,
My ex husband left permanent scars on
Of course I bit him, he was strangling me.
You definitely won this fight.
Look, if I don't call for security,
This bitch is gonna make me kill her.
Look, I gotta get ahead in this.
They got like….white slaves now.
This is what the white supremacy just did to everyone else:
[world in crisis except for for people who look like Kayla Lauren, to whom EVERYTHING is a fucking crisis, that isn't]
BECKY/KAREN/WICKED WITCH OF WHITE AMERICA
I'm offended that you signed your like 12 year old daughter up to pose nearly nude, but—
Hey look, it's us now; is this freedom?!
Why are all the female models like 12 and all the male models are fully grown men—
Wait. Something tells me all the pedophiles and all the white supremacists are in the same group…
I'll kill you and take the whole world with me.
Thing is, I'm actually making it.
Ok. Wait 30 years though so you look and sound REALLY fucking stupid.
What's the statute of limitations for—
NOBODY YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT.
This is Texas being petty.
I'm serious, wtf is wrong with you.
Yep, it's definitely some kind of
Hunts Point Food Distribution Center
Lmfao I need this word hold on
“eliminating redundancies, setting strict timelines, and allowing cases to proceed contemporaneously”
[ Finally, recognizing the danger that social media poses to young people and mental health, New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene Commissioner Dr. Ashwin Vasan today issued a Health Commissioner's Advisory identifying unfettered access to and use of social media as a public health hazard, just as past U.S. surgeons general have done with tobacco and firearms.]
I still don't understand how this—
Tryna fuck with my mind with
I ain't got time for that
Oh, so he put a curse on sunni blu, too?
When all my aliases come up
This dumb motherfucking drunk
In the words that he left
In the words that he left
I'll unwrap flags on your
Put a curse on my alter ego
You're at home with the young apostle
He never even liked his father
So turned him to a mother,
Told his mother to ‘run far,
In light skinned clothing
You don't know to explode
Find something to pass the time,
Fuck a pedophile wifebeater
Bury him in the woods with his fury
I'm coming up with reverse curses
I'll bury you in the woods,
I get what I want when I want it
I buy everything I used to steal
These tears in my heart say I'm healing
What's the difference, anyway?
I've never been fit for your interests, or industry
Add everything to my Amazon cart, then
Nothing is greater in heaven
As it is in hell, for this industry
Check your messages, then
Shut up kid, this doesn't involve you
You're not included in the package
Michael c hall and John c Riley reprise Mr. Cellophane in the style of DEXTER MORGAN.
I met her at The Jumping Point
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