It was surreal, I was off the grid and in airplane mode, and completely lost without giving a care

I was so frustrated that I just kept waking.

Just when I started to seriously consider suicide, with the exact timing of my thoughts reaching the logistical point that ‘there was really nothing let in the world for me'— then it appeared right before my eyes; as if it had just sprung up in my path.

I wasn't worried that I was lost, or even panicking in a suicidal spiral, I just thought to myself

“It's really time to go.”

Then, the radio tower, which looked something like a sigil that had been appearing to me over and over. It made no other kind of sense; my phone wasn't connected to the internet, nor was maps installed; my location was off and in lockdown mode, and I knew I had missed the turn for Whole Foods… and just kept walking.

In airplane mode, listening to heavy rock, wondering why I should even try at anything at all when

Suddenly i realized It was a radio station. I didn't know what kind of music, but it didn't matter— I had music in all the genres. And though it was with intense irony that I had pretty much entirely given up on DJing, especially for the moment— here was this, something I just stumbled upon after walking what seemed pretty aimlessly into an almost suicidal frame of mind— not unheard of. My apartment was a hellscape and walking around Brooklyn was not much difference, besides that I was in the noise rather than on top of it. Either way, it was so exact I couldn't tell whether it happened before or at the same time, almost as if the universe's response to my logical needing to just kill muself off before it could get any worse was this thing I had very recently, pretty much entirely meaningfully abandoned. Trying to be a DJ.

Was I trying?

I didn't know. But either way, I had music out and business cards in my pocket, and so here it just must have been where I was walking to, anyway.

At least I got rid of the trackers by confusing them— and myself— by completing a large circle in the opposite direction of the way I was sure I was supposed to be going.

I'm hungry

And I'm lonely

And nobody loves me anyway

I never feel at home

And look

Nobody wants me anyway

My body is a rotting truck

Nobody wants me anyway

I might as well have been a corpse

Nobody wants me anyway

lol

Didn't it have like ham,

And—

— both these cheeses.

Cojita and queso blanco.

With like—

Pinapple, I think—

And like, a kosher dill pickle.

Hence the Dill.

I guess.

It was a really good sandwhich.

Yeah.

Oh well.

When the friend in your head ends,

And just drops dead, so you run in

With the old hog for a laugh and a couple of

Drops of syrup

Water fountain

Now I'm hungry

It's been years

But who the fuck is counting.

We all made bad decisions and choices

Mine was to jump first,

Yours comes with comfort, a petite stature

And a long slovic look with an axe tongue

And a language no one on earth speaks

But those who had what most or none do

And you wonder why I close my eyes and suffer harder in oceans of blondes

Far off looks of lost souls

Eyes of oceans

And no monuments without our fortunes

Wrong, bud.

I put it on a kings Hawaiian roll

One for ever one I've suffered

We have the same deck of cards,

Only mine can talk, son

Look, I wrote you an open socket

Conform to nothing

Nobody loves me, anyway

cause I get hungry

Go be a husband, dope boy

Go be a Carhart, countryman

Go be a store bought doughboy

That ought to solve it

Dropped you on

Stop that

Round the corner

9 holes of golf left

I told you who won that

Round one

What a way to die

What a way to live

What a way to love

King James!

What away to lose.

What away to tie.

What a way to die.

What a way to lie!

King James!

I've got bibles for miles

And eyes on my articles,

Isis on cycles

And Christs in criseses

I put a thorn on your mailbox

Will you promise to prick it?

The finger

I picked it!

The truth was involved

And in blood it was written

The ritual sense,

Pretenses

Pretend this didn't happen

“I didn't”

I swore throat on your mailbox

I promise

I nailed the mailman and ten blondes

Just not to fawn at the thought of ya

Fawn at the thought of you

But oh am I woke on my tired

Regardless

I simple don't write in code

—till I'm inspired.

Woah!

What a lovely scroll you wrote!

King James!

What the fuck made me write that?

Scallions!

There's a million ways to die

And oh,

The toll of having Wolverine

Wrapped around your finger

Aspartame

Had better bitter sanctions

From the tales of old

Histophcles

And obstacles

The Oxford girls?

More tour bus stories,

Blonde hair

Broke

Bloke,

Tits and tits and

Have you written any sentiments

About your post mortem.

Of course.

I even put my will in order

It's obvious they want me dead

And rather than a lover

There simply is no love left!

String her up and cut the torso,

Let the blood fall

And the organs,

And the morbid flesh rot,

Soaking all of her horror stories

Of love and unrequited hypocrisy!

There, there, settle down.

You haven't one yet

I still have an ounce of coke in my pocket

Coke in my pocket

And I can't pronounce the name of my next guest,

The show I'm hosting—

I might as well just sound it ouhhuuuut—

Cold .

Okay, then.

I can have a pilot in a month with just the look of him

Without it on a tub of

Petroleum jelly or whatever jew bargain

I cried so much

I really liked the taste of reddi whip

You know

I guess

I just

Wasn't ready for it

Will and Grady,

Grace and Katie

Now were all watching

Cause they're younger

While we're steady greying

Who are her?!

I'll hire her.

Not so fast,

A laundry list of thoughts

And plummeting stock options

I still love all my loved men

But nobody loves me

So unrequited is the prerequisite for this poet

And so I chose to split open

With my guts, hunting forward into the cut

Knowing, my purple entrails will impale you

And the words I have laid here

I didn't fit the herd mentality

And still was lead to slaughter

Haha,

Charade you are, sir.

I know my love when I'm shadow bonded.

Not now, Matthew,

James and I are talking,

Dear brethren

As brother

And mother and son

And as whore and horror show.

Tell me something, sparrow

Did I throw you off your steep cut oats

It's heavy on the tongue

With whispers that I love you

Mother son and brother

Just around the corner

Bear around the bush again

Just to jack it off, or up

The spare tire's on a doughnut

How god loving

I want the world, my whole throat

Throbbing at the thought of concepts

Lover, lover, lover—

magnet, skip a turn

And call his mother

No one's going home alive

Or any other way,

So I just call the others,

Others

Fathers,

Sons,

And brothers

Ties

And bonds—

A uniformed comfort.

My hopes. In an evolving box.

L E G E N D S

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project ™ ]

The Collective Complex ©

COPYRIGHT THE FESTIVAL PROJECT ™ , INC. 2019-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-nobody, by now.

(-Ū.)

INT. RAVE. DAY-ISH.

CARL COX Answers the Phone.

Oh yes, oh yes?

Tales of a Superstar Dj