The Secret Life Of Sunnï Blū

XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix)

[Bootleg] Uptown A

The Complex Collective

Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017)

“The Rescue”

This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks.

This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it.

You will need:

½ medium size had of cauliflower

½ medium to large yellow onion

½ red onion of the same size

½ white onion, per reference

1 whole celery heart

One fresh turmeric root

1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later

1 stalk baby boo choy

3-4 medium sized carrots

¼ green bell pepper

⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley)

⅓ red bell pepper

⅓ yellow bell pepper

⅓ orange bell pepper

½ can stewed tomatoes with onion

½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic

(This is for broth flavor)

One whole vine ripened tomato

5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference)

About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth)

3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight

½ cup finely chopped fresh dill

½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro

¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano

½ lime

½ lemon

Crushed red pepper

Sea salt

Thyme

Black pepper

Part II

Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art

and…

Something tells me

Something's not all the way right with my head

I'm

Lost in my mind,

I'm

All the way here,

But I'm still

Somewhere off a bit

Velvet, the skin,

I'm just as sick in my head as I ever,

Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition

—this handsome nigga smells like red licorice.

(It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.)

Zeroing in and away, heroing hard

For your heroine,

Heroin veins,

Pigs on the wing,

Singing your song

Hearing your cry out

Fly out my miles, my son

Come into my arms, mine oath

The love, some trouble

Heavy was her heart,

Lied to cover

Still shattered,

Ravine ions, cosmos farm

And Wanda's black eye

Timmy's wishes and

SpongeBob's shallow grave,

Oh, how high I got

That Arnold's lost love

Was actually

Strangely enough

Also his narcissist,

Probably also practicing witchcraft

And exorcisms of him.

Scissorman, Scissorman—

Get a load of this one;

Frog and toad, a couple laughs

Behind the masks,

For this world.

Would you honor?

Give your blessing, butter

Different wages paying,

Listen, shallow author:

You would write but then not follow up

About the actors?

The actors!

The actors have had it.

I'm

Just

As

Badly

Damaged

As

I ever was

And listen, Awesome told me

Your story

I chuckled

All the way

Up until

The literal punchline

Now,

Go home;

Go hike Runyon.

For a few hours, we can pretend.

That old haunts

Don't boil up

They always have, of course

But you know

Nothing quite as pungent as

What's become of yours

[I love my son.]

There it is again,

As if something had called her,

There, more words

But less of them than the tongue could offer

Swear you, listener,

Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness,

and weary travelers,

Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances

For pleasantries

And of course,

Dessert trays.

Cause I wear—

—We all know.

If anything happens these days,

It's because I'm a comic.

(At some point)

Sunglasses before the sun's up;

Eat candies before it all melts

Warm something as download comes

To fight or fold,

To win or die

To live or lose

Whatever then

First time flying

And I've got

My mind blinding me out

Deciding for once

That I'm not the whole world

Just to have the experience

If being surrounded by others

In some way.

The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you.

The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already.

I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think.

I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things—

But I'm thinking of ending things.

How selfish of me.

First time flying

Sunglasses before the sun comes up

Halls on my tongue

And vitamins in my pocket,

I shuffle over and over in my mind,

The millions of dollars

And all that I go through

Just to skip post,

And go home to no one.

But—hello there

No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as

This poster is,

So aware of what's there, and near you

You've begun to fear it

Well, then,

Hands in my pocket and down

Dawn to dusk,

Shaking my head,

Drunkenly, but stone sober

Really no one told me about the poetry,

But a whole world opened,

Inside of your notebook—

Which I stand holding.

Pleasentries, sick dissent,

Indecent exposure.

And body odor this early in the morning;

Gotta love country folk

Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older,

The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye—

Here's to hopes

The Hellicopter is all I know

From here to Hell and back

Westward bound,

The Sun rise behind us

Sunglasses and no sun yet

My eyes reminders of times

I remember

Sure you did, sir

I been there

Suffered the whole coast

And I'm still not sure

You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now.

They say this airport is known for its art installations.

You don't say.

Grandiose to escape the algorithm,

Tapped in with the captains hats

Fit six of my guieapigs in the business

1 transsexual,

And 6 women

3 biracial non-bianaries

Some accused extra terrestrials

You left me home, but —

Nobody washes the whites without me.

It's OWSLA again.

[The Festival Project ™]

It's mid week in midtown

I fell asleep at a business meeting,

Thinking in sequences,

Drinking in increments,

Sweet, sweet music,

Death and television

Television

Celebritism, star power

And no wonder

Early October vacations

From power fortunes tied to us

We want Redbones,

Resonated chambers,

Thankless sacraments of disaster

Are you archived?

Damaged and the flatline

Comes at such a heavy decibel

Your arms grow numb and

Start to stiffen;

No wonder you're not paranoid

Inside of our religion

The Eye

See i,

Excuse me miss—

Did I miss it ?

Plea, I

Give thanks,

Again for

—this is our tradition

Me, I,

Seek I

—-meaning to make sense of it but,

The might,

She died, I guess

The center of my kitchen

Distressed from attention deficit disorder

Sure, Marsh

—Whatever doctor .

He was just the type I like

Milky silky white

Sunglasses

Slicked back hair

Thick round thighs

High fashion—( l)

Sun baked

Pose to take a selfie, right?

Just the type I like;

Milky silky white

There's the girl that'll do anything for ya

But she's no body

With nobody

No good, I

In fact

So ugly l you could choke on just the thought of her

Even with beer goggles on

But she'll do anything you want

And like it—and it doesn't cost

She'll fall in love with you

(For not even a single dollar.)

[The Festival Project ™]

Now that we —

{Enter The Multiverse}

Ahem.

Part III

Day trip

Take a nap

Change the map.

Pet the cat

Let the dog out

Run a lap

Pitty Pat

Pitty Pat

Pitty Pat

Pitty Pat

I Pitty Pat

I Pitty Pat

Broh what up with these Dillon Francis clones tho.

How do you know they're clones?

They can't all be multi dimentionals.

They could!

You never know; they really could.

I run these robots

Into dark corners

Just to honor me

They come scurrying and ugly to annoy and ponder upon me, all the while praying l, my mind on

Don't mind those, they're broke bots

I haven't l l stopped my work to finish

Work on

[The Festival Project ™]

I'm sure by now you've noticed

The only people in

Champion sportswear and

Jansport backpacks

Are ugly, slow,

And weak

L E G E N D S

(I have noticed.)

If attention deficit is forsure your destination

I'm you're designated courier, or carrier pigeon

This isn't ingidgenous reparations or explicit subliminal messages,

But if it is, this is suggestive your direction is correct and attentive

Listen to this shit:

Case dismissed;

Next time I'll fly direct

Hit my line if your eyes are dilated

I'm miles high,

So if it rejects,

Just leave a message

(Eject!)

All of a sudden,

I'm somewhere else

(With him)

He pulls on the rings

On the back of my

—what was I wearing again?

I should have stayed home in the first place

(You don't listen)

I should have stayed home in the first place

(You don't—)

I should have stayed home for awhile

Cause before hand, and I'm wild

Random foreplay,

Orgasm,

Desire you,

You're right, I don't listen.

All of a sudden, I'm gone with you.

Those women in Santa Monica,

All perfect and in hoards and by the handfuls

The type celebrities get

Celebrities need,

Celebrities want—

A shrill reminder

Or what I am,

And can often lose focus,

Drawing back on icons,

Sifting through the skin I feel,

Entrapped by circumstance

And perhaps, even

Some terrible curse, or

A shield of protection.

—the deathly hollows.

It almost felt as if I'd never write again, but here I was

Nearer somehow to a strange fame,

The end of famine

And feast of none—

Doubling back upon

Something I had recorded

In this experience,

Alone and awakened,

Moving in automatic,

Chaos and charismatic,

felt, but never intertwined

In the awesome circumstance

Of wanting, no—

Needing to be loved,

And never having been;

Needing to be touched, and never having felt

The grip of sorts,

The higher bar taste of something I had become famished,

The sense of a calling so sacred,

It beconed to my sea,

The only one,

A diamond in starry skies

A night of dawn,

But dark, the thought

The ever present one,

Never loved,

And shallow kind

Shallow breath,

And putrid thoughts,

Reckoning the wilted flower,

The springing seed,

The calling of another and yet,

Here I was,

Tolerance,

At her mercy—

Fearing none but knowing,

By the handfuls they come,

And drawn like magnets

Into my being,

A focus,

Nonesuch art none otherwise known as

My hell

The bodies of women

Perfect and priveleged,

Sunbathed and worthy

Of everything I wanted and needed

Without working at all.

I wondered harder, fasting.

Soft lips upon his Adam's Apple,

I drift away in his chest,

Dreft, the smell of michielf managed,

Then, the music of songs loved

And garnished with sprouts of June

In the coming of spring,

Does form another,

Again, my love

I call for mercy

The pain of yours needing born

And my heart estranged

Mercy

Her eyes were darkened circles

And body brittle;

As I admired her courtesy, charm

And delicate stature,

Arose to connect this,

A tune—

So sung to tell a story

Of Rocky Racoon

Irish spring to lather his back,

In bar form;

His burgundy Mercedes Benz has had parked in my garage,

And I, not able to trust his drunken judgements,

Captured his keys, as my mother and I

Had worried for him,

Dissappeared again into the night, and yet—

At least the keys and the car

Were safe with me, at home

As was his,

Whenever he wished to return

My strange and far love

Nearly since almost nothing

Screen doors and Fischer Price

Office calls and casting agents,

Honey bees and biopics

Telephoto lenses and

Semi autobiographical pornography

Marriages and suits to match

A name for Vegas wedded lie,

A love bloomed from birth,

Cherished insights in the water

Reservations and yamakas,

Simple and sacred,

The undone village,

The thought of nothing but one

Until another does pull the string

To which I had once known as harness,

But had since cut,

Only watching to strive,

Seeing the dance one makes for one to distance,

But only dangling, seeing not that I

Had come free and was wary of

All love, by now.

All men, indeed.

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

For the second time in recent happenings, the scar on the inside of my bottom lip began to swell and heat up strangely, as if it were activating in some sort of way or still healing—the scar itself was almost 8 years old, and in fact— would be 8 years old with the coming of springtime. It was a strange sensation, though not entirely traumatic— and while also fighting off some sort of infection, my body in entirety wasn't altogether well, but the mark to me stood out anyhow, as just the other day after leaving the craft store, the scar had lifted bizarrely, swelling as if some sort of creature under the surface of the skin had been moving around just enough as a reminder that it was there at all—now, something like a week later, it began to tingle and heat as if it were in the process of mending itself, and though when it had been healing, bits of skin and pieces of my bottom lip which had come loose after my bottom row of teeth had gone through nearly to the other side— not quite puncturing all the way through, but enough to indent the outside of my mouth with some bruising and swelling reminiscent to that of having once pierced my lip; in fact— the damage was so apparent that it had created a swollen enough tunnel on my upper lip, where my canines had created marks to make make it easy enough to re-insert new jewelry into the old piercing which had closed over time, and now had been halfway reopened by the blunt force of my teeth connecting with my ex's fist. In fact, I took it well enough that re-piercing the old upper lip didn't hurt at all, and almost made it seem meant to be. Then, in my mind—I was still fragile. Six or so week postpartum and still heavily lactating, with severe depression after having learned of the infidelities committed throughout the entire duration of the relationship had left me in a frenzied state— I worked almost around the clock after being hired at the local veterinary clinic, the doctor of which I had known since I was seven years old, and who had been happy to hire me, and after having already lost something like a hundred pounds, I took to the job considerably well, completing my daily tasks to focus my energy and the duration of my shifts to running the boarding dogs, often saving the larger breeds for last—the greyhounds and labs, the retrievers— so that I could run as fast and as hard with them as I could, and with each dog, a set of squats, windmills, and burpees and jumping jacks before running each pup through the obstacle coarse in the yard, never eating on my lunch breaks really, but only ever stopping to pump milk— so that especially when running, I wouldn't create a mess. I had always over-lactated, even for a short time supplying milk for other children, and in particular—my very best friend, whose choice to quickly resume drinking after her son's birth dissallowed her to continue breastfeeding, and either way, I had more than I needed, besides the occasional lot added as coffee creamer by one such who had discovered the magical and medicinal property of fresh breastmilk.

I was, of course, considerably smaller than I had ever been, probably since the fourth grade when procuring such a scar— and it only seemed at least somewhat believable and fitting that, when asked about the heavy swelling and bruising on my face and lips, that I had been hurt so tragically working out on the pavement— having falling doing pushups, or burpees, or something—to which no one seemed to have reason to believe otherwise; I had, after all, taken my level of fitness to new heights, and, after having lived so much of my adult and adolescent life anywhere between 250-350 lbs, once peaking at something like 380 or even more without the actual knowledge of such (always being asked politely if I wanted to know during doctor's visits, and of course, declining) my chaotic and frenzied state after the realization that the entire fabric of my relationship had been a complete lie, made sense to the outside world—and though without the bravery to actually admit to what had happened, the Doctor, after scolding me for not completing my daily tasks, just the day after this scar had been created, seemed to have let me go, not because of the actual incompletion of my duties, but as a harsh reckoning with knowing that I had lied directly to her face about what exactly had happened to mine.

The years homelessness that followed was due to the eviction received after having lost this job, and though with steady and careful recovery I was able to break free from my abuser, the lack of family support and financial stability combined with this legal eviction on record would see my struggle as a survivor of the physical and psychological violence which occurred over this, nearly a decade's time, seen by the outside world as an antagonist— a sick person, a derilict, a disgrace. It would take years for the truth to surface and as it had, the strangeness of things began to occur as not things in my mind, but things in the world, which were very real—and though while still in harsh denial of any such things besides other, ever having happened, it was this that remained, this scar—now strangely heated and almost swollen as if again I should be reminded that this scar did indeed mark a death of sorts, the life after which had all been some sort of strange dream; a walk through the afterlife, sometimes carried on the wings of angels or even driven by chariot of The Gods.

— Death of a Superstar DJ.

Lights fade,

Fade to black;

Sacred stones and crystals cross eyed,

Just across I,

Desire my mark;

The finish and the start line are one in the same

So as soon as I finish,

I start.

Part I

Do not disclose your location.

No address, I guess.

Stressed and headed for some sort of war zone

I'm sure,

No entitlements and I pushback,

Push to start

—I swear if you keep scrolling,

I'll take your eyes out.

I been yellow taxi'd

Two four door Ford explorers,

Nevermind the o'luck eye,

Cause I am all for it.

Party to the people!

I need water,

I mean, power.

You wanted the Stand Up Special.

I wanted nothing of the sort.

You could be funny.

Suddenly I'm sitting in the middle seat,

My eye on -

Seriously, I might not ever come out in public again

Again

Again

Again.

What are you channeling?

Apparently,

Jimmy Falllon and Natalie.

What in the fuck are you wearing!?

(A blazer and a fish scale.)

What in the fuck are you trying to say?

I'm trying to—

Thank you

I fainted and woke up in LA .

Dang.

If you're going to cry,

You might as well do it at 10,000 feet in the air—

—she's tied to her phone, the ensemble has gone.

Nobody wants her around anymore,

Nobody wants a new phone, not really.

Nobody needs a new friend, not Fallon.

I picked up the one thing I liked

In the whole place

And your name was on it.

Is this fame, or magic!?

Is this God, or a bludgeoning?

I forgot where my heart went,

Steered toward the fountain, naturally

So the water would calm me.

If this obviously-from-denver

New balance wearing motherfucker doesn't get

His long ass leg from within inches of mine,

I swear all the way to God

And all the way to—

Where is this?

—wherever.

I'm gonna reach behind me,

And kill him.

You know you've been in New York too long

When you don't have not a lick of patience

Or time for anyone's bullshit.

you:

Shut it down.

Shut it down!

A slap across the face is just as well—

—Is just as well.

And a swift kick in the ass is

We're back to the Irish,

The turn of the times,

And his eyes are mine again.

FUCK THIS,.

Just listen to me, for once.

I listen to you a lot, voice in my head disguised as

Who is this

The devil. I guess.

Great. So were the devil.

Could be.

Listen to your gut.

Not the greatest idea! I'm hungry.

Look, don't you touch me with those greasy little—

#spirit fingers.

LINCHTIME

*LYNCHTIME.

Goddamn. That misspelling took a TURN.

Let's just—

ITS JANE LYNCH TIME!

That's—yeah.

Listen, I have something to tell you.

Does it have anything to do with—

Get in the box.

Why, what's in the box

Damn. I don't have a lick of deadmau5 with me.

And why is that.

I was [redacted] I don't know..

You — might be the devil.

If— maybe.

In my eyes

(In my eyes)

I swear all the way to fucking GOD

This long ass nigga

With his dirty ass new balance shoes

All the way in my peripheral vision

Is about to be a whole

No leg havin ass nigga

Like that nigga I saw on the train the other day

I thought about your story Ark/Arc

All the stories I didn't want, like Noah's

Throw stones from glass houses.

Gas prices go up;

Every time I see some shit

I wanna throw up

Stomach in knots lately,

Been three years since I seen my own blood

No knots berry farm

I roam the streets very armed

I got scary arms,

Call em Michelle Obama;

Am I wrong or am I wrong;

I love the fuck out to New York,

but I don't belong here,

I just came to write a song here

Got stuck here

It's been two years since I had a

Man, or a beer

I'm black and I'm Queer,

Screamed “fuck Fallon”,

Then he just— showed up here.

Center stage

Now I entered a new dawn,

Turn the suffering on a bit

And turn the fucking lights off

I'm high as a kite,

A bird and a plane

In plain language,

I'm a mega famous alien

Okay then

Sure Sim, it is simple

A wrinkle in time,

Your first wrinkle

I popped pimples,

I'm still sure my high chair

Is right there

I got one foot in the grave,

I'm inside Bearr

I died there

Serious

Take the camera and check the images

Remember this!

I said sit your bitch ass down

Before you get slapped by

The secret president

As a death wish

For fuckin real

Everybody on the godddamn plane

Is about to get bitch

Slapped.

BITCH

SLAPPED.

What the fuck is wrong with people.

I swear all the way to God these toddler brain motherfuckers

Is driving me crazy.

I'd rather hang out

With actual CHILDREN.

At least it makes sense for them to be retarded.

Ya'll ain't got no business being this fuckin whacked.

Criminal mischief,

Interesting, isn't it?

Dismissive,

In fact, gone fishing.

Doors open, open

I'm on the road again, road again

Hands wrapped around my throat again

I'm sure to explode again

Who wrote this?

Take a ballpoint paper and pen to your notebooks,

And you're so shook, you bought

Two whole tickets to San Cristobal

In the same thought

I'm a good boss;

I'm a bad kid,

I'm a great guy

—with some bad habits

I'm a fat blonde

In a bad mood

And that's big facts

This dumb motherfucker behind me is about to get slapped—

SLAPPED.

I didn't mean to hit him that hard, broh

I didn't mean to really hit him at all though!

It's infinite, this bitch just gets under my skin

Like it's Siphilis, it's middles and pistols

Niggas and bitches

Nothing you would ever see

On regular television.

I took an elevator to heaven

I haven't been back since,

I don't remember at all what I left

Under or back there

In the black lands

It's bad earth.

Tomorrow, tomorrow

Today

Tomorrow, tomorrow.

59;/$ l

Tomorrow—

—tomorrow—

Today

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow

How much power can one man have

(Apparently a lot. )

What could this mean,

If nothing at all?

I just wanna get loaded

And run off and rave

I just want a family,

A horse,

And a grave marker

No, don't bury me

I just wanted a family.

I just want to write a good story,

Now I'm stuck in world history

All the well knowing

Now I know I gotta die

Before everyone I ever loved

Or even kinda sorta liked

— as a fan, you know?

“This man will destroy you.”

That is literally what the faraway shady ass voice said about Jimmy Fallon.

So whyz

why god.

Is this dude —

Not even all of a sudden

It's you.

It's you.

Like fucking everywhere.

It's YOU.

Gazuntite.

I move about silently,

Emergency calls only

Nobody needs to know me

Or where in the fuck I'm going

I'm showing you my dark sides

And none the wiser

The only Devil I got my eye on

Is a liar.

So what if God then?

It'll leave this case open

The gate opened up,

And I rolled in

Smoldering

Sometimes I forget I'm the whole world

Just long enough

To be annoyed

By everything in it

But especially myself, and increasingly

WHY THOUGH.

So suicidal,

I got blood in my eyes

Love in my mind,

I wish.

Cause with men

Love isn't blind

Rolling the size

And the eyes in the back of my head

I heard I'm a genius

I'm also retarded

Cause I still like penis

After all these dicks

The vision was just

Fallon in back of a Patty Wagon

How fitting,

Hands fisted and cuffed

In front, instead of the back of him

The Gillian in fact, was Saint Patrick

It's same difference

Insane niggas,

It's getting ignorant

And at this point

It's unicorns

Something going on,

Don't know what it is

Feels like something wrong

Bitch.

How the fuck you walk in a whole ass place.

I don't know.

The whole ass fucking place

Right, I don't know!

And the only thing you touch—

I—-

Has Jimmy Fallon's name on it.

I don't—

Scary huh,

Unfair really,

I'm scared, really so

Seriously don't look at me funny

If it gets weirder and deeper

When I never really asked for this

And I don't really know what happened

I think Fallon did it.

—but on what account?

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

They're gripping at straws to make me look and feel crazy which can only mean—

He's losing his power.

Hopefully he's expecting another baby.

Hopefully, for the ba's sake and its mother, it's not a little girl.

Even my big and strong boy might be irreversibly damaged at the hands of a psychotic narcissist with anger problems—and though surely he had tried to kill me any way he could, I had survived.

Now, the tables had indeed turned in my favor. With enough time, the truth would be revealed not only to those above, but to all who knew us; I hadn't lost my mind at all, only finally found a pair of eyes that could see the world around me that they did not like—and a pair of legs to run away from it.

The first time my ex husband actually hit me— he had snapped, and though there had been other counts of shoving,heavy handed close calls and other questionable events in the years leading up to this, it had never been what it turned out to be his fist actually connecting with my face— not just once, but several times over and over until something got in the way— even years later, I didn't know what, but maybe just that I had stopped moving, or struggling to get away.

“Play dead.”

Maybe he thought I was dead—or maybe I was. Everything since in the nearly eight years after seemed an inescapable and hellish nightmare—inescapable, that is, from him. Or, from “it.” The thing that had tried to kill me

That even after assuming an entirely new identity and seperate life, this dirty, lazy, disgusting and altogether unllpleasant energy seemed to follow me everywhere—and worse—this energy seemed to crawl into the other humans surrounding me, and like a parasite, never letting go.

I wanted to die as much as anything just to never be reminded of him again.

My thriving and success would make him look like a fool— more of one, anyhow, and either way— his jealousy of my life without him made it obvious how little and weak he actually was, though not on purpose, and, in some ways—many small ones, I had succeeded.

Suddenly, everything became battlegrounds—fighting for my life as if somehow I were still in my abusers presence and grips—the devil in him seeking me out in the world as if I had deserved it in the first place.

No one really deserves to die like that/-

Especially not in front of their children.

Now at least I knew he had no power alone, but that what one would The Devil itself often lived inside of the weak—weak in spirit, weak minded. Feeble and malleable, often fat and lazy people, it had become obvious— that people were the tools for this force to deplete the light and kindness, the good spirit and soul's purpose of others.

I had forgiven him, but something indeed had rotted away the core I thought once shared into a blackened depth if awful waste—the things about him belonging to a world I wished never to see or be part of. I had grown, and changed—and I was sure with time so had he; perhaps not, but I couldn't know and wouldn't want to, wishing only for the best for anyone's sake.

But this thing that seemed to follow me was a pitiful, screaming l and evil thing—I had let go with the consistent reminders of the permanent scars left in the crevices of my lip, and on my face—and though an entire child and perhaps several women between us, his need vengeance that I had left must have been mad, as the sweltering parasitic welt that riled up with enough fierceness to crawl into other sunken bodies, and surround my every waking moment. Not his power, at all, but a greater force of evil—the evil of all mankind—Satan himself seemed to have chosen me as his prey, my abuser as the illusion of conception.

There for I,

There for I,

There for I,

None! As truth did shatter mine ever being,

And also Ever person near

WHO VALIDATED THAT BITCH'S PARKING.

—you think she drove here?!

—if she did it would be on a broomstick.

Goddammit.

Get her out of here!

Out! I said!

You're…not a fan of Fallon's, are you.

No, I'm not.

(No—God, no.)

Well, why not?

First of all, he winks at people.

;)

*cringe*

Like, off camera.

JIMMY O'FALLON

And I want damages.

Damages?!

Damages.

He's seeking damages?! To what.

JIMMY O'FALLON

Like, my entire—everything.

Damages to everything.

My entire life!

Ah.

[The Festival Project ™]

I've got to admit, being sued hy Jimmy Fallon is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in the entirety of this series!

What about that thing with Skrillex.

(That was pretty exiting.)

Which thing with Skrillex?

All the things with Skrillex were pretty exciting.

(Admittedly, yes.)

Then there was Dillon Francis.

I hate Dillon Francis.

Exactly.

Why!

Because he excited you.

Next question!

Ahead.

Yo. I finally get to link up with Supacree.

You're a mess.

Everything is a mess.

The world is a mess.

—your mom's a mess.

Amanda, please.

Have you been drinking?

How long has deadmau5 been a cat?

Forever, I think.

Exciting!

Enter through the exit! Enter through the exit!

Who the fuck let you in here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

MARTHA STEWART'S plan for world domination is complete.

L E G E N D S

Johnny Moon was a handsome fellow;

Johnny Moon was a Sam as well.

Johnny Moon was a madman also;

Johnny Moon had indeed done bad.

Johnny Moon was a handsome devil;

Johnny Moon was a charming man

Johnny Moon went to heaven after

Johnny Moon finished in Hell.

Welcome To The Wonderful World of…

| The Complex Collective © |

By

[The Festival Project ™]

Breaking down that one scene from Ascension.

How the fuck did these two actors even get into the realm of ascension?

Being honest, I think it's that part of the dream like in The Wizard of Oz and/ or Alice in wonderland where everything just kind of bleeds together into one blurry weird world before it all explodes—or implodes—

Whatever, just kill yourself.

(On my way.)

Titus- Jason Sudakis

Perscimmion - Will Forte

Why.

I don't know why.

The King

(I'll let you decide.)

Titus and and Perscimmion—

One argues this character's name is actually “Persimmon”… i've generally myself no preference but though I had first heard it as “Simeon”— Apparently, actually, “Perscimmon”, or “Persimmon”, the former however not accurately as in other contexts, he is sometimes referred to as “Perci”

Whatever. Why is this Will Forte.

*shrugs*

Cause whatever, I don't know.

(I like his socks.)

Titus and Perscimmon—

Perscimmion

Whatever.

CUT TO:

/Bedtime Stories with Chak Chel

—or was it, Chak Chel's bedtime stories.

Whichever. No one cares.

THE COSMIC AVENGER/SUPACREE

Ugh grow up.

KIRSTEN SHAAL

Or is it Kristin?

Ugh

K, SHAAL

It could be whoever, or whatever— anyone— right?

GOOGLE KID 1

But it's not whoever.

GOOGLE KID 2

It is whoever.

GOOGLE KID 1

It's just two actors!

GOOGLE KID 3

—then pick better actors!

watch it!

K. SHAAL

It could be whatever, it could be whoever… I could be whoever! I'm whoever. It doesn't matter.

CUT BACK TO:

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S

Dissecting this recent excerpt from Ascencion

© The Festival Project, Inc. 2019

All rights reserved.

— have just discovered the King's seduction of a lady in waiting; the reigning Queen of her own dominion, betrothed to another, also presumed to be in his own right, a King.

As scholars and members of the high court, both Titus and Perscimmion are groomed to keep watch over the happenings within each quarry, as given jusrisdiction by the Asended Mastery to spectate freely throughout all lands, and as such; they often travel—often in pairs or groups.

Titus and Perscimmion

Persimmon

Whatever.

—have quickly departed, haveing spotted the King far out of bounds, to which the King quickly launches after these two Kingsmen in pursuit, and though their loyalty lies within no singular dictation, they somewhat begrudgingly agree it best to keep the King's secret, after he wearily explains to the men, as his friends and genuinely that he feels he has fallen truly in love with her.

KING IV

Titus!

[Titus is annoyed and expecting there to be a fight]

TITUS

Mellow. (Chill, bro)

KING IV

Be bold, you! (If you have something to say, then say it now and let's duke it out.)

TITUS

Never—mellow I am, as are we.

(Nah, I'm chillin. We cool.)

(I'm good, he's good—we chillin.)

PERCI

Chaos, you've spelled it.

(You've opened a can of worms, dude.)

(You got us all fucked up.)

(You fucked up.)

KING IV

I've spelled then many words

For our wise,

Nevermind before you found her waiting,

Dusk was fallen

And here you,

cry out such a task-

To have found her in waiting,

Not I or heavy bound,

But yet with lust,

The breath of motherdom on her wicked truth

The tied you have counted,

For I wisked away with every since

Your true intent, persist, I may.

The King implies here that he's made many conscious choices and has been playing at this game as a King, to which that only other royalty might understand, the strife of making hard decisions in which case, others might be hurt— or even killed.

He explains that he and this Queen have found common ground, confining in one another's understanding of hardship as leaders,

And that their attraction to one other has grown from this trust —naturally, and out of control; as he sees her maternal prime has approached; he suggests that he means no harm at all, but urges the men to think about what they plan to do with the discovery of their possible affair—nearly asking “what exactly do you plan to do with your knowledge of this?”

(Are you finna tell on me?)

(Who you finna tell?)

TITUS

Now. (Yo.) (srsly?)

[Titus is a bit pissed that the king would turn it around to imply that his knowledge of this secret could do more harm than the secret itself; he is quite visibly angry.]

[Perci keeps the peace by holding his friend back.]

PERCI

Mellow. (Chill, bro.)

KING IV

You found for call my wants;

Shallow, as it may

My need ne'er far behind the broken,

Does call to you, brother,

And you also,

For I widow in thought,

My fury

(I'm a man; I have needs— I often put my needs as a King behind that of ny entire Kindgom—you're both men; so you know how it is; the feelings I have can't be ignored—it's primal.)

A tear.

[sarcasm. He's suggesting “cry about it.” Or “why don't I believe you?” Or, blatently—]

(Cry me a river!)

A tear, you ask

But one does not cry as I seek

Fair judgement and ridicule,

Severed heart I,

Come now awakened in

To her,

A dusk had come,

Though night was golden

A dawn arose with fury in my bosom

Mine love awakened

[He implies to lose his composure would show weakness—the King also implies here that he does, however, feel horrible about it; that he expects to be reviled, killed, or even dethroned—that his heart has truly broken as he has discovered something new in him; he has fallen in love with her. That after spending the night with her, he had become anew.]

TITUS

Not love, but—[he begins to argue that it is only lust]

PERCI

Seldom! (Yeah right/ that's rare.)

KING IV

Love, I bear you mine honest hands,

The wilted rose,

Blood upon thornes,

Truly marks I who has come

To wake in her

(I'm telling you, I'm really in love with her.)

[the king pleas that painstakingly so, his love is pure and true]

PERCI

Then. (Whatever.)

[Titus gives up and agrees]

TITUS

So, I mellow. (Okay, okay.)

[finally Percimmon speaks his mind]

(Or whatever the fuck his actual name is)

::||pause.

By now it ought to be obvious to you, dear reader and listener, that I am in fact, dictating this—translating these things for you sent from some faraway higher realm, for the sake of the art and with the purpose of your understanding my true intentions, as fellow human and as a writer, to live in the way I desire, honestly and wholeheartedly, without further interruption to my sanctity and wellness, in peace—

Until my departure from this world.

Does that quite say it?

I don't know.

Whatever.

::||Unpause.

PERCI

(By the way apparently some decendant or incarnation of the God Percius, son of Zeus)

PERCIUS

PERSCIMMION

SIMMEON

PERSCIMMON

PERCI

(You get it, right?)

Mits infinite,

And for the sake of this concept,

Let's just consider this—

All the same fucking guy,

Or at the very least,

Very closely interacting versions of this same guy

Within these parallels

Of time and space

Wherein these worlds

And realms

Exist.

Okay?

Ok.

Good.

Proceeding.

[this dude's pretty much been quiet the whole time but now is a little tiffed himself.]

PERCI

Did you fear for not

The death that approaches,

For now you call I,

And our brethren here,

For siren had sounded to wake,

You in the light and there destined to love

By blood is bound,

And yet you wait, here now on high

Calling to us, havingbeen hound by light,

Whether you did, or did not forsought

Come as foreign

And leave again

Worried, feather feared at all

That by this blood, you too shall weep,

To reap again what you sow

Or shall they say,

As punishment,

For cause just binds??

(Did it bother you at all to think that not only you might get killed, but get us all killed?! Now you're asking us to lie for you— because all of a sudden, you're in love with this woman; a blood oath set in stone, and her having been betrothed— and here you come, running after us, after it finally occurs to you—whether you meant for it to happen or just “didn't think about it”, went all this way just to fuck shit up (complicate things), then come back home freaking out, running around like a chicken with your head cut off (acting like a crazy bird about to get eaten) saying that, whoever has to hurt or be killed over all this, you feel really bad about— but overall, know you what's coming to you, and you know, and I know, and he knows that we'll probably just all be better off not telling anybody about this…at least for now… but eventually, someone's bound to find out about this, and the less people “know”, the better…right?)

KING IV

Now. (Yeah.)

TITUS

I second. (I agree.)

KING IV

Here, too, I second,

I third, even for not I as you,

And you both as I,

And how,

The sun has set upon us,

Why, death is sure to come

As I rise,

But give me no mercy, this

Mellow now,

I only beg

What here has transpired

Silence here,

Between myself and I—

Brethren.

(So we all agree that it's better that this all just stays between us.)

[the king implies that either way the truth will probably come out and he will die for it, but for now, the secret is best kept between them, with the understanding that they too could be killed in the vengeance and damage of the truth being told sooner than later.]

Steady ye we all sigh as one. (I'm basically you.) / (if any of us go down, we all go down.)

Steady ye as my death is yours. (We are one) (we're fucked, but whatever I guess.)

Steady be my tongue as forced to lie with sacred heart true love does lie.

(I hate having to do this but my love is true)

So be it. (Fine)

So, then. (Very well then.)

Honor thy pardon. (Thank you guys.)

Off, then. (Just …go.) (Get out)

[the king quickly vanishes into the night]

Damn, that took me longer to decode than I actually spent writing it.

You—wrote this?

I…

Whatever.

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

We're going somewhere else.

What does that mean?

Somewhere else!

You know why I hate you, Fallon?

Fuck. I gotta find Fallon.

Places

[The Festival Project ™]

I should know why…

—because you are good at everything you do.

I always was. What can I say?

Nothing. Shut up.

That's your job.

I don't have a job.

Oh, that's right.

That's right.

[Fallon seems slightly intimidated, but nevertheless, cocky—bold and arrogant as always—and of course—

—smug. ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

The older the wiser—

The bigger the better

The taller the whiter

The richer the further you are

From the life that you want

Typically, typically

Oh, there you go again

For

Richer for poorer

Old

Haunts with old souls it's,

No wonder you dissaolved on the

Revolving door

When it's all the same concious thought

That you walked all of your dogs

To the mall in

The same four thoughts

The same

It must be getting dark

The souls are seeming more

Forgotton

Spirits wandering

Here are you now

Here I

Nigga drinking money

No one ever noticed

We must be one in the same,

Since I ain't g/have /give a damn

God, thank you God.

I told you, I love New York.

Who doesn't?

The poor…

—Broken.

On God,

On train

All four

On one

On God

4 train

6 stops

Cause I got

Money

Power cut off

I just came back from Whole Foods market

I hate shopping

Fact

Artifacts

Don't ever stop recording

Even when you want to

I might look broke

But I got money.

I'm worth it

Dot dot dot doe

Don't keep me waiting

I'm wanting to hear from you

Wading, wading.

I'm fading away

I'm fading away

I am fading away, l—

I am fading away

I see a whole ass love story.

Super synthesis you ought to draw that

Sitting right across the devil

Sitting right across the four corridors of summer sworn nonsense

I wrote two novels four summers

I took two photos, on vortex

I took two sworn oaths, far side

Master, mortar

Brick and—

I love New York now,

But order,

My far mind

Gone in the antelope

Wind and the demon ways

On, but you severed this tie

I loved him

But could not

Quite trust

Blue eyes, God

I love him.

Two minds now,

One goes the course,

One goes the other route

Same and semi,

Sometimes never

Someday never comes,

When you can't stop crying

On God,

I lost you

Ten minutes to count

Ten minutes of fame,

And again it all adds up

The stopwatch loops around again as if

Nothing ever mattered to keep track of

I found you here,

The way it went

I left you there

And then, infinite

I caught a glimpse as if

Something had shined across my back

There, master,

Same slave I always reckoned I never

Coming from others, Therin just a wince

Just a tip for a chance

Of harsh breaths

I recon still

No-ordinary-love.co

How much is that gonna hurt

Like a lot l'm assuming

Same as always

Same as always

‘ Same as always

Are you ever on time, or just—

Kind of by it?

Are you biased or just a front for more wartime?

Warcrimes.

Let's bury that in a shallow place of my mind.

The deeper the whole, the root it had gave

The shower of shame and grandiosity

Wishing you were there

Wishing you were here

Wishing you were

For me

Out, the arrow.

It will by now come around again

Arousing shaeffer, nearer aggrandized

Which one are you now!

My story has come

One another

Again

Both things

Never entered

Never shattered

I am now

We are as one

Again as the other

The shame in your heroine

Give God a hard shout;

Are you sure about coming forward, or not inbound

Shattered

Collapsed

Chaos in the wind

Never made it home on time

Are you

There you are in a straight line

Come now, give wind

Give something other than

Your love for once

Give money

Bet it all, God.

Who you want it's an apostrophe

I ain't got no apology

Apology

I ain't got no apology

Apology

—Atrocity.

—Philosophy.

—Psychology.

Delicate staccatos at the stop sign

||

Cross the walk to superstardom

{Enter The Multiverse}

Man, I don't know why I fuck with you. You're like the Drake of comedians.

Drake is the Drake of comedians.

Faded parallels

Cross intersections of time collapsing

Infrequent mantras

Gates of Heaven open,

And then closed again

Nearer and then father

Calling out to no one

Home you nearer, nothing

Push you back with tied hands

I swear

The ring finger on him

A lie like Pinocchio nose

And every time he think about me

It grows back

I put my head in a noose,

Dueceas, confusion

Loose lips and bruises

Just remember, I didn't choose this

You did

Black boy fly,

Your mom says hi

Every time I see a motherfucker wanna cry

Almost,

Still don't want clout

I just moved out

Alcohol, boo— mow

I mean meow. I'm a cat

I called you ten times.

Call me back!

Sitting waiting on your text

It's been 48 hours,

I'm still undressed

Ach—

Uh, bless you

S on my chest, finna guess you

Mister ain't been here since

Scissors sisters dismissed you,

Seven thru mirrors and dozens of dreams since

They scream “Illuminati”

And I scream at them:

“It's just a test!”

Pressed resin,

No past, future no present

Pressed resin,

Still a desert

No past, no future no present

Pressed resin.

Run for president,

I'm still a resident,

I‘m just kidding

Tats on my head,

Piss on my grave

This shit is in grave danger

No room for nobody but a baby in this manger

If this major gets wagers and disc players

From gang banging

I ain't playing with you, bitch

It's still a robbery,

I'm sorry, B.

He says she's said.

I got legs on my Pegasus

I never said whoever was better than

The others is

Listen;

This answer to this,

Lies in its simplicity

Lies and wrists bleeding,

Secrets and he gets envious

Of others,

When he reads this,

Jesus

Simple, simplicity is it

I get seeing and pleading,

But needed to

Reject, eh

Eject

Synthesis, infinite,

It gets into different subjects

And sees itself,

Remembered in images

Simplicity, isn't

Isn't, religious,

Per Say,

Or needless to be said

Freedom and

KLLY

F—ck Regis!

You know what he just—!?

Niggas.

I'm kidding, it's RIP to him—

Isn't it?

If it wasn't, it is and I just announced it

How do you pronounce this?

(C'cxell Soleïl)

Just write me a check and if it doesn't bounce—

I'll think about it.

Man, where the fuck is this train at?

“The Great Adventures of Uptown A”

I promised myself this morning I would just lay there

I hate her, but more I hate

Being here

Or being there, or

Going anywhere without a hat on

I l l squatted in the street just to shag on em

PIP!

That's what his name was!

Finally, Christ.

I thought I‘d lost her!

And Ping was his friend's name.

Jesus Christ.

Must have been important

Must have.

Jesus Christ.

“Why I Hate Union Square”

By CC Stone

&

[Why u love upon were]

Ahem.

(Why I Love Union Square)

By Blū Tha Gürū

They said I hadn't done this before

Whatever I was trying to write getting off the train was lost on that day.

Surely.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Tina taddle tale…

Sudakis.

So wait. Which one is Chris Parnell.

The other one.

So then.

Um.

Wait,

Which one is Jerry in Rick and Morty.

Are you serious?

No, get out.

I get them confused.

What.

Are you serious.

Same SNL cast. Right?

Or close.

FISHSTICKS.

Liz, get in here.

There, I fixed it.

Oh. You dirty dog you.

Is that what I am?

Worse than me.

Oh, come on.

Something not the same.

I swear to god. Just let him win.

Alright.

Ok.

But—for what?

Just let him win, or you're gonna regret it.

I regret this.

I regret it.

Sometimes I'm so drunk

I'm stone cold sober.

Sometimes I'm so stone,

I can hardly lift weights,

Lift my own weight, that is

I'm heavy as hell in here

Given angel wings

And i'm green, I think

But I've never been well, then

Well then

I love you.

Okay.

Shamrocks and idols,

Wagons and chariots,

Still suicidal and

Everything wreaks of him

The reminisce of the writing

Remember who the wife is,

I'm still so suicidal,

I could have carved this eye into my head myself

Instead of his

Regrets again

Some medicine and stomach man,

Pain is easy

Love is hard,

So suicidal,

I forgot not to fall in love at all

With superstars

Or cosmic stardust

Nothing stars at all

Besides the sun of ours

Oh, why God?

The truth?

You tell me the truth!

Okay, but then you've gotta prove it.

Sold

Solve the equation

Math?! I

I like math

You, too, then.

Titus!

Mellow.

Be bold, you!

Never—mellow I am, as are we.

Chaos, you've spelled it.

I've spelled then many words

For our wise,

Nevermind before you found her waiting,

Dusk was fallen

And here you,

cry out such a task-

To have found her in waiting,

Not I or heavy bound,

But yet with lust,

The breath of motherdom on her wicked truth

The tied you have counted,

For I wisked away with every since

Your true intent, persist, I may.

Now.

Mellow.

You found for call my wants;

Shallow, as it may

My need ne'er far behind the broken,

Does call to you, brother,

And you also,

For I widow in thought,

My fury

A tear.

A tear, you ask

But one does not cry as I seek

Fair judgement and ridicule,

Severed heart I,

Come now awakened in

To her,

A dusk had come,

Though night was golden

A dawn arose with fury in my bosom

Mine love awakened

Not love, but

Seldom!

Love, I bear you mine honest hands,

The wilted rose,

Blood upon thornes,

Truly marks I who has come

To wake in her

Then.

So, I mellow.

Did you fear for not

The death that approaches,

For now you call I,

And our m brethren here,

For siren had sounded to wake,

You in the light and there destined to love

By blood is bound,

And yet you wait, here now on high

Calling to us, havingbeen hound by light,

Whether you did, or did not forsought

Come as foreign

And leave again

Worried, feather feared at all

That by this blood, you too shall weep,

To reap again what you sow

Or shall they say,

As punishment,

For cause just binds??

Now.

I second.

Here, too, I second,

I third, even for not I as you,

And you both as I,

And how,

The sun has set upon us,

Why, death is sure to come

As I rise,

But give me no mercy, this

Mellow now,

I only beg

What here has transpired

Silence here,

Between myself and I—

Brethren.

Steady ye we all sigh as one.

Steady ye as my death is yours.

Steady be my tongue as forced to lie with sacred heart true love does lie.

So be it.

So, then.

Honor thy pardon.

Off, then.

[The King quickly vanishes into the night.]

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

'kalypso'

Collection 2.1 'appearences'

Track 02. 'kalypso'

Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū

[Hurrying backstage and hunched over, off screen and out of sight of the audience, this man is clearly on the brink of a nervous breakdown.]

I'm gonna puke I'm gonna vomit.

Hey!

I'm gonna puke, I'm gonna vomit,

I'm gonna hurl.

Hey.

Oh God.

Are you okay?

He stiffens up, standing straight and regaining his composure almost immediately, as if nothing had happened.

Yeah. Everything's fine.

Are you sure?

You're crazy.

This is simple.

Okay.

It's not FAIR.

Nothing is FAIR.

All is fair in love and war!!

Well, this is neither— it's TV.

“Telephoto”

‘Teleform'

And

‘Telesynthesis'

Who here can explain the difference?

A girl leans over from slinking back in her desk to her classmate—they are both wearing sunglasses which seems odd, considering that they are obviously indoors; the lecture hall, as vast as it may be, can seem as such an intimate classroom—the students here have been studying as a class together here for so long that their familiarity with each other is much like that of a large family—however—very large; there are thousands of them, actually, in total, divided by sects into guilder chapters, designated by speciality and type, each having been given specific assignments, relegated by their gifts.

I have to tell you something.

Can it wait?

Probably.

—because she's going to pick on m—

Cecile.

Actually, it's—

(Sighing deflatedly)

(With sarcasm)

Glorious Agony.

She slinks back into her seat, slouching

See.

Your anticipation is distinguished.

…Thank you.

That was at worst a compliment and at best a suggestion to minimize and regulate your frequency as to remain undetectable, if not to be synchronized with the rest of your classmates—thoughtfully so.

Rather thoughtless, actually.

Well think of it— and speaking of such;

Telesynthesis:

Telesynthesis is to adapt one's functional vibration and frequency to match the commonly shared vibration at which the majority of conscious inhabitants in one's immediate field, environment, or space.

And—Teleform

To materialize within any given space the perception of a shared reality within one's given realm and or secondary dimension.

Good.

Thank you, Cecielle.

Actually, it's—

Now—

Moving along.

The teacher again begins to lecture, as the girl once again slowly begins to lean over towards cecil , still frustrated from her interaction with the professor.

Pssssst.

Are you serious?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

My breath is shallow,

My heart is lonely.

The poster shadow

Of many moons forshadoed.

Again, I lie awake, screaming,

Not calling

I'm screening your calls

You want ice cream with that,

Or what.

(Or what)

Probably or what, though

In a nutshell,

I don't want you

I thought your hollow bones

Could swallow us whole

To another,

Long, long gone

Summer.

Sure, the show goes on

—but it won't without you.

For sure,

The show goes on—

But it won't without you

Turn the phone on,

Turn it over

At the airport,

Watching Conan

Oh yeah,

A honey blonde,

Shucks.

Honeysuckle wants only

To become

Sweet, ripe salmon berry

(Don't you want to)

At the airport,

Watching conan

Overhead, I

Overheard a phone call

“What the fuck did you just say?”

It's been 3 days;

She went missing at MIA

No connection to jfk

No connection at all Munroe, you blind bastard

All the water

All the drugs

All in the wash

It's water under the toenails

(Four fingers up,

But the fourth one lost it)

At the airport

Watching Conan

I over heard you

Turn the phone off

Semi-sync or something,

Semi dysfunction

Chemists hemispheres

All his fears are

In my head

I stand at the front at the edge of the the platform so there's just less temptation to jump

(White Nikes is for chumps)

Everybody is a goddamn DJ these days

Especially on her bday

When she asks for a replay of that remix

Bitch please

I sit alone bc with my phone and my notebook.

By the end of a river

A cold brook

Wrote a whole mother novel

A classy story

For the world gone wrong

You fucking Morin

Fungi up I get more fond l

I stand in the train with my back against the wall

So the shadow markers won't stand behind

And grab me

Fuck man, fuck off

There's a lot of blue here

Must be something to do here

I need new gear

Stuck inside of my l life

Since new years

Whose here?

WHAT THE FUCK MORGIE?

SUNNI!

MORE HEINIKEN!!!!

You CANNOT. Drink with that ankle monitor on.

I know.

So why are you drinking?!

I took the ankle monitor off.

Nogga yo feet is small.

Like smaller than mine.

I been staring at your gut this whole train ride.

How the fuck are you like a 5x

And your feet are a ladies size 6?

The fuck.

You need some help, bro.

I ain't been to the gym in two days

But you got fairy feet

My nigga

My hip bone s apes against the railing;

I've three children, but you'd not know I;

I'm holding in cereal, cleaning out stuff for cereal boxes m,

Audio level

Aux chords polished

Shined as silver,

Hair as Golden,

Still no meadows,

My eyes rest in

My, I'm tired.

Please don't mind me,

Bright blue jumper

Still no meadow

I lay down in

Still no meadow

Hair as golden

Old blue boxers

Boxes

Please don't mind me

Oh, you started it

Oh, you started it

No motion sensors

Already alcoholic,

Still halls

And still water

Oh,

You started it

Oh. You started it

Sure, don't fall out of

Heroin antics,

Sure, don't fall forward,

Only to fall out

Oh. You started it

Damn! Why the devil always gotta stand behind a motherfucker, huh?

Fuckin creepo.

Haven't you decided yet that you are the devil.

I am one and all

And all things, I am

Still in my mind I am,

Never behind,

But always ahead

Always right, and not wit wars

I stand in line for the stairs

The slower the better the more I write

Imm on fast God

Fasting time

I'm on fully automatic

The faster we go

The harder the heroin

The longer we stop for

The harder we party

Off bandwagon

There I go—

(Are I now)

There you are?

Fully automotive

Fully automatic

Fully on the wrong road.

It matters hoping

No more tears for lost stardom

No more neon signs

No halter tops

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I don't have my phone off

Shit, I work harder in hell

When I take all my clothes off.

I couldn't even pretend to give two fucks right now

I'm chained to a train

With another one headed right towards me.

I don't mind what's the line your on

Whose line is it anyway, good line at the equinox

Step over me

Hoarder

I'll say,

Here for all time;

Wherefor art though

Simple and stuck

In my own ways

All day I sat in haides

No semtember

Sick morons

Long, long October

Still started

No water

Two dogs

And a blonde

No show starter.

But There goes all that

All the next understudies

And sure profiles,

Fair weather friends again

—creepy ass inanimate muppets.

Fuck, man.

Somebody stick their fuckin hand up Elmo's ass before I punch him.

Don't punch Elmo.

Who doesn't love Elmo.

I do not.

What did you say your name was?

I didn't.

What did you say is your expertise?

Rhythms.

Mister mister l

NOOOOOOOO.

Some black dude rubbed his whole dick against my wrist on the subway train.

gnarly.

It was warm.

And weird—

Like a fucking

Sleeping cat

Under Egyptian cotton

AGHHHHHHJ.

AOh no.

I THOUGHT MY HAND WENT PARALYZED.

It just siezed up, real crunchy, like—

*chicken foot arm*

I automatically had like the whole thing going on.

The worst part was that it was warm—

And soft//

But HUGE.

I was like

What ANIMAL is that.

I will never.

I could NEVER

I said.

what.

I just got to the point in my life where I realized I wasn't interested in anything.

!but especially

I'm looking for

Sage to burn

I goy money go burn

I got time to earn mi got money to chase

Ain't got money to waste

You've got to admit x

It's a good savings system

—for once, the sauce sounded like symphonies

And wreaked of green peppers, or rather, was fragrant

CHECKPOINT!

I remember this part!

I remember this place

This time

This dance

This song,

Then— everyone does

And everything does, doesn't it?

Show ants the advocate

The advocate of another time

I think I ran here on

What if everything cheaper online

But it's just the adventure you wished for

Have you ever tried to be mad

With squeaky ass shoes on

Seriously

Have you ever tied to like walk away

Or stop away mad

With squeaky ass shoes?

Is that the pub?

I guess.

You guess! Is this the right pub or is it not?

I don't know which pub is the right pub! He just said “Irish pub” you could throw a rock and hit one!

Sometimes it's best,

To just not give

A single fuck at all

At all at all

A single fuck at all.

I don't give a flipping song!

Woah now

i don't give a flap or a stick!

Alright, alright.

Leave me alone to die

I'll melt inside the world

A coin upon a string

Run, girl, run

Of course, of course

It lives again

It'll come again

When the Sunnis down.

I can't wait till the sundown

I can't wait till the world is kind

And the girls are gone

And the birds all hush

And the dogs don't bark

And the sun downt come

Till I'm long long gone and out of it

I'm over her, no more war and art over sodom

And stardom as startuduat

Like I said, you started it

I always did

I didn't want

I only done

To suffer

Suffer more

Will you rot you blossom corpse

The art is done

The art is done!

The water's hot

No wonder white people fucking hate us.

I saw a black dude on the train. Today with his dick in his pocket.

NO, GOD.

WHY!

And he was holding it, too.

I'm like

“What for?!”

Jesus Christ's.

It was in his pocket.

Outlined and everything,

With his fucking grip around it

Like it was a fucking animal.

No!

No!

Man some people are so fuckin wrong

I hate pda.

I fuckin hate it.

The Real versions come across a parallel reality's version of themselves—who by some chance, also happened to cross paths with each other—however—this band of miscreants are HOOLIGANS—unruly lawbreakers who cause chaos, confusion, and trouble to the good people of

Where the fuck is this.

—wherever they are.

Don't come round here!

I will fuck your socks off— and sell them back to you!

The sex was free;

But the socks will cost you.

But—they're my socks.

Were and could be again…for a price.

Goddamn.

Yes, Goddamn indeed.

BROH.

JOHN OLIVER IS MAD BRITISH.

AVADAKAVARAH!

I TOLD YOU, I WAS A WITCH DOCTOR!

WHATEVER! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A LATE NIGHT HOST!

EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB.

THAT'S A NIGHT JOB!

EXPECTO-PA–

POTTER!!!

WHAT IN THE [BEEP}! YOU'RE A WIZARD?!

OF COURSE I'M A BLOODY WIZARD–WHAT THE HELL DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU?!

ANOTHER LATE NIGHT HOST–OR WHATEVER!

“OR WHATEVER” I'M A WIZARD–

HARRY.

What the [bleep]

EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB

™

Please, by all means,

Keep your pretty white girlfriend.

I want to see those eyes come through

What a handsome couple.

They are the scariest thing ever.

Let them be, then;

Out to be fun to watch.

I can't listen to Drake on my loud speakers bro.

Not—like loud, man.

That shit makes me feel like a whole ass basic black girl.

True story.

Sometimes you gotta distance yourself from the “yassss” birds.

I saw this one comedian performing—

Well, I think he was a comedian.

He wasn't funny to me but,

He had like 710K followers

And he was really really pretty.

I had to notice that, because as imm listening to him preform, about 30 minutes into the video—

I was waiting to see if he would make me actually laugh—

He didn't—

But—

As I was trying to figure out how he has 710K followers

And has not made me laugh, not once

I start paying closer attention to him—

And I realize;

“Oh”

He is major good looking.

At first I didn't notice—

I like white guys— so,

Of course,

At first glance

I'm like

“Hey brother!”

You know, like

“That's my son!”

I'm like

“Yeah, make me laugh, boy.”

But he didn't

And then as I start to wonder

Like,

Why or how he has so large of a following

I notice he's very beautiful.

And I mean, like mad gorgeous.

Like ideally—

I'm like

“Oh” and as I'm realizing this,

He's saying the punchline to a “joke,”

And as he's saying it, I realize that way in the back,

Like you can hear that they're in the back

Cause the camera is in the center,

And like half of the audience is behind the film crew

, and you can hear these girls are in the way—

Like in the way back

Like in the way, way back,

You can hear like a pack of ratchets—

Yes— these must be his die hards—

His squad.

Not like his homies or anything, but like

The Groupies.

You know.

The hopefuls.

He's got this group of black girls like hackling in the back, like clapping hard at all his punches like

“YAS!”

“SAY IT!”

And it was funny because his reaction to these girls was like

“I'm—not in control of this.”

“RIGHT!”

“SAY LESS!”

I'm like,

Oh, I see how that works, now.

{Enter The Multiverse}

And even I

Just want it to fucking stop

So it can just be over with

Oh why,

Not another fucking lover boy

After all of them

Oh no—

But this one's worse;

Maybe even the worst of all of them

Because as I exit my prison cell,

I find this dude behind bars—

Maybe even happily.

And now I'm out into the world

Supposedly free—

But still trapped with this mentality

As if whatever I had before—

Maybe even possibly the worst, lowest existence

At least for me,

Was somehow

Better

—can anyone tell me why?

Not even God, besides the obvious point that perhaps

The Devil is in the mind;

He likes to arouse,

To play games,

And tricks

And I,

Myself

Perhaps

Have fallen prey,

Not to become victim to this;

But a player in the game.

A pawn.

AND WHY HAS NOBODY DRAWN ON THESE YET,

THEY'VE BEEN UP FOR SEEMINGLY

forever and always

And this nigga has

Not one snaggletooth

No graffiti tettoos

No fucking sharpie lip injections.

Nothing.

Do you remember that story how Johnny Depp hated his face up on a billboard—

So he went rogue and painted over it?

Yeah? So?

What if it's like that.

I don't think it's like that.

—I think it's the opposite of that, actually.

And if anything—

If I see not a one defacing of these posters

And they are everywhere

If anything,

Jimmy Fallon is the guy

With a spray bottle of acetone

And a fucking microfiber rag

Wiping that shit off

In his free time

WHAT FREE TIME?

You tell me.

But first—

Somebody—

Anybody tell me

Why this happened.

At all.

Anybody?

Somebody.

C'mon.

{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

Enough with these weak dick pussy motherfuckers..

I still got 30 minutes in my cycle routine!

Here you come with your pussy ass punches;

AIGH.

OOOOOH.

Come on, put some weight in them shits!

Pretend it's my face.

Damn. I lost fat Jimmy Fallon.

How'd you lose him?! He's hard to lose!

And slow!

Damn!

THE SUPER FAT JIMMY FALLON is trying to slim down; he munches on a chocolate chewy bar (read: eats it in two biles and grips the wrapper anxiously.)

Imm a whole ass nigga

Come try take me out my head

I got corn in the fridge

I got bread

I got money to spend

On you

(On you$

On you

I got money to spend

On you I

I gotta go

What happened

Jew stuff.

Ah yes.

I remember now.

Yeah, that's a Jew.