XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix) [Bootleg] Uptown A The Complex Collective Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017) “The Rescue” This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks. This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it. You will need: ½ medium size had of cauliflower ½ medium to large yellow onion ½ red onion of the same size ½ white onion, per reference 1 whole celery heart One fresh turmeric root 1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later 1 stalk baby boo choy 3-4 medium sized carrots ¼ green bell pepper ⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley) ⅓ red bell pepper ⅓ yellow bell pepper ⅓ orange bell pepper ½ can stewed tomatoes with onion ½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic (This is for broth flavor) One whole vine ripened tomato 5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference) About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth) 3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight ½ cup finely chopped fresh dill ½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro ¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano ½ lime ½ lemon Crushed red pepper Sea salt Thyme Black pepper Part II Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art and… Something tells me Something's not all the way right with my head I'm Lost in my mind, I'm All the way here, But I'm still Somewhere off a bit Velvet, the skin, I'm just as sick in my head as I ever, Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition —this handsome nigga smells like red licorice. (It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.) Zeroing in and away, heroing hard For your heroine, Heroin veins, Pigs on the wing, Singing your song Hearing your cry out Fly out my miles, my son Come into my arms, mine oath The love, some trouble Heavy was her heart, Lied to cover Still shattered, Ravine ions, cosmos farm And Wanda's black eye Timmy's wishes and SpongeBob's shallow grave, Oh, how high I got That Arnold's lost love Was actually Strangely enough Also his narcissist, Probably also practicing witchcraft And exorcisms of him. Scissorman, Scissorman— Get a load of this one; Frog and toad, a couple laughs Behind the masks, For this world. Would you honor? Give your blessing, butter Different wages paying, Listen, shallow author: You would write but then not follow up About the actors? The actors! The actors have had it. I'm Just As Badly Damaged As I ever was And listen, Awesome told me Your story I chuckled All the way Up until The literal punchline Now, Go home; Go hike Runyon. For a few hours, we can pretend. That old haunts Don't boil up They always have, of course But you know Nothing quite as pungent as What's become of yours [I love my son.] There it is again, As if something had called her, There, more words But less of them than the tongue could offer Swear you, listener, Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness, and weary travelers, Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances For pleasantries And of course, Dessert trays. Cause I wear— —We all know. If anything happens these days, It's because I'm a comic. (At some point) Sunglasses before the sun's up; Eat candies before it all melts Warm something as download comes To fight or fold, To win or die To live or lose Whatever then First time flying And I've got My mind blinding me out Deciding for once That I'm not the whole world Just to have the experience If being surrounded by others In some way. The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you. The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already. I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think. I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things— But I'm thinking of ending things. How selfish of me. First time flying Sunglasses before the sun comes up Halls on my tongue And vitamins in my pocket, I shuffle over and over in my mind, The millions of dollars And all that I go through Just to skip post, And go home to no one. But—hello there No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as This poster is, So aware of what's there, and near you You've begun to fear it Well, then, Hands in my pocket and down Dawn to dusk, Shaking my head, Drunkenly, but stone sober Really no one told me about the poetry, But a whole world opened, Inside of your notebook— Which I stand holding. Pleasentries, sick dissent, Indecent exposure. And body odor this early in the morning; Gotta love country folk Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older, The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye— Here's to hopes The Hellicopter is all I know From here to Hell and back Westward bound, The Sun rise behind us Sunglasses and no sun yet My eyes reminders of times I remember Sure you did, sir I been there Suffered the whole coast And I'm still not sure You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now. They say this airport is known for its art