The Secret Life Of Sunnï Blū

M4MXS III: ‘complications.' IV - [P Ï Z Z Δ. ]

I am in love with you–

Oh no!

Not again!

What will we do about this?

I'm afraid–

Don't be afraid…

There's nothing left to do, sire.

This is disastrous…

We must let the romance run its course.

“Self Fulfilling Prophecies”

C'esme't! –You've brough a friend...

Your Majesty–

Who's this?

My sage.

Ah, I see.

An honor, your highness

–Not my choice–

To finally meet you.

Ah. You as well.

I offer protection, your majesty, as Her Highness is unfamiliar to your realm.

I'm familiar enough.

C'esme't–be kind.

For what?

Pleasure to meet you, as well–uhm–

Sage.

Ehm–Sage–the Sage?

Yessir.

One who neednt be called neednt a name…

Ah, well, it is with great honor that I welcome you both to my Kingdom.

How very chivalrous.

It's my nature.

Ugh, I'm going to be sick.

The indian fare from one of my new favorite restaurants, not that I had tried many, was hitting the spot– but my stomach began to unsettle, as I thought about the massive attack of sensory overload I was getting, which seemed to be coming from all angles–

“God, he's so handsome…” of course, i had been trying not to think about it, but something deep inside of me didn't miss a beat when it came to hunting down new music that I needed–and even older records that I needed to catch up in collecting, which indeed had led me to a

WHAT! THIS DIMENSION HAS A SPY KIDS 4?!

Are you serious?

Come on, pick your heart up off the floor, now.'

As the sun rises over Manhattan,

My mind races to the past,

A complex misunderstanding–

A phenomenon, at best–

The most profound and circumstantial

Quiet, lost conundrum;

To th eye, an Idol

This,

A childhood obsession.

“I guess that's a start”

His folder would be one of the smallest, of course, especially once compared to that of Skrillex, Dillon Francis, or even, remarkably so, Jimmy Fallon's –if I could ever wrap my mind around attempting to organize The Festival Project from what it was into anything palpable–and it very much wasn't. It didn't entirely make sense at all to anyone but myself, or at the very least I thought it didn't, though however some seemed to be at least listening to the series, strangely enough, it still had no real foundation or true platform.

‘The way his energy moves inside of his body…'

It was a repetitive thought, my obasesions becoming conglomerate, probably even moreso exacerbated by the awful long bout of celibacy, as I also to have reached my sexual peak–it wasn't fair, but it was at the very least a learning experience–however unwelcome–and my wants and needs seemed to be rather specific, which I hated.

Ooh, Boss Fight.

Nice.

Please Help Me.

No.

I don't know where i”m going.

Okay.

OKAY?! i'M NOT OKAY.

I don't care.

AGH.

Oh great, which God is this?

Idk.

Hey, what's your name again?

Axis.

GOsh, what an InSpIRAtIoN

I'm addicted to Crack Cocaine.

Ok. What else do you want to do?

If you go through this portal, something on the other side is going to kill you.

Fine! I'm ready to die!

Hi.

Hi.

I JUST WANT TO GET HIGH AND MAKE LOVE TO YOU WITH MY SOCKS ON.

I wish i never saw this.

HUh. What happened.

WIll you eat thiss?

NO!

Will you eat this–for one million dollars?

YES.

I can't believe your mom sold you into slavery.

IT'S OK. I LIKE IT.

Uhhh .

Now, i'm going to ask you something.

Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I can't fall for this again—

Another rich and handsome man—

A dream he wants to be my friend

A dream he wants to hold my hand

Oh look,

Another dance for anthem

Look,

I'm just another fan

No, I can't fall for this again

—but they would go against the plan

A simple programming error,

Lips the color of a pomagranite

Circle on the palm,

And then , of course,

We press the center

And look, here we are again

Another life,

Another love

A new wife—

Another husband

Honest?

I'm just good with fucking

—aha

I just want to fuck you

I got love, but what it good for

Look at me, or look at nothing!

Look,

I'm just good with fucking

Check the news for new engagements

Fucking sick and fucking tragic

Nothing more than actors,

DJs, drinks and addicts

Look,

I'm just a happy accident—

I still hate Dillon Francis

And I never wanted Skrillex:

That shit never even happened!

Have you had enough yet?!

Carrot cake does sound good

Ten karat long engagement ring—

Is that a lot?

I'm just a homeless

Look, I'm just another DJ

Some fake model stole it

Some would call it occult Magic

—honest?

I just want some dick, man

Fuck it

—aha

I just want to fuck you

I got love, but what it good for

Look at me, or look at nothing!

Look,

I'm just good with fucking

You know why you like me?!

Yes, I know why I like you—

Cause I'm rich!

—no, actually—it's because you're smart.

Where in the fuck are you going?

I don't know yet.

Well, know faster—we have company.

Fuck.

Destroy every bit of evidence.

Ok.

—and make sure nobody sees you.

Yeah, right!

YO.

Why the fuck are you here, Timmy?

I told you, I'm not Timmy.

I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money?

It's— it's on the way, I promise.

I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy.

What do you take well to?

Money.

FUCK.

What!

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!

What?!

We're too late, she's gone!

Goddammit.

—She was already here!

FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK!

>>> FUCK!

How do you know?

—there's glitter, everywhere.

Is it gone?

It's gone?

ALL OF IT.

TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX.

Etto, Timmy?!

Oh shit, another Timmy.

That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex.

Why.

Timmy, put a shirt on.

That's it.

What.

You can't be hot and play the trumpet.

Why.

One thing's gotta go.

THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet.

WHAT.

Can't have both.

Well, I don't really need both now, do I?

When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5

—something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space.

I don't know.

I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5.

Almost.

But, I noticed—

Working out to deadmau5 is strange.

It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me—

Not just notice me.

People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing.

And it's usually something regular as fuck—

I'm just doing it to deadmau5.

And for some reason, people are like

“Wooooow!!”

Okay, whatever.

I used to work out to Skrillex.

Actually.

I used to work out to only Skrillex.

I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex.

Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine.

I started to figure out I was kind of famou—

Kind of—

When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on

I'm like

“This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials”

But hey,

You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for.

It's very hard.

The crazy thing about this story is—

There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually.

EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY.

Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin—

Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts”

Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot!

So?!

So I know you got it goin on! Look at you!

I'm mad rich!

Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes.

My girlfriend might be cheating on me!

Yeah—She's not, though.

How do you know?

Cause I tried!

Yeah. Take your shirt off.

No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you!

Because! He tried—

HE tried!

You sell out.

And Andre tried—

[ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome]

—you too, bro?

[ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly]

That's an NBA player—

What the FUCK, YO.

—and she said NO.

ANDRE

Yup. Shot me down.

Oh really—from all the way up there?!

Face it, man! You're fuckin hot!

I don't like the way that sounds coming from you—

Take your shirt off!

Were you this aggressive with my girl?!

Don't be like that…

Nah— fuck you!

Yo! C'mon, man—

And you three!

You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood!

It's Beverly Hills!

—Exactly my point!

You're new here—you'll catch on.

You know what!

I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on.

[SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”]

Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I just want to have sex with you.

At this point, I don't want anything else— but know this, even the most simple, natural, animalistic thing is unattainable—

I'm not even successful enough to know you—

Or beautiful enough—

Or rich enough—

Or whatever it is that gets to sit in that seat next to you—

I'm not enough.

So whatever it is—

Whatever energy won't leave my body—

The racing and obsessive thoughts about you—

The surges of lust and passion through my body—

Wanting you and only you

Needing you and only you

That feeling that no one else will ever measure up — because no one else will ever measure up

I hate it—

And I'm upset as fuck.

Shabbat after sunset II

A spell starts working the very moment you decide to do it.

It works well when you know and understand its direct and exact intention

SHIA LABEOUF and SUNNI BLŪ are easily Hollywood's most obnoxious and cringeworthy couple.

Nothings more cringeworthy than this, though.

SUPACREE and DIPLO go PUBLIC,

Ewwww.

They are gross.

They're so gross.

Ugh.

Okay. We gotta find Skrillex and get back to the dimension where that whole first storyline-

What guest storyline

SCARY MONSTERS AND—

You're not real!

I am real.

No! Go away.

I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

Get out!

Ok.

You're just a character in my book mothafucka!

Peru firebox fml

AH! THANK MADONNA!

Lol

Tongue in cheek we are—

Around the way we go,

To a place we only know

In my body, in my soul

I should have let out before I left but

Ain't nobody got time for that

I

Just recently learned what a New York minute is—

I don't like minute men,

But I like miniatures

It was the strangest thing—

Just the day,

And the thought of the man,

Had me swoon and nearly fall in love again

Wonder what had become of him,

And remembered for a moment

What love is

I had the rest of Renaissance to finish my quick set—which was only a few songs away— and at least I had made it t had made it to the gym, I thought — but suddenly, or maybe even not so, I was haunted by residual sex dreams of Dillon Frances, tememberqnces of Jon Sennet, and all the things I had said and done up to that point, which had led me to a point of absolute and udder confusion, withdrawal and detest hem t from everything I had learned about reality- at an accelerated pace—

The irony of it was, I was hopping to beyoncè Shazaming what sounded like a familiar friend in death, Kurt Cobain, or at least I thought, and taking everything I could for aampling purposes? If not just for sheer enjoyment—

“You could write a book about me”

Jon had one piped

“Don't” , he followed.

And for years, I listened, unknowing that the collections of poetry, early additions to my song catalogue, and entries in my very intimate auto-biographical timeline would culminate someday to be alone books themselves, let alone entries into the festival project, which now coveted the expanse of what was surely several books, thousands of songs, and an endless collection of poetry that had yet to pay off, but perhaps one day would, even after my death—which I was sure was presently, as nothing seemed at all as it had been before—

Skip to the

Whatever.

Pressed for time

My expressions repressed

Overused phrases

And yet,

I still mean them

How many cases of Fiji water did beyoncè sell in one like?

Did we ever connect those timelines?

Lol no.

Well, I'm not racist.

Are you sure.

No!

GROWLS.

—but my dragon is.

Oh shit.

I don't need hair but a knee brace

Don't make that face at me

Cause you want it that way

Yeah

You wanted it that way

SONNY MOORE ends up in BEYONCE's body after an attempt to finally recapture the original SUPACREE is thwarted.

Lol she's a good actress, I know she can play this.

Sense memory

To the end of the world and back witb you,

To

Right back where we started,

Just a little bit further out

And a little bit better off

Still not where we belong,

Still too far gone from what we thought we all deserved

And still,

And yet,

And here we are

Another Random Album

Oh my God

Don't let the tears fall, now

You're just a sore spot in my body

That I need to work out

And I don't know how it got so bad

That I haven't a care in the world to be had

Or a friend,

But I sure do miss my class

My passenger

Nah, it can't be,

That dreams mean anything

Listen,

I talked to the cat,

Quite candidly,

She was fantastic,

Had a knack for making me laugh

Oh wsnna okay good and robbers huh

Nah hon

I wanna play rockstars and movie stars

Stick cats

Stocks and bond

Shop o.Lb wakstreet insyead of Walmart

If that's what money does

Calm down,

It's just a jamizame

Thought I was gone,

But I just nodded off some

I thought you wanted all of nothing

Want the dodgers,

But the Boston. Socks won,

I want all the love you've got

And God forgot

Let season 7 commence,

Timmy turners in over his head

His orherchakf

In another dimension

A dead beat dad

But only because of this

STAY DOWN, TIMMY.

SUNNI BLU is a drug lord and well known king pen

Oh, the eloquence of ignorance,

Exerting his power over me

(From behind)

And he knows I like it

He knows I like it

And he knows I don't have time for this

No need for distractions

It's just an itch I need to scratch

And it's just an attraction

A fatal attraction

YO, FUCK DILKON FRAMCIZ

Sunni, you're drunk—again.

I DONT GIVR A FUCK.

I hopped the wrong bus

To far Rockaway

With my heart in my pocket

And a cop on my conscious

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

AN EXPERIMENT WITH LIVES

Date: June 21, 1981, Sunday, Late City Final Edition Section 7; Page 9, Column 1; Book Review Desk

Byline: By H. JACK GEIGER; H. Jack Geiger, M.D., is Logan Professor of Community Medicine, School of Biomedical Education, City College, City University of New York.

Lead:

BAD BLOOD The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment. By James H. Jones. Illustrated. 272 pp. New York: The Free Press. $14.95.

''BAD BLOOD'' is the anatomy of a long nightmare - a particularly American episode in the treatment of black people. Some of the sentiments that inspired this horror, which ended a mere nine years ago, have an awful familiarity, and ''Bad Blood'' is as contemporary in its implications as yesterday's Medicaid rollbacks, today's food stamp cuts or tomorrow's definitions of the truly needy. ''Bad Blood'' is more than mere history: As an authentic, exquisitely detailed case study of the consequences of race in American life, it should be read by everyone who worries about the racial

V.O.

Sure,

Sometimes my body's at a party—

Being deadmau5.

DEADMAU5 is playing at a popular venue.

But I'd honestly rather be doing something much more instetesting— by far.

-SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED-

NICE.

[ACROBATICS]

+10 AGILITY

+10 STEALTH

+10 HP

[BIRDIE returns to the nest after a long day to discover her husband has accidentally cracked their one and only egg.

aww, I love this one.

Apparently it's Disney/Pixar.

You don't say.

No, I don't.

I just had to rush home! I had a feeling something was just terribly wrong

Birdie.

But now that I'm here I see that everything is ok!

Birdie—

Everything is good. The next is clean — the dinner'a on-/ the egg is cracked—

—the egg is cracked…

THE EGG IS CRACKED?!

—yes.

WHY?! WHAT HAPPENED?!

Nothing “happened”, it was an accident…

What do you mean nothing happened?! Something had to happen! The egg is cracked!

Birdie, it's okay—

It's not okay! The egg is cracked! What if it doesn't hatch!

It will hatch!

But what if it doesn't?!

It will! I promise!

Just stick a fork in me,

Cause I'm done

No more pork soda love

Learning curves,

Words that turn to verses, curses, or courses

This mental collision is

Keeping me driven

Isn't it ironic,

That they're saying I'm an icon,

But I'm living at the radiation

You're living on a comet

I couldn't write a comic,

Or a saga, all to star in it

When all I really wanted was a family to watch it with

From end to beginning

From end to beginning

From end to beginning

I don't want to die yet

I haven't even figured out why Johnny DEPP

And Ellen Degeneres are interested in incepting my adolescent visions

I don't want to diet

My mission was getting Skinny for Skrillex,

But it's winter here and this dinners clearly as hot as I'm gonna get,

What did you see in there?

see in where?

*squints* You know where.

I don't know .

TELL US WHAT YOU SAW.

*ragdoll*

What the fuck.

*turns into snake; slithers away quickly.*

*deflates heavily*

That's It! I'm gonna die like this!

Welp, I've had enough for today.

Nope,

Ooh, what's in here.

Nothing.

Oooohhh.

I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH.

It's never enough–

(Never enough)

IT's Never enough

(Never enough)

Never

ENOUGH.

That's it. I can't do this anymore. I quit.

You can't quit.

I quit. I quit.

That's –

I FUCKING QUIT.

No, dude, you're fucking fired.

I QUIT FIRST

“The Longest Hour”

What did fame cost? What would it take? What was I missing? And of course—

‘How do I get there?'

I needed to know.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I hate country music

You know why?

You all sound like slave owners.

Yup.

Country music just sounds racist,

Well, it is racist.

Even that shit was stolen—

Country music is derived from the songs slaveowners used to steal from their slaves x

Yes.

I'm a sovereign submissive,

A subtle subordinate

Look at wrist

Warm winds, SZA

First stop,

AH, fuck—

Well, check this out

No such thing as free.

No such thing as freedom, either

“Just take what you need”

Just tear me to pieces,

Jesus

All we need is

A little relief I'm this bitch

All we need is

A new release, maybe an EP or three

Make sure that s/hesees this

Do you need me?

Do you need this?

Please check your subscriptions

Or your email

Please, pick up this new prescription

Fuck dude! I can't just listen to deadmau5 in peace?

I gotta do at least three things at once,

But right now, I need to focus on crunches

Let's not get wasted tonight, eh.

Let's go and be racist—-

I forget what the name of the game is

It's

“USA!

USA!

USA!”

The fucked up thing was , the preworkout and the Skrillex hit at just about the same time.

Oh, just about?

The exact same time.

Okay, first of all, this is pre-war Skrillex.

It's also Diplo!

It's also Diplo—yeah.

Don't be too proud of yourself

NO CRYING IN THE SAUNA.

But this is where I cryy!

DO NOT CRY.

Oh.

*sniffles*

Now…

You know what happens if you don't cum?

Uhhh…nothing?

Exactly. You know what happens if I don't cum?

What.

My balls explode.

Just make sure they're in my mouth when that happens.

Wow.

I don't belong here!

Well, where do you belong?

I don't know.

@99@c

Look, I have a favor.

What is it.

ANo.

Oh, come on!

NO.

NO.

Please!

I need you to be my girlfriend.

Lol. For what?

I don't know.

How much is he paying you?

Like a kajillion dollars.

That seems fair.

His isn't fair. They're using Skrillex to provoke me.

Come earlier tomorrow!

Or just, don't come.

Don't go!

DONT—GO.

I am leaving!

NO!

Yes!

No!

—and I am never coming back.

Do you know who your audience is?

Uh.

The CIA

THE FBI

Everyone in The Oval Office.

BIDEN

nice.

The UN.

THe DEA

The Secret Service.

The office of Public Affairs

Uhhh…

Keith Richards

Allison Cooper

Sirs Elton John and Paul McCartney, Respectively

What—for what?!

The President of NBC

CBS

ACC

fox 5, 10, and 13

That's really random.

Al Jazeera,

al Sharpton

And Al Bundy

Wait—what

Oh, did you just mean, like in this dimension?

Uhhh..

This is enter the multiverse

YeH

WHWRE IS SKRILLEX

He died. He's dead. Go away.

That's like 3 Skrillex songs already

You guys are gonna wake up the devil.

What.

Stop doing that.

Stop doing what.

You know what you're doing.

You're summoning the devil

What are you guys doing?

Summoning the devil.

In my basement?

Yes.

Okay. Have fun.

Dang, she's so cool.

I like her.

I love her.

What are they up to down there?

Summoning the devil.

Oh.

Cui bono—

For whose good or benefit

LIL BIIIIIIIITZZZ.

I think we can all agree the cringiest trend ever is the crocs trend.

The insignia of fucking laziness.

I don't care who you are— if I see you wearing fucking crocs I'm going to assume you're stupid; one, cause you follow what everyone else around you is doing--and two because you think it looks acceptable. It looks dumb.

It looks stupid

“But they're comfortable.

You know what?

There are other comfortable shoes that are more functional—

I wear nikes. They're slip ons, no laces— they're cozy as shit

And you know what?

I can outrun a dog if it's chasing me, trying to bite my ass.

This trend is horrible.

And you know what?

It's gotten so bad to the point where, if I see someone wearing crocs, and they've actually got the sling on—I respect them for it!

Not all the way, but a little more.

Like hey—you tried. You tried today.

But the fucking crocs the sling over the top—

You're fucking lazy.

I don't give a fuck what kind of job you work—

There's no excuse for fucking lazy.

Clean up after yourself!

Do your dishes!

Wash your ass!

Put shoes on!

—Real fucking shoes!

Unless you're an actual like, nurse or 87 years old, crocs are not acceptable!

I don't care!

People are lazy now.

“Tales of a Superstar DJ”

“Strange Dream5”

I had been been having very strange dreams and a lot of them happened to have been starring Kurt Sutter which I found strange— but I had been writing a lot lately, which didn't explain anything about Charlie Hunnam also having appeared, or Reese Witherspoon—or Dakota Fanning…and though I was no longer having to listen to deadmau5 just to sleep his counterpart had started appearing on very vivid dreams—which I did not necessarily have to write down to remember, at all, however—this one was surprisingly strange, rather hilarious, and not at all explicit. I awoke craving barbecue ribs and scraping my head, wondering what I might need to do today to move forward and progress…but I was at a loss, for words, at least—but certainly not for music.

There was a gathering at Kurt (and Katey's) house celebrating some show or something—there was a big party with dinner and deadmau5 was playing; when deadmau5 came out and hopped on the mic nobody could hear him—the mic wasn't connected—his helmet was also much different, it looked like some sort of ancient incan mouse head carved from stone (but obviously not stone-/ which was rectangular and had green lights for the eyes and mouth—I questioned whether or not it was really Joel and looked at his arms to confirm that it was using his tattoos—I was excited to hear deadmau5–it was an intimate gathering so we were all situated around the decks—Katey (Segal) went up to the decks and adjusted a chord which looked like a jumper cable and the mic turned on, and I thought “aww, thanks, mom” —then someone—either Kurt or Katey went to the other side and plugged the mic all the way in so we could hear Joel over the mic. He played an anthem sounding song and I thought “nice, new deadmau5 “, but the song sounded old, like pre-2010 deadmau5; either way, I was just happy to listen to new deadmau5. I got on the floor in front of the decks and put my arms behind mu head to rest, then crossed my legs in the shape of a figure-eight and thought “ah, the way I always listen to deadmau5, anyway” (—which is not true…but perhaps I just meant laying on my back? Idk.) I rocked to the music like a pendulum and faded away in my mind—I didn't seem to think it was strange and neither did anyone else; it felt normal. after the show while everybody was eating (I think it was barbecue/soul food) Joel went to smoke a cigarette and indicated I should follow him—which I was weary of, but I did; he went quickly down the 3rd out of 4 stair cases; and I mistakenly went down the second—I realized my mistake and peered at him through the bars; the staircases (which were apparently the entry/exit to Kurt Sutter's house was like the lower level of a pyramid which seemed Mayan or Incan in style; I went down the 3rd staircase and did not see Joel, so went all the way to the bottom and climbed up another set of stairs, frustrated. “Kurt sutter has the worst house ever!” I said or thought, as I approached Joel at the top of another staircase, which was half the length of the others; it appeared I had somehow ended up on the other side—he sat in an opening that was colorful, though the paint was wearing, and moved himself from a colorful patch and said “ew, orange!” I sat on the wall next to him trying not to look at him and he made me so nervous (not because he was famous, but because I found him to be cute; we actually both seemed to be famous throughout the whole dream—as there were other famous people at Kurt and Katey's gathering, which included Charlie hunnam and many cast members from sons of anarchy, who were all shirtless.) anywho. I sat next to Joel and looked up at him; he seemed so tall and as if his head was in a plastic fish bowl, with masking tape at the bottom; I looked down and there were a pair of white baby crocs wrapped individually in plastic— I said “aww”, because they were baby sized—but then “yugh!” And kicked them away, Joel was like “why???” And I said “because they're crocs,” then we had a really weird conversation about the the rubber seal on a bottle of baby soap (that doesn't exist) and the dollar store that didn't make any sense at all—something about using the rubber seal to escape and swim to the other side—but then having to swim back anyway because you forgot something at the dollar store. It did not make sense—at all—but we both agreed that we loved the dollar store for whatever reason. “Joel,” I asked “can I ask you a question?” “Sure”, he said “what's it like to have done what you've done with your music—I mean really.” That's not what I wanted to ask; it was a cover question and he seemed to know it “no.” He said. “Why?” I asked, and he responded “because I'm going to ask you something.” I said “okay…l and I wanted to know what— but I was quiet. “I always go first” he said, slipping off his blue cotton boxers without taking off his shorts—which was impressive. “Okay.” Then, a strange dark skinned boy— approached us, first stopping at Joel, and kissing his hand—then coming to me—the boy had an Afro and was dressed in some tribal getup, and had heavy metal snake earrings, which I didn't like—when he went to kiss my hand, he opened his mouth to bite me instead—I pulled my arm away, which I realized had been covered in some kind of lavish warrior's attire, a colorful arm band that went all the way up my arm; “I'm not gonna fight you!” I said, and as I tried to kick him away the boy reached for my foot to bite it, and I thought “now I'll have a bite mark to match the one on my hand…” but didn't want to be bitten again, so as I kicked him, I suddenly realized I was in a dream, and that Joel was still beside me, but fading away—I was waking up. Joel…Joel…Joel…!!!”, before “FUCK.” I wanted to know what Joel was going to ask, but was suddenly awake, my foot still pointed and stretched as if I were going to kick; I could still feel the imprint of his mouth on my right foot and as I awoke. “Goddammit!” I thought, reaching for my phone to begin to write, and becoming overtaken by the baseline of a song I couldn't quite recall, looping at first in the back, and then, in the front of my mind—-

“Hm.” , I thought. Now I was very awake—I rested my foot to a normal position.

“WHAT THE FUCK.” I thought. I very rarely dreamt about Joel (and never about deadmau5) but it was a very strange dream. There was nothing sexual about it—and I indeed seemed more impressed that he had taken off his boxers than anything under them, without taking off his basketball shorts—and, as I reflected—it was weird that he was wearing basketball shorts.

“What a weird fucking dream.” I was certainly more calm inside the dream, but now, upon waking, was confused, alightly nervous, and very angry at the dark skinned Afro boy for trying to fight and bite me—which of course, reminded me of the fight with my roommate weeks earlier, from which I still did have the half-moon shaped bite marks, even after all that time—and it was, strangely enough a half-Moon outside. The baseline rolled on and became louder in my mind, reaching full form—

“This is the Hook.”

‘Oh, yeah…' I thought.

‘It's catchy. You like it.'

“Yeah.” I thought. “Okay.”

“I guess we'll start there.”

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

It's weird shopping for sex toys to Miley Cyrus in one ear and deadmau5 in the other.

I don't know how to feel

I definitely don't feel okay.

I'm not okay.

Where the fuck is sunni?

I don't know

Well, call him.

Phone rings

Uh—hello.

Where are you?!

I'm doing meth in your bathroom.

Oh, come on.

[toilet flushes] sunni appears from inside the bathroom

I'm just kidding.

What the fuck, man—

It's just coke.

—Of course.

You want some?

I—no.

Yes you do.

How did you get into my house?

*snifs* With the remote

You stole the remote control out of my car?!

No!

—?!

I duplicated it.

“LIL BITZZZZ”

I guess I'm a few of these dimensions, I'm a stand up comedian.

INT. COMESY CLUB. NIGHT

This probably isn't fair, it

Every time I see a belligerently drunk person,

I think of Skrillex—

Or Sonny.

Whatever.

It is what it is.

Probably not fair,

But every time I see a tiny, angry, drunken man

I'm like:

“Lol, here he comes”

Lol I think that's just his spirit.

“The Spirit of Skrillex”

Lol what kind of fucked up cruise ship is that.

TICKETS ON SALE NOW:

“CLICK.” Done. I'm in VIP. See you there.

Lol

You would think it's like HOLY SHIP or EDSea but it's high key Titanic II

Set sail!

THIS IS ONLY FUNNY TO EDM FANS.

It's probably not even funny to them. Skrillex fans are the equivilant of Taylor Swift fans, but more violent.

You can't say bad shit about Skrillex. He's too respected in the industry.

Why do you think that is.

Idk. Master hypnotist—mass mind control expert. Huge dingaling—you name it.

I'd rather not.

RYAN

SUPACREE!

No—Kaskade! No.

RYAN

ITS NOT KASKADE! It's just me! RYAN!

Hm.

Supacree—

Where's Kaskade?

I don't know!

And why isn't he with you—?

That guy's going to kill me!

I believe that.

I need your help!

Uh— no.

Please!

Hm.

…

…

Ok. Where's Joel?

We don't know.

We?!

DEADMAU5 Enters rapidly.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Oh, Heavenly Father!

I prefer “neither”.

Deadmau5!

Obviously.

Where's your controller?

…

Well. Where's Skrillex?

SUPACREE

FUCK.

RYAN

Darn it.

#ALTEREGOS

L E G E N D S

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

It's him again.

Oh, it's you again.

Yeah. And I wore long socks just so you could suck my dick in them!

Woah!

Below the belt.

Hold up! What!

If I ever sucked your dick I'd roll those ugly motherfuckera right off, you weird sonofabitch.

Mixes for my exes

-Complications.

The ‘-complications.' mixtape compilation series which focuses its internal monologue on the ideology of exploratory existentialism, using simple and classic mixing techniques into smooth transitions which mirror synconocities in time, musical elements, and lyricism to illustrate a vortex of collisions in cosmic omniscience, theming its recurring dominant soundscapes into a singular foundational focal point, and centering its multidimensionality into a gripping pull to return its emphasis on reflecting at checkpoints as if to reiterate a greater hidden meaning; the highs and lows of falling in love, it's consequences, long days and nights, missed connections, lost and unrequited love—capturing overall the rock and roll darkness of the neo-moden dance music scene—moving about from world to world—night after night, song after song—bodies on bodies and the escapism of rave and dance floor culture, connected through the pulsating and throbbing heartbeats bridged by light waves, and spread across neon skies across the globe.

Featuring dearly beloved hit and dance classics alike from global and legendary super-artists and masters of the dance floor, deadmau5, Kaskade, kx5, Skrillex, Fred Again.., Claptone, and more—featuring new music by and mixed with heart & soul by underground swamp creature and ancient rave God ‘- Ū.' as she explores the outer realms of dance music pre-and-post existence in the guttural haze of the afterlife.

ENTER THE MULTIVERSE

Ain't no complications, baby

Make a pact,

A family, then

Abandon that for

Half an hour;

That's just grand

You stranded Lonnie Anne

How can you

Call yourself a

Man?

You can't, now

Can you, Dad?

The other batch

Of crack was

Just a task;

The plan was hatched

They traveled back

into the past

To find the answers,

Asked the questions

Half the planet

Dreamed and danced to—

What was that?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Bitch you mad?

Mad at what?

I'm still making money;

I don't give a fuck

Get my bag;

Count it up

I'm a dog—

And you know I like it rough

(Ruff ruff ruff)

Where you from?

Where you hood at?

Keep it clsssy

But I'm acting like a hood rat

I'm a playa

I got boss racks

Call me north

Cause I'm pointed where the moss at

(Money)

I am from Los Angeles

I got all these fans and stuff

I smoke on dat tangle

I be at PINK buying bras n stuff

I still shop at hollister

The Bronx ain't got no Rosses

Or hot topics

But I bought this floss

To drop it like a thot n stuff

Bitch you mad?

Mad at what?

I'm still making money;

I don't give a fuck

Get my bag;

Count it up

I'm a dog—

And you know I like it rough

(Ruff ruff ruff)

I show up

Play some ratchet music

I show up

Play some ratchet music.

In the booth I'm eating waffles.

Had to force quit my serato

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

You make me feel out of my body;

You make me feel out of my mind—

You make me feel out of this world

I feel like we've run out of time

It does get worse, you know.

What is WORSE.

The fame.

Whatever that means.

It means, at some point, the money doesn't matter.

It does matter. Cause at the end of the day you can lock yourself into a nice shiny box with nobody else to fuck you over.

But it's still a box.

Yeah, your box.

I stay offline

Fuck these motherfuckers

My time is my time

So look how filthy rich I am

Suddenly, I was constantly surrounded by toxic masculinity—starting with Luke and culminating into an all out horrible revelation—the cost of being a female, surrounded by bad weaves, fake eyelashes, and acrylic nails, the hundreds of thousands of dollars women—especially women of color, impacted by white supremacy to the extreme of buying straightened hair, hiding the locks and curls of nature, because it was presumed ugly by the man-ruled society

I popped into the stop and shop

Like put your arms up,

It's a robbery

But all I wanted was some gum

And a safe deposit box to put it in!

What?

We all make bad decisions

Bad choices

But I haven't thought bad about you just yet

Even if you're just like them

You're just like them

Music with no words,

So I can't be reminded of the hurt

And how worthless I am

And how I don't deserve you

Just tunes with no lyrics, for me, please

It's easier to listen to nothing

Than to listen to “she”

And she needs you

More than I do

Jump off the Eiffel Tower,

Just to remind you

That I fly higher next lifetime,

My idol

Don't practice idolatry

I just sit beside you and write

Look up why Lisa Vanser pump is famous

Look up nyc bartending license course/ see if there's a free program

Firefighter trainer

Lol vanderpump rules

Personal trainer cert

Ugh what else can I do for money

Lol

You can have all of em

The Annie's

The Natalie's

The can have anybody's body

But want you temporarily

For the stardom

Or the money,

Then they're off and done with ya

And I'm still wondering what's wrong with me

Cause I always wanted ya

Regardless

You smell like palo santo and shame

So you know where I've been

Deadmau5 audio engineering tricks

Put a gate on the riser

And/or

Pan the risers

I have a billion guilty pleasures

From TMZ to deadmau5

From A-Z

It's getting loud

So let me out—let me out of here

Here's a weird thing that happens.

How come some dudes wait until you fall asleep to have sex with you?

That's weird, right?

Some would call that —

Whatever it's called.

But I call it weird as fuck.

Like—

You're gonna wait until i'm all the way asleep to fuck me?

Why not ask?

—when I'm conscious!

Obviously if I'm falling asleep around you, we probably spent the entire day together or whatever- now I'm tired, I want to go to sleep.

We can't exactly call that the “r” word.

Well, it is retarded.

But the other r-word nobody likes.

We can't exactly call it that, can we? Cause it's like

Maybe I wanted to have sex-

Before I went to sleep.

But now I'm asleep!

Unless we're like actually in a relationship don't do that shit to me!

I'm asleep now! Wtf.

If you're my husband or my actual boyfriend or whatever, sure.

Then it's hot.

But if it's like the first date, or we're just hanging out or cuddling or whatever—

Don't wait until I'm literally asleep,

And then jump on top of me.

No. You fuckin creeper. That is weird.

Can't call it rape though—

Cause then rapists get mad.

And nobody likes when rapists get mad.

They won't rape you.

They'll just raise the cost of living and call it inflation.

Hm.

They'll just—

Pass a new law that makes your life harder and call it “freedom” and “justice”

Lol.

Shhh. Shut up.

I'm not worried about anyone trying to kill me

I'm a black woman.

Everyone hates us.

Even US.

Other black women are so fucked up to black women.

Nobody's going to kill me.

I'm already dead.

Residual Skrillex-

The Skrillex leftover in your head after listening to Skrillex

Man, what the fuck day is it?

Right.

Does it matter?

Nah. Nothing matter.s.

Like, at all?

Like. At all.

I had never had such horrible baby fever in my life—even trying for my son, but perhaps it was because at least then I knew I could always have one. Now, divorced and without much direction at all of how to pull myself up from the bootstraps, even though somehow micraculously I had been given the opportunity

I'd rather lemon than lavender;

I'd rather be in here than out of here

Life's Been Weird.

I've been off the map since I got here.

Where's here?

Between somewhere and nowhere's

Right between aomething and nothing.

But if nothing is the opposite of something—

What's the opposite of everything.

Couldn't be “anything”

Anything is all of it.

All of it is everything.

So, what's the opposite of Everything?

Calculating…

I've been off the map for days

Not totally off the grid;

There can't be such a thing these days.

Especially in New York City

The Big Apple

Here's the thing about an apple so big—

Some parts are rotten.

To the core?

Maybe not.

But here's something:

V.O. GOD:

Hold that thought.

BUS DRIVER

LAST STOP!

A spell starts working the moment you decide to do it—

Much in the same sense, a book can be considered read if you've already decided to read it.

It was was more than just a dream,

I fiend, I fall for you

I come to grieve,

Believe me,

Evil seeks no need—

No things, no bleeding;

Clean;

Decline to eat

And cease to be,

At least a week

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Never felt so alone1-

But got God on my shoulder

She's got art on her;

Better send him packing.

I'm not asking you for a favor

I'm not asking for anything l l

Call it a theatre or maybe insanity

Cathedral or sanctuary, actually

Maybe I'll finally be happy l l l

Be between the lines

Can't imagine what I'd find in you.

Cover my eyes

Is it over yet

Calling me out

Or I'm over it

Under the Sun but another one,

Wonderful world is unconscious

The come up from nothin is morally deceptive

Almost loveless, unless God exists

Unless I'm God again

—wait, who is this

Houdini?

Another stream of conciousness.

Another scream,

Another seemingly endless dream

Or nightmare, of circumstances if

Circles dance in corner's

The coroner's report read: m m m

A chain reaction,

A form fitting fortress that falls apart, marginally

I can't imagine anything I haven't like let seen

I stand corrected;

God bless your blue eyed girlfriend;

As if God already hadn't

Having fun yet?

Never have an never did

And I couldn't never wish on falling stars,

Cause I don't believe in them,

A symptom of a syndrome,

Paliondrome, a solar plexus

Another social deficit—

‘At least he's not in special Ed'

An inspiration

On your mark,

And on my honor

I'm still partially retarded

But you started it, God

What an awful deposit

I wanted just to sit on the crosswalk

And not exist

Aww, don't cry Kelly— mmm—

I gawked at what I thought was a fararri.

But it's not, it's a Porsche

And I still want it —m m —

What if all I want was

All that you were born with

And all I ever worked for was

Something that just happened

What a trip

What inequality is

Tranquility, nah fuck it

Born and bred Brooklyn,

And stopping on Sutphin,

Taking to Satan

Crushing his cigarette

Yes, I remember

I'll always remember

The infinite immigrants

Multiple languages

And how I hate

Cause I just speak English and Spanish

And music

But I'm still homeless and lonely and gross

But I'm focused on fitness

WTT is this dude wearing

A Muscle shirt

Uh huh

With no muscles

Okay

Some— what are those—

Dry fit swimming trunks

Lol

And—

Oh shit! With matching crocs!

HAHA.

Even the socks match!

He is luxury.

For certain.

Take it easy;

I'm up in a tree—

But you can't see me

If it don't make money;

Then the can't make time

Fuck Brooklyn

Too many white girls

I should stay out in queens;

Where everybody is a nigger like me—

And iMm only getting bigger by the minute, man mi asked to be the King,

Chowing down on a pizza

Like fuck it

Nobody loves me,

I'll probably be mean for the rest of my life

If she looks at me one more time all spiteful

I'mma die tonight

—but at least I'll die an idol

Or icon

Come on, God—

Why you follow me

Looking like a blonde

And I'm just a hippopotamus

Never woulda thought of this

If I didn't have my heart

In the bottom of my pocket

Next to pocketbook,

I keep instead of wallet,

Full of business cards

Just another day at the office

Demoted from Equinox,

—but all the dollars go to the number one

Anyway

“Don't get hit by a bus”

That's all that God told me.

Before she ran off

It was the strangest and quietest subway ride of all time—even more strange and more quiet than usual; like a silent movie, the entire world seemed muted, and thought I had my headphones tightly over my ears, nothing played and nothing would, at least for the moment; it was

Put your hands around my neck —.

I'll sign all the proper paperwork;

This is my consent,

Consignment, or resentment—

Never would have guessed

For a pleasure better than this.

Cross it off my wishlist

Sealed it with a kiss,

I might remember to forget

If you forgive

Me

Hunger with a pitchfork

I love to love New York

I was a big fish in a little pond before

Get the picture;

Now I'm a dolphin getting bigger

Better yet a shark

It's better after dark

I love you harder in the car—

Be careful,

(((Fear)))

Why'd you have to be a star?

Why'd you write love on your arms?

Are you a martyr

Here it is again,

The infinite sadness

Rush hour— Manhattan

And I never had it

So trapped in my mind;

Rewind just to find

The cue point

It's you right?

Cupid, or Balcazar,

Whatever you are

Whatever I was

Whatever

Here it goes again

The automatic writing

The undercover cops

In New York

Are up to something

What is it

I'm having a really hard day;

I'm having a really hard time

I'm having a really hard time—

Yeah, I've lived a really long life

Sometimes the truth is just.lies,

Sometimes, I can't close my eyes

I'm having a really long day

I'm having a really long life

I wanted to sleep early and rise closer to dawn, to of course get the most out of my day and make up for the one I had lost, wandering around hungrier than usual, dehydrated, and spinning round, wound up and feeling more than anxious, not quite manic as I was wholeheartedly drained, but still off—and undoubtedly the reason why had to of course have been my surroundings—I wasn't entirely yet a product of my environment, but on my way to it; it had been 17 days of disgusting toilets, cold and shivering nights dressed in layers and covered in blankets, but still cold enough near the window that my nose was always cold, unless I suffocated myself covering my face; everything was dirty, everyone was sick and tired, and the misery of homelessness had settled in long enough now that I couldn't care any less about myself

‘Are you capable of keeping this nation's secrets?'

‘Probably—but I wouldn't want to.'

Deathwish>< Secret President

I beg your pardon?

You already know enough of them that you should be dead by now.

So what's your excuse for keeping me around?

You realize you're just a front-man for all this crazy shit we do around here?

I—don't care.

Are you drunk?

No, I'm unconscious

Living in this multidimensionality had allowed me to continue writing in such a way that everything I did and said held it's purpose, even if it was uncomfortable or terrible—not that I was exempt from suffering a guilty conscience, as I had still been raised with a sense of good and bad and right and wrong, and even upon understanding that these are just contrucfs, the bitter truth of the matter was that I, or any man, could only truly be trusted with the well-being of one's self and one's own interests, which might as well have been the best interests of this nation, my own stolen country —the American way had always been to escape oppression, only to run elsewhere and take what was needed to ensure one's own freedom; ‘so what of the spirits of the indegenous, then', whose blood continued to run through me no matter how cold or relentless.

It's a trap.

It's all a trap.

I had been crucified in a number of ways, triggered, kept awake, left out in the cold, toyed with and trapped, psychologically terrori

Now I'm confused

(I'm so confused)

Now I'm confused

I'm so-confused

Now I'm confused

(I'm so cofused)

Now I'm

“I'm so —

What the ruck am I looking at right now?

Uhhh…..

What are you doing?

I don't know

I'm so confused

I'm still confused

I'm confused

8'm still confused

IMm so confused—

I'm still confused

Well. If you wanna come back for your shot, I'll be here.

What are you doing.

Can you not

LOOK

I'm just so sick of myself

I'm just so tired of this world

I don't wanna wake up no more

No money, no problem

More money, more problems

Promise

Got a soul full of woes

Got no eyes on the prize

Got no home

And no hope for the world

Gotta go on

Still got my feet on the floor

Gotta go on

Still got no road to the coast

Gotta go on

I guess I'm still a ghost

Gotta go on

I got no love left no more

Gotta go on

Jesus Christ and all the sauce.

ALL THE SAUCE.

Not all the sauce.

I want ALL OF IT.

Lol he's like foaming at the mouth, right?

I—

Check it out.

I told you the government could time travelZ.

What. So they used Skrillex to —

To do what.

UNCLE SAM

I WANT YOU—

ALL OF IT.

UNCLE SAM

—

what. What does Uncle Sam want?

Idk. The charges dropped? Idk.

If he thinks you're lying—he's lying

If he thinks you're cheating—he's cheating

If he thinks that you're leaving—he's thinking of leaving

If he thinks that you need him; he probably needs you

If it feels like you're dreaming, you're probably dreaming—

If it feels like a fairytale, keep make believing

Too good to be true will always have a meaning

If you think you're his only;

Then there's at least three

There's no loyalty, here

Men don't have no monogamy

Men get fed up with the same thing,

Monotony

Being a man is just making monopolies

No propositions, proposals or probablies

God got you fucked up when you're ugly

God got you fucked up for the fun of it

God might make promises,

But it's no wonder,

There's love in her eyes

But there's nothing left under

No wonder.

No wonder

No wonder

No love left

No love left

No love left

No love left

No wonder

All out of water and oneness

All out of reasons to smile

All out out running the mile

And thinking you add up to something g

No wonder

No wonder

No wonder the world's out of water

No wonder

No trophies for breaking the cycle

Unless you become one

And still, you end up in the cycle

Unlikely you'll find the one

You might as well just go back

To the one that owns you

Who's dragging your son through the mud

Yeah

But he's crying for you

No wonder

No wonder

No wonder the worlds out of water

No uncle, no aunt, and no cousins to clothe you or house you

You might have a mountain, if you could just tell the whole world that you come from here

No hope for the humans

No wonder no water was left here

The ocean was rust and the tides had subsided

The water receded

And LA was left on her own

I don't owe an explanation for this insanity

I haven't had a man in a million galaxies

It's not that bad,

Now I dress all in black

Take it back for the countryman

Nobody loves me, man.

I'm just alone and befuddled,

I wanted to love,, but—

Somebody's coughing and keeping this contract of nothing and loveless and homeless;

And there's where I've been, man

How's Paris?

I should be embarrassed,

But really I'm just regressing again,

Depressed as I've ever been,

But taking a lesson in mischievous methods

And Devious determination to get back to LA

and say

“I finally made it”,

And get my makeup on,

And my hair fixed,

And pay off my high rise apartment

Where the AC ain't on, cause

I like it hotter than heaven

Cause Hell is a cold ass, lonely

Soapless, hopeless, homeless shelter

Where nobody loves you

And nobody calls you on your birthdays anyway

So you moved it to August

Cause you'll never see Skrillex or Jimmy Fallon in person,

But for some reason,

You think of them

Fondly.

—For Whatever Reason.

Fuck this.

Somebody's onto me;

Wrote a letter to God,

But God's not answering

Trust me,

You don't want this ugly thing

Under you

Don't offer me a house key

If you give a mouse a cookie;

You probably outta poison it

Oh!

In a world of smoke and mirrors

Everything gets clearer, clearer

He really is rare though,

Really— a limited edition

Genius, Edison

You don't deserve him

I don't want to be the president,

Don't want to be the President

Hey,

Oh!

It's still hell here;

I'll never be perfect

Can starve, but won't be there

Woah!

It's trauma every night

And

Drama every morning

This is not a warning

It's a lesson that you're learning

And a song that you're writing;

You can't write this wrong, no—

You don't belong in this world,

So get off it

Oh,

Woah,

I don't do this often

But I just don't want to go home,

That's just loveless

Ten broken marriages,

Coffins and caskets

And lions and scarecrows—

He won't take me back for this basket

I don't wear a bonnet

I'm done being honest!

It doesn't get you ahead in this

Better off dead and

I'm still just a nigger—

I've always been lost;

But I've already been here

I've already been here

Caught it on camera, eh

Undercover tape recording

Never in the locker room,

But never in my own roomX either

I'm just another one of those

Broken,

Homeless

I don't want to

I don't want to

Want to be the President

YOU CONTROL THE POLICE—

—I RUN THE AMBULANXE,

BITCH,

I RUN THE AMBULANCE

BITCH,

I RUN THE AMBULANCE

Fuxk a phantom

Fuck your Grammy's mammogram

Fuxk you ambivolance and nonchalance

You're just the ops,

I run the ambulance!

I just saw

Johnny wirh the two dogs,

At the shop and shop

Pop-pop,

This ain't no pop-up,

lol

My whole surfboard is taller

This is what you want

This is

This is what you want

This is what you want

This is

This is what you want

This is what you want

This is

This is what you want

This is what you want

This is

This is what you

Don't waste your time

Asking for adderall

They don't want help for you—

MedicicineMa meant to destroy you

All the black skin

In the streets

In the shelters

On the trains and

On the busses

The niggers on seroquel

They will not help you

They want to kill you

Don't take the medicine

If you have black skin

They will not help you

They want to kill you

Adderal, xanex;

It might be addictive—

But those with blue eyes

Are the only ones who get

—they don't even need it

They turn around and sell it

If you have black skin;

They'll give you seoquel

They want to kill you;

You'll think you're all better

But you're out in the streets, in the gutter

Talking to yourself

Pissing on yourself

Scratching off your black skin-

All because you're colored!

If you look like Elohim,

Go ahead, take the medicine;

Yes, you'll feel better;

You'll get to work with Skrillex

They'll give you an amphetamine,

So you feel less pathetic

Finish projects,

Transcendence

Don't take the medicine

If you have black skin

They will not help you

They want to kill you

But if you've got black skin

You're only a nigger/**trigger to them

Take the medicine

To kill you faster

Kill you faster

Finally an ever after

That makes sense to you bastards

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.