Make a mockery of myself;

wear smock to work

I don't talk too much no more

I just gossip somedays,

Dark on mondays;

The forgotten apostle

With just enough rope

To jump off and hope

It all stops, soon

The motocross and the terror stalkers

Just across from the starbucks at the Rock

–it got awkward

But God Loves me

Might start a talk show

Some chef, with a pop tart

A pop up club, a long night

Some broke shards of glass,

the yards of all the scars on stars and stripe

Feels like a long night–

Got coffee and tacos

A long talk with your blonde wife

To bypass the psycos

Right, though?

Bro, it's so over;

I won a whole asshole and a four leaf clover

In a game of poker

Now, brush your shoulders off

Brush your hair,

Pet the dog,

And kick the cat over and over

Till he turns back to a robot

“You're so gross.”

–don't i know it.

The whole world is over

–you jump first,

I'll follow

Lets keep talking

About the letters I penned

To the false Gods,

Painted them scarlett, of course

Scattered em from here

to Scarboro Fair,
I was right there,

then out of nowhere

a new nightmare

with nice hair

Here we go again

Lines out the door;

We got lines out the door

Out of Order

The world is at war

The whole world has run

Out of water

The four is the for

Theres no five

But the V for vendetta

Theres lines out the door

The whole world

Is a mom

And a daughter

My jokes get better,

The buildings look bigger

I pretend this seltzer is alcohol

Cause i want it

To make me forget

I've got all my–

Huh

There's a line out the door.

What if–

Me,

And all of your friends

And all of my

Wait, I don't have any friends

I'm getting a cat.

I was just thinking about Mila Kunis.

Oh yes, why's that?

SETH MCFARLENE

YEEEEE. YEEEEEEE. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

WHAT, GODDAMMIT

GIGGITY!

OKAY, ASSHOLE

Eyes on eyes,

and tears on tears

All the years ive cried

On ears on ears

Why am I even here?

It's been too long, since i've been touched

I don't love love

but i dislike lust

I don't trust anyone

I don't have a number

I crawled up my arm,

Danced with the blood drawn

BLŪ wakes up famous.

[The world swirls into a plume of dark blue sky; BLŪ awakens suddenly from the blackness of a deep sleep in the middle of a road, a group of people, friends, swirling around her.]

YO.

What?

BLŪ.

What's up.

PARTY FOUL, BROH.

…

Billie Ellish?

Billie Pirate Ellish.

Uh.

That's why the rum–

Is gone.

What.

Guess i'm Jack Sparrow, now.

Hey wait–are you even legal?

Uh. I'm a mad fucking genius; are you legal?

I don't know.

Besides, this was your idea.

What–what?

Exactly. Get up.

Wtf is going on in this scene.

Idk i might a have to play the song again

Fuck that. I'm about to slit myfucking wrists.

HAVOC.

Where are we going?

You still got that NDA in your wallet?

I–yeah.

Then we're gucci.

“Waking up Famous”

I don't know exactly what happened.

[Looking in the mirror, confused.]

This is a nice leather jacket.

I wonder if i'm still Vegan.

Damn. I look mad rich.

BLŪ hurry UP!

[toilet flushes with foot]

Alright, I'm coming.

[Blu checks her pockets to find a wallet, the contents including numerous cards–metal ones, with copious amounts of cash, and pre-filled NDAs which have been folder neatly and stuffed into the corner pocket of the trifold wallet]

Billabong. Classy.

I'm never gonna finish that other project, am I?

Whatever.

Leave Fallon alone.

I did.

–it came back.

Cut lil blonde

Hot as Finneas O' Connell

Possible homosexual, but god love him

Cause I'm hungry

Lookin for lunch

Somebody as scrunches

Pull up and crunches

Cause my monster is

Lookin to

Humpty Dumpty

Fuck, I forgot Rosie O'Donnal!

I cant get no Satisfaction— The Rolling Stones

What's wrong, Saint Jimmy?

Lucius?

What is it.

Percius would like to see you.

Oh.

The Prince Lucius hasn't left his chamber in days—however, as his brother Percius has just returned from war, he quickly emerges from his resting place, an alter of sorts.

Damn, I'm getting a headache.

I almost never have headaches.

It was true, and of course, as I started to write about this prince and his so said brother, Lucius and Perseus, I was reminded once more of Athens, where I had just been however briefly, in a short astral trip of sorts, wandering about in the dreamworld, looking for something or someone in place of my pillow to hold.

Did you want to walk to Trader Joe's?

I mean, kind of, but no.

My muscles were sore and I had just spent some two hours in the gym, not on purpose but quite by accident, though only having run just under two miles, though at least uphill, and spending the rest of the time lifting—I had been bound to mostly beans and rice, and so however was bloated and gassy, quite slow and not as strong, my regular protein just out of reach…

Dang. I have so much to fucking do today.

I hadn't realized that somehow it was Saturday, although just a couple days before had been a Wednesday that felt like Sunday, and now again time was all out of sorts; it was a “holiday” weekend, and I was without a doubt, drowning in my own having-to-do's, and as such, weekends and days off were entirely not a thing, besides in ways that those bustled around me—and I was sure that some days had been lost, as I was planning to visit the food bank on Friday, but had somehow skipped over the end of the week entirely—somehow, that is, and I was sure sometimes that in skipping days, meditating and fasting about, however intermittently, that time itself shuffled in all the ways I had, between cross dimensions and parallels such as I—I had been hovering somewhere between the 6th and. 10th dimensions, for the most part, and none with having to understand the undoubted shifts in my own perception of time that were bound to happen, as I sprawled across the astral plains looking and searching for a sign that the tragic poverty, restlessness, and lack of peace wound end.

Bound to your alter, my dear brother?

Aye.

So perhaps here there was another unfounded Kingdom within the realm of Ascencia—Lucius, a prince, and Percius—seemingly slated the King, and yet I had unreached such a conclusion as to assimilate an entirely factioned world, as of yet.

What did you write last night?

Uh…I don't know.

Well, let's see

Something had shaken me from my almost-sleep, laying sprawled across my bed, in the middle of the mattress, rather than to either side, which was rare; I typically preferred the left side of the mattress, anyway, but as I waited to launder my bedding, after a sweaty and sweltering almost summer day of lounging, smothered in shea butter and lackadaisically scrawling about what recordings had been buried in my phone, between the collection of books I had practically all found in the streets of New York and the rising temperatures of the tepid summer weather, my room was starting to smell funny—and without being able to burn sage anymore, for fear of being thrown back into the streets like a dog, I with every hope in the world figured that washing my thick bedding, comforter included, would restore the crisp and rigid, almost factory clean that I found satisfactory.

Songs buzzed in and out of my head as if I hadn't enough already much to do—and still, I added into my growing pile of notes and mounds of work, even more songs—this time, The Rolling Stones.

I can't get no

Satisfaction…

…but I try—

—and I try—

—and I try—

And I try!

I can't—get no—!

God, I wish I could write something like that.

The rock Gods had at the very least been accompanying me, and in a certain sense, so had the Gods of The Rock;

I had been forced up out of my dormant state by a voice which urged me away from my near sleep—I had been up since six AM and it was something past midnight, and still the voice said—

“Get up and write!”

And though I had words tinkering around in my head like little coins in some sort of metal box, none of them quite made so much sense that I had to get up and write—however, still the voice, though not angry, but firm, insisted.

The voice, for once, sounded female— a welcome change, and though I had become quite fond of males in general, in the solemnly celibate sense, it was a difference and yet none at all— a voice of wisdom had projected itself at me, and as I dragged myself about, reaching for a notebook and flipping through the pages, finding that the notebook was practically full…

‘great, more shit to do'

I held the words that had tinkered around in my mind like little whispers until I found a page to make them full formed, and the words which fell into my hand as scriptured by the pen—my favorite writing utensil, nearly out of its cherishable gel ink, danced upon the page nearly on its own, channeling the words written as such:

Once prosperous to throw

The stone asunder

Glisten whispers of water

Tears of al tears |ter|

Of the altar,

For follow for fello,

A felon of Antigone

Grace, with shield

A tattered tail,

So flew with feathered Phoenix

? Feared,

Foreshadowed not,

Agreed upon however,

Was the velvet woven path of us,

So honored in her fortress .

