Bath in lemon peel and coconut oil

Himalayan salt

And I smell like

Lemon pound cake

I have to wonder

What it would be like

To have a body

Spring to action

Like somebody picked me up

And dropped me

On the ball

The $50 “deposit” for “volunteering” at Lightning In A Bottle was non-refundable— so I wasn't going. even if it did mean valuable contacts and a possible job; it just didn't seem worth it.

The cost of travel alone would mean that I'd return nearly with what I'd started with— and it might not even be a good idea to spend time around people who, in the current state of things— might feel a certain way about me. Then, this was California and not New York; New York was a tense and uncomfortable hot bed—and I didn't fit in on any side. Still, I needed an escape from my neighborhood, but any sense of temporary escape would just mean returning to the neighborhood, broke and without means to actually leave. I hated the neighborhood, the noise rotted my core. After a year of endless motorcycles and modded cars speeding around in circles, I no longer woke up with melodies and songs swirling around in my brain; no motivation, no energy left— I wasn't training, running, or eating correctly. Anger swept over me—I had become too ill from the noise anymore to do much or anything but stay to myself. I was the only safe thing around for miles.

Tales of a Superstar DJ

Second path,

I dissappear

Complete the path

Complete despair

I've been sent around in circles

I've been desperate

I'm grown immortal

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.