These terrorists are mad desperate;

A demon is a demon—

But a weak, feeble-minded brainwashed terrorist is another thing: just that.

[domestic terrorism and acts of sociopolitical psychological tactical practices by and against American citizens.]

The only satisfaction in knowing how right I was, became choosing not to directly address them anymore as they were— ignorant, insolent babies throwing temper tantrums—

It seemed altogether in the same system were the motorcyclists and the door slammers, as if some sort of strategy against free thought and the right to truth.

The actual truth of the matter was, that I was also in them—whether or not they had the conscience to know.

Be mad; I am.

Maybe now in coming times you will understand

How cruel it feels to be hated,

For just existing.

Fragility

Something ‘about' me bothers you so deeply—

And you ‘don't know' what;

But I'll tell you what it is…

Later.

For now,

I'll just enjoy soaking in your rage —

How wrong you feel I am

For being right.

And how right I am—

That this is wrong.

{Enter The Multiverse}

“Billie's Bong”

The poor Billie Ellish has a neon bong.

Woah! You have a bong!

Yeah.

That's sick.

Do you not—smoke?

No. Wait. Do you not—like, sing?

Nah, yeah— I'm in like, a band, but—

But what about your vocals?

We play punk!

Nice.

[A CHARACTER walks in, and is astounded to see the two practically identical Billies.]

Who though?

Doesn't matter.

I don't get it. Which one is which?

They both shrug.

The poor Billie Ellish and the regular Billie Ellish have almost everything in common besides money— being that, “broke Billie” comes from a stereotypically dysfunctional family, and a broken home, and has lived a majority of her life in poverty—besides of course—Finneas at least having once served as the lead guitarist of her band, before dropping off.

Wait, what did happen to your Finneas?

Ah, My Finneas? Forget about it. That dude is a skag.

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.

EY.

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 bones apes against the railing;

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

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

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

I'm 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 metr's 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 Elm/ 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.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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