Yeah, something about Rockefeller Plaza.

Well there were all these hooded figures in like weird, brown velvet robes—

That's true, I saw that.

Yeah, I was there,

You WHAT?

Look what I got.

Fuck me, man.

You know, there's a lot more to this story.

I was hoping so, but however also, hoping not.

Man, Jimmy Fallon's wife is super hot.

Gee!

Yeah man, she's so cute.

W0W.

I like her,

They're Gods.

I think they're Gods.

yuh.

What else did I write?

There was something else?

What the fuck is wrong with that guy?

Somethin.

Yeah.

The pages of the notebook were all full, something of a book of shadows and protection spells I had used in an attempt to ward off my ex husband—how of course, that they were done with, I should very well have been jotting them into with all the notes, into the documents—later to burn them, unable to afford the parchment book I wanted.

For what a withered way would call an honor for fortunes duty,

Glorified wherein in as shadows,

Cast upon reflections in redacted incantations and enchantments, foreword come, theone who waits

Believing darkness be his fate

Whatever, man.

Fuck Jimmy Fallon.

If you really feel that way!

I feel a lot of ways.

Well, don't.

I'm so, so hungry…

So, so lonely…

So, so fuckin broke.

Man—I learned all this dumb ass magic just to protect myself from this guy, and all this still happens!

I think it's just Satan.

[Satan Appears]

Man— she is JACKED.

Try this one.

Follow me, boy!

Uh— okay.

I'm staying single forever.

Don't look at me.

That's my girl.

Don't look at me.

What the fuck. Stop looking at her:

Don't look at me!

Men are hopeless.

Fuck dude, like, the worst thing imaginable is that this Jimmy Fallon dude actually hates me so much for this—

What? Uh oh.

And is so fucking powerful.

He is. A very, very powerful—

Well, what is it!?

We don't— know.

*gasps*

He's a—

SHHHHHH.

[Redacted]

Well, that's not doing much, is it?

Seriously, just kill yourself again.

Might have to!

Fuck, why do all these robot demons SMELL like him?

Satan?

Yep.

Satan

?!

I'm—

Seriously, save him.

Seriously, God really loves Jimmy Fallon—

(He's one of my favorites.)

Favorite what's?!

Just—favorites.

Damn. This is getting to be like Greek Theatre.

Great. Now everybody's gonna fucking die.

It could be a comedy.

Holy shit, yeah—

This has mad good production value.

I love it!

Strange shit

I just did give my OWSLA tat a kiss

Smile for the camera,

Pageantry of mattresses,

A master of the MagicIan's chance at

Chancellors dance,

Look at Harrison trance

Can I run a mile for President?

A toy chest,

A boy, just Obama

I'm so much older

Been through such trauma

What the Willy wonka

I should apply for Harvard

New York over Boston

So Columbia or Juliard

I wish

Son of a bitch, this is tragic

I'm too old for scholarship

Diploma's in another name

I just got protective orders on

I should start over

But the world war is another

Trump drama

My Amazon cart is full of karma

What you want from God?

A trophy husband,

Let's call him

Oscar

-undefeated.

All this is weird

I think imm married to the music

Think of growing a beard

Opening a beer

And getting out of here

All of my fears is

Mommy dearest mommy dearest

All of my hell is

A body

Imm a seed in a forest

Been buried

Bipolar,

Supposedly,

So tell me,

Faery;

How could I love you

The way I I do

If my mood

Were restablized

My blu life

Gave me blue eyes

Clean tub of water

I don't belong here

It's too late for me too

Swapping Vogue for the People

My people who hate me

But I been so played,

The hatred betrays me

I walk both ways

Down a one way street

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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-Ū.