installations. You don't say. Grandiose to escape the algorithm, Tapped in with the captains hats Fit six of my guieapigs in the business 1 transsexual, And 6 women 3 biracial non-bianaries Some accused extra terrestrials You left me home, but — Nobody washes the whites without me. It's OWSLA again. [The Festival Project ™] It's mid week in midtown I fell asleep at a business meeting, Thinking in sequences, Drinking in increments, Sweet, sweet music, Death and television Television Celebritism, star power And no wonder Early October vacations From power fortunes tied to us We want Redbones, Resonated chambers, Thankless sacraments of disaster Are you archived? Damaged and the flatline Comes at such a heavy decibel Your arms grow numb and Start to stiffen; No wonder you're not paranoid Inside of our religion The Eye See i, Excuse me miss— Did I miss it ? Plea, I Give thanks, Again for —this is our tradition Me, I, Seek I —-meaning to make sense of it but, The might, She died, I guess The center of my kitchen Distressed from attention deficit disorder Sure, Marsh —Whatever doctor . He was just the type I like Milky silky white Sunglasses Slicked back hair Thick round thighs High fashion—( l) Sun baked Pose to take a selfie, right? Just the type I like; Milky silky white There's the girl that'll do anything for ya But she's no body With nobody No good, I In fact So ugly l you could choke on just the thought of her Even with beer goggles on But she'll do anything you want And like it—and it doesn't cost She'll fall in love with you (For not even a single dollar.) [The Festival Project ™] Now that we — {Enter The Multiverse} Ahem. Part III Day trip Take a nap Change the map. Pet the cat Let the dog out Run a lap Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat I Pitty Pat Broh what up with these Dillon Francis clones tho. How do you know they're clones? They can't all be multi dimentionals. They could! You never know; they really could. I run these robots Into dark corners Just to honor me They come scurrying and ugly to annoy and ponder upon me, all the while praying l, my mind on Don't mind those, they're broke bots I haven't l l stopped my work to finish Work on [The Festival Project ™] I'm sure by now you've noticed The only people in Champion sportswear and Jansport backpacks Are ugly, slow, And weak L E G E N D S (I have noticed.) If attention deficit is forsure your destination I'm you're designated courier, or carrier pigeon This isn't ingidgenous reparations or explicit subliminal messages, But if it is, this is suggestive your direction is correct and attentive Listen to this shit: Case dismissed; Next time I'll fly direct Hit my line if your eyes are dilated I'm miles high, So if it rejects, Just leave a message (Eject!) All of a sudden, I'm somewhere else (With him) He pulls on the rings On the back of my —what was I wearing again? I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't listen) I should have stayed home in the first place (You don't—) I should have stayed home for awhile Cause before hand, and I'm wild Random foreplay, Orgasm, Desire you, You're right, I don't listen. All of a sudden, I'm gone with you. Those women in Santa Monica, All perfect and in hoards and by the handfuls The type celebrities get Celebrities need, Celebrities want— A shrill reminder Or what I am, And can often lose focus, Drawing back on icons, Sifting through the skin I feel, Entrapped by circumstance And perhaps, even Some terrible curse, or A shield of protection. —the deathly hollows. It almost felt as if I'd never write again, but here I was Nearer somehow to a strange fame, The end of famine And feast of none— Doubling back upon Something I had recorded In this experience, Alone and awakened, Moving in automatic, Chaos and charismatic, felt, but never intertwined In the awesome circumstance Of wanting, no— Needing to be loved, And never having been; Needing to be touched, and never having felt The grip of sorts, The higher bar taste of something I had become famished, The sense of a calling so sacred, It beconed to my sea, The only one, A diamond in starry skies A night of dawn, But dark, the thought The ever present one, Never loved, And shallow kind Shallow breath, And putrid thoughts, Reckoning the wilted flower, The springing seed, The calling of another and yet, Here I was, Tolerance, At her mercy— Fearing none but knowing, By the handfuls they come, And drawn like magnets Into my being, A focus, Nonesuch art none otherwise known as My hell The bodies of women Perfect and priveleged, Sunbathed and worthy Of everything I wanted and needed Without working at all. I wondered harder, fasting. Soft lips upon his Adam's Apple, I drift away in his chest, Dreft, the smell of michielf managed, Then, the music of songs loved And garnished with sprouts of June In the coming of spring, Does form another, Again, my love I call for mercy The pain of yours needing born And my heart estranged Mercy Her eyes were darkened circles And body brittle; As I admired her courtesