The Secret Life Of Sunnï Blū

You broke my heart

(And the windows on my car)

What was all that for?

Now you you've started a holy war

I've got scars on my arms

I might love them a little more

I guess you are what you are

After all—you're a star

I'm bat shit crazy, I'm

Blind, so blind and now I'm

Hiding in a life I decided I was mine

I tried to find you

Tried to find the answer

Tried to find the time,

And now I'm fighting suicide against denial

—I still really love your smile

I had to know—and so I had to ask; both the ocean, and The Instagram Algorithm—about Dillon Francis—and, to my luck and great dispar, was swiftly answered. Now I could crawl back into my cave of obscurity and begin the elemental essentials to gather and burn all that was left of everything I had written about the the man himself; needing of course to steer clear of nothing now but love—or a lack thereof, as it were.

Now I understood that the feelings and emotions tied up in this man were indeed true, beyond real in the sense that I couldn't hold back tears, but with some gentle motion I could sway them into music; needing to shed my skin and escape my nightmarish surroundings, I would need more than a prayer—the universe had been calling me to fast; now I would answer in the only way I could, the fresh and awestruck pain of heartbreak I had knowingly caused myself, the only strain to conquer.

I loved him.

The running was over with, and the hiding was done for— I had backed myself into a corner; a comfortable wall to curl up in non existence, meanwhile, nothing—because if I could figure that If I did not see it for myself or could not otherwise randomly fathom to imagine, it did not exist, or it could not be.

Who are you,

To evoke emotion

A notation of focus,

Awoke in the moment to know,

Vote for a hope,

Or a rope, just to—

—hangglide.

What's two hands,

What's two fists look like to you?

What's two feet, what's two wrists to you—?

What's two lips, two blue eyes;

In an instant

What's to listen to the the tune of you again?

“Please Text Back”

What is this?

Another emotion,

Another world we opened,

A parallel dimension,

Just beside the hell we live in—

Exists all of this

I'd put it into Ableton, if I was able to;

The way you make me move,

And what I feel for you—

Appealing, if you're real, down to the roots

And reel-to-real

I feel so stupid—

She'll—be everything I asked for him

She is—the one I called for hoping

She was—my dream inside a dream once;

Now, digging my own grave up

Just to prove my luck, or something

So, to us, it's only justice, undone

On the walk to Eden,

It was all of us;

I reap what I've sown;

Nothing comes of nothing

Give to get,

And live to eat,

The answer's “hungry”,

If you're asking

But no one's asking,

‘And Dillon Francis's is handsome,

He had to have known that—‘

I sat at the alter, my ocean

And read to her, poetry

I wonder for nothing,

And want even less, no discussions—

Percussion in repercussions,

Patterns of claps and hats,

happen to manage the panic;

Perhaps if I laughed a little,

Or loved a little,

I'd have sung more loudly as they hung me,

From the bungalow windowsill;

It's silly how I'd kill myself again for never listening

And never listening

And never listening

—we never kissed, but always met at intersections, when needed;

Break bread for breakfast, or brunch, with the Goddess and her Demons

Never had I saw or wanted a flying saucer— until I saw two of them, off in the distance

With no one on them,

But God, I'm honest and stopped it all at once,

Just to turn on and tune in, and now I'm the April Fool—

It was just an illusion;

Another simplistic collision of infinite

What was your name again?

I'll have to ask my ex—

—husband…

Cause one time,

someone loved me.

As it turned out,

I held more feelings for the man than I had previously thought, or had motionlessly been in absolute denial of for quite some time; there wasn't another option or subject of distraction—I had been stuck on Dillon Francis, or at least the thought of him, even with the startling lack thereof. I needed to love, but it seemed to be in short supply, at least, for me, no matter where I went or what I did there. Still, while The Instagram Algorithm beckoned me to believe one thing, my intuition conditioned me to comprehend another—there was something deeper within myself and greater outwardly looming over the prénsense of this innate attraction—and though it had all started innocently, it had cascaded and begun to collapse into a avalanche of unhandled business and forgotten circumstances—

I was shaken and needed to be restrung in some way that would hold me together, until the easy way out became the hard way; perhaps if I could project into my reality what it was that nature had foretold, I could extend my being beyond that of which seemed to be an end.

At least it had been done again, in the severance of the flow of one love, there had to come another—as it's been done in generations through every genre time and time before whichever one this was, mankind had something down to an exact science for once; to withdraw the essence of love from the source of which it comes, leaving one only damaged enough to murmur or hum the would-be some-part, of some-song—if not to be sung, at least strummed out, or at the very least, written as record. Now, though I had lost nearly all ambition, I was entirely filled with enough neglect to become the apathetic, dark and untouchable alchemist I always was—reality back in touch. The final judgement was: I loved Dillon as much as I had loved Sonny, but in another way entirely—so much so, that overall, his happiness above anything to happen was what I wanted—and though I felt I had been ‘Kayla Lauren'd' once more, there was a deeper sense of doubt that with enough creativity, would bring about a world of its own—as if the world that had been created in the infinite “if” of Dillon Francis was large enough by itself to consume an idle mind with even the slightest of combustion; His eyes would drive me wild—and all that I dared to remember of the time we would spend together, is myself becoming lost in them.

‘They are green sometimes'.

I loved the grey streaking in his beard, reminding me of what I was, rather than what I had become in the midsts of it—my soul just as ancient as all the love it was made of—and now I had done it not once, but always; decided I could love anything about any one and multiply that into an infinite, undying and unconditional love—which it already was.

I'm sorry, God;

Or whoever's watching

All I wanted was love

With the one who would want me;

Now I'm a ghost, although something is haunting me

Wanted my glass house, but can't throw a rock in it

Off in a rocket ship;

What was the cost of it?

Nod off on a trip, dripping lips on the window

A kiss, just an instant to

lick up a hit of the acid

I missed wishing just as simplisticly

To live again

I'd end it if,

The reason weren't so stupid

It's not you,

I've just been used too much to do this

Overruled:

This never happened

So I had to laugh

I had to laugh

I had to laugh

I had to laugh

I had to love him, only

Cause I had to love myself, for a moment

The door was open,

I went walking in,

Then closed it;

Only now I'm here alone—

At least I own it

And I only wanted

Love

From someone who wanted

To love me

And I only wanted a hug;

But I guess I kind of got it

If you want, you know

I'll drop it, like the rock fell from my pocket

I forgot which one it was I fell in love with,

After all, I'm only nothing

“It was nothing”

It was fun

It was another father, son and brother;

Oh, no wonder—

Life is so wonderful

Falling in love with the digital runoff

Of someone with all of it

Everything I ever wanted

Everything I was, and wasn't

Just to front the cost,

Just never good enough

To come of

One, again

All I wanted was love

From the one who wanted to love me;

Now all I got is—

A closet full of skeletons,

A cause of death,

And a hot topic,

If this is Martyrdom

‘This is what happens when you dare to dream, then stop believing in it; you become caught between worlds in the catastrophic maelstrom between the world of the living, and the shattered reality you once called your dream'

now I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a hot shower; a place to call home—I was so far stretched out beyond my comfort zone that again the thought of an instant means to an end became again, a pressing and dire need— I had only scratched the surface here and there and never had begun to break the ice—but anything I had said or done now may as well have been inscribed in stone, everything was temporary, but just fully so, it was also permanent. The looming answer was truly, that either way, I was right—either the slip in my stream of consciousness with Dillon had vanished as he began to keep the company of another more presently—just as in my early premonitions with Sonny had foretold of Kayla Lauren not too long before I would become aware of her—that my dream of Dillon in the presiding weeks accompanied by a dazzling readhead, the inspiration for “Chelsea, Chelsea!” Whispered a daunting truth; that as I suspected, anything or anyone I cared to love would be taken from me promptly; and though in the months since the literal tripping and falling into love with such a character, I had tirelessly worked to remove the romanticism and passion that had pent up within, pushing down and toiling away with the notion of a reality where, after all, my King to be had been all along, Dillon Francis. Though with a vital and vivid sense of intuition I had seen it all, I presumed it was nothing more than a flash of whimsical and innocent fantasy, admirable to those with an eye for love; a spark for my creation, which had been diminished—or so I thought.

I couldn't help but feel a fool, and baffled myself that indeed, I was in tears—because of Dillon Francis. After nearly months of tearless apathy, I had begun to think myself immune to emotion or feeling—surrounded by a slew of reflections and past companions, I had begun to again lose myself to the motion of too much carelessness, my own needs neglected from lack of finances—and seemingly excommunicated from American Society; I began to fall violently out of love with Sonny, as the universe spun me into a web where I was the fly, and the spider tying me was the spitting image of the damningly handsome once-Apple of my eye; not that I had actually lost any of the feeling for him—but, that the feeling itself had changed dramatically from a writhing passion, to a fury tinged with the blood and sweat of sacrifice in exchange for nothing, and the bitterness of genetic competition—Kayla Lauren no longer taking the brunt of my anger, but falling into irrelevance, Sonny himself becoming the poster child for everything I stood to dismiss, in music, and in general— if I were to convict that I hated him, it would only mean stagnancy, in that I still hated myself; however, strikingly, it was not so—i had begun to love myself quite so, that what I hated was the toxic world where all the men I so admired and desired thrived. Sifting through slides of the lives I wanted mine to mimick, a smile was summoned from under the rock I lived in; hiding from any of the repercussions I may have built to arrive just in time to dull my shine if I became too rampantly outward with my intentions—which, by now, were simple, at best—“at best” being limited again, only by what I could see and know.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I wanna make dubstep.

Dubstep.

Yes.

Why.

Because.

Why.

I don't know. I just want to make Dubstep with my black girl magic.

Half black.

...half-black girl magic.

You can't. There's no such thing.

Yes there is.

No there isn't.

Yes there is--if there's black girl magic, and i'm half black, then there's half black half black girl magic.

Yess...but you can't use that to make dubstep.

I can't.

No. You can't.

Okay...what....do I need to make dubstep?

Talent.

Okay--

Ahaaaa, just kidding.

?

You need Satan.

WHAT?

Yeaaaah. I know. I'm not a fan either, but.

FAN? Aren't you afraid of him?

Nah. Satan can't do shit.

Then how do I need him to make dubstep.

He's very powerful.

I don't need Satan to make dubstep music.

Oh you don't.

No.

I need money.

God.

Huh.

I need money.

Okay. How much.

Like $20,000,000

Like twenty-million dollars.

Yes.

Ok.

Really?!

Sure!

Like US dollars

TWENTY MILLION US DOLLARS?! ARE YOU CRAZY?!

You know know I am!

FINE— but you know what?!

Fine?! Wait—really?! What?!

Ask Satan first—see what he says.

WHAT! Why would I ask Satan about anything?!

He knows lots of things.

NO!

Just ask him.

NO! I hate that guy!

Why?!

Cause he's Satan!

Fair.

It's not fair. People worship him.

Just ask him.

Why?!

Because. That way you get FORTY Million Dollars.

What!

20 from me—and $20 from him—

What the fuck! God!

—But! He's going to want a favor.

I ain't doing Satan any favors!

—just ask him; he'll do it—I'll handle the favor.

What the fuck…

Whatever he asks you to do, just come and tell me; I'll take care of it—

Take care of what?

We'll see. Then I'll give you twenty million dollars.

US Dollars?!

Are you sure you don't want KWD?

What is that?!

Too late! USD!

—AGH!

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

WHY IS IT ALWAYS CHRISTMAS?!

BEcause, you're in a movie.

WHAT.

You're stuck in a Hollywood movie.

The Master Sorcerer

Of the Grand Illusion

You just want it so bad

You don't know what you're in for

Inquenchable Thirst for knowledge

Insatiable Sexual Appetite

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I'm lost somewhere, gone

HIppopatamus

feeling quite off in the galaxies,

galavanting

Gazing at Daisies

Aces and spades

Gone from Heaven to Hades for days

On the A–

Adjacent

Recently dismantling adjectives,

Lampshades and matching curtains

God it hurts, every day that I think about you;

But how can i be about you when

You don't even see me, do you

Signature consignments,

Wrong environments and irony is,

I wasn't invited–

–but invented it

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

“That's not fair, Dillon Francis”, I thought to myself—the next day was April first, and though I had explicitly tried to forget it was my birthday, 30 years of it being so had become ingrained into my psyche; though I hadn't been able to sleep until around 3 in the morning, I had still gone to be without thinking it, the dread of the looming midnight hour crouching upon my spinal chord, as I angrily skittered about my room—I had been personally offended—I felt I was being so harshly disrespected, having waited a hefty amount of what could have been valuable alone time without my roommate's presence to bother me—and though I had at least once gotten great deal of work done shutting her out with Ableton, i lately hadn't even the slightest energy, a frazzled focus, and an inability to settle into understanding what exactly I would have to do for money to get by in the worlds I was either living in or teetering between, neither of which I could decide—while something in me did indeed feel alive, I still felt the nuisance of death ever present in my daily happenings—still suprised I was in New York City, still suprised I was alive at all, and still hyper aware that I had somehow built this masterful and synchronization chaos somewhere in the limetless expanse of time and space, both utterly also my rapidly expanding and collapsing cosmic creations.

April 1st first and foremost had levitated—initially hard to forget, as it had been of course after the last actual birthday I had specifically celebrated—a birthday I still had implicitly vivid memories of, and even the remninces of something which had at first seemed unimportant and vague, but increasingly became—especially up to now—extremely important memories, decoded messages unraveled in the wake of all the meticulously moving parts of the ever endless dues Ex machina, though something or another did seem to be coming to a closing of sorts.

It was supposed to be an uneventful and unremarkable day, which meant that I was to do nothing discuss in particular for my birthday at all—however, the remarkable coincidence of sorts that on this day, i had run out of all my protein powder, maca, super greens—and even of course—the only thing that the shelter served that I would eat—the “free bananas”—were gone—of course, I had been taking between 8 and twelve at a time and sometimes even up to 20 at once, having run out of money on my food stamps and having even dwindled down my cash assistance trying to stay afloat, it had strangely become obvious somewhere in my soul that I preferred large amount of time to the small amounts of money I would recurve from working a job I didn't want, and though there were jobs I perhaps did want and liked the idea of working, I hadn't yet to focus to wrap my mind around filling out the applications, which I hated even the thought of—the monotony of low-end job searching had become quite painful enough in fact that it felt wrong.

Our birthdays last a year--

Woah--thats awesome--!

--and they're miserable.

GOD.

Happy Birthday, tomorrow

I love you today

—I love you asleep

—I love you awake

And when you wake up, the first thing I'll say is Happiest, Happiest Happy Birthday

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Would the doctor make a house call

Or 10

Would he do it again

To anyone who may just let him in

Well it depends,

On if the doctor is even in

Do you have a pen?

Or pencil it in

He'll fill your prescription

When his bender ends

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

A little birdie told me

This morning

He used to be

Madly in love with me

Madly in love

In his last life—

But died, in a bike ride

And asked for a new life

As an Angel

Who takes flight,

And lights up the sky

With nice bright

White light

Alright, Goliath, Goodbye

I'm still here,

Stuck in my old name,

Still here,

Stuck in all the pain you gave me

Jesus, Save me,

Here's Goliath, David;

See if you can be the savior—

Every day I pray

“Amen,”

I hate men,

I'm crazy,

And I'm still here,

Training to make weight

Don't you know,

You go nowhere without your trainer

Hey!

The flights delayed,

You need a name?

You need a savior, baby.

Something's not okay

Oh!

Don't you know, that every day you wait

You'll just be stuck inside your name

You'll be here waiting, praying

“Jesus save me, Amen”

Jesus raves,

And Jesus changed his name,

Escaping from the prayers

Don't hate the player, hate the game

Don't hate the player, hate the game

Don't hate the prayer, hate the players

Everything's the same—

Everything you gave me makes me angry—

Hey,

Wake up!

Don't you know,

You go nowhere without your trainer

Hey!

The flights delayed,

You need a name?

You need a savior, baby.

Something's not okay

Oh!

Don't you know, that every day you wait

You'll just be stuck inside your name

You'll be here waiting, praying

“Jesus save me, Amen”

Jesus raves,

And Jesus changed his name,

Escaping from the prayers

Hey,

Wake up!

I'm still here,

Stuck in my old name,

Still here,

Stuck in all the pain you gave me

Jesus, Save me.

All it takes is courage

“It never hurts to bleed”, she said

She's right, though, isn't she?

Children say the darndest things

They're honest, at least

I'll be honest, I need something

I need to be happy

My problem is money

I don't even want any

I'm just high quality

Living in poverty

I'm so sick of society

I might as well die

If I diet just right,

Maybe someone will like me

Maybe, he's being polite

I wish I was lighter

I I wish I was light skinned

I bought a lighter,

And later I burned it

There's nothing wrong with me

I don't like working, it doesn't work for me

I can do service but give me some space to breathe

Greedy people need me

So they can be lazy

Okay, then

I'm so taken advantage of,

By everyone

I wonder what I must have done

(I wonder what I must have done)

I am so critically crucial, to be used

That I'm used up,

And used to it

I hate this slavery shit

I should just end it

Cause everybody's down with it

Nobody wants to speak up

When I do I sound crazy;

My fingers move a mile a minute,

But I look lazy,

Cause I have a hard time spending my days with Becky

Who I have to respect, I guess

Cause she gets a bigger paycheck

Amen

This is great.

I woke up today, not naked,

But in the pajamas I felt the most hot in

I've lost it

Get me off this planet

Get me off

Then get me off this

Maybe fake eyelashes and lips will do the trick

Another magic trick;

Now I've just been passed to Dillon Francis;

It's blaring through the walls of my apartment,

But in the other end

My studio is silent

I'm just crying,

Trying not to think about dying so violently

But the thoughts and the feelings are so rapidly occurring

I've finally been remembering the last time I was cursed into the worst thing I could ever wish:

Nobody knows me

Nobody loves me

Nobody needs me

Why wish these things?

I'm not a happy ending:

I'm the martyr in this story

So just kill me.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

" I DID MY BEST!" - Dane Cook

"I did my best!"

-Dane Cook

A little birdie told me

This morning

He used to be

Madly in love with me

Madly in love

In his last life—

But died, in a bike ride

And asked for a new life

As an Angel

Who takes flight,

And lights up the sky

With nice bright

White light

Alright, Goliath, Goodbye

I'm still here,

Stuck in my old name,

Still here,

Stuck in all the pain you gave me

Jesus, Save me,

Here's Goliath, David;

See if you can be the savior—

Every day I pray

“Amen,”

I hate men,

I'm crazy,

And I'm still here,

Training to make weight

Don't you know,

You go nowhere without your trainer

Hey!

The flights delayed,

You need a name?

You need a savior, baby.

Something's not okay

Oh!

Don't you know, that every day you wait

You'll just be stuck inside your name

You'll be here waiting, praying

“Jesus save me, Amen”

Jesus raves,

And Jesus changed his name,

Escaping from the prayers

Don't hate the player, hate the game

Don't hate the player, hate the game

Don't hate the prayer, hate the players

Everything's the same—

Everything you gave me makes me angry—

Hey,

Wake up!

Don't you know,

You go nowhere without your trainer

Hey!

The flights delayed,

You need a name?

You need a savior, baby.

Something's not okay

Oh!

Don't you know, that every day you wait

You'll just be stuck inside your name

You'll be here waiting, praying

“Jesus save me, Amen”

Jesus raves,

And Jesus changed his name,

Escaping from the prayers

Hey,

Wake up!

I'm still here,

Stuck in my old name,

Still here,

Stuck in all the pain you gave me

Jesus, Save me.

All it takes is courage

“It never hurts to bleed”, she said

She's right, though, isn't she?

Children say the darndest things

They're honest, at least

I'll be honest, I need something

I need to be happy

My problem is money

I don't even want any

I'm just high quality

Living in poverty

I'm so sick of society

I might as well die

If I diet just right,

Maybe someone will like me

Maybe, he's being polite

I wish I was lighter

I I wish I was light skinned

I bought a lighter,

And later I burned it

There's nothing wrong with me

I don't like working, it doesn't work for me

I can do service but give me some space to breathe

Greedy people need me

So they can be lazy

Okay, then

I'm so taken advantage of,

By everyone

I wonder what I must have done

(I wonder what I must have done)

I am so critically crucial, to be used

That I'm used up,

And used to it

I hate this slavery shit

I should just end it

Cause everybody's down with it

Nobody wants to speak up

When I do I sound crazy;

My fingers move a mile a minute,

But I look lazy,

Cause I have a hard time spending my days with Becky

Who I have to respect, I guess

Cause she gets a bigger paycheck

Amen

This is great.

I woke up today, not naked,

But in the pajamas I felt the most hot in

I've lost it

Get me off this planet

Get me off

Then get me off this

Maybe fake eyelashes and lips will do the trick

Another magic trick;

Now I've just been passed to Dillon Francis;

It's blaring through the walls of my apartment,

But in the other end

My studio is silent

I'm just crying,

Trying not to think about dying so violently

But the thoughts and the feelings are so rapidly occurring

I've finally been remembering the last time I was cursed into the worst thing I could ever wish:

Nobody knows me

Nobody loves me

Nobody needs me

Why wish these things?

I'm not a happy ending:

I'm the martyr in this story

So just kill me.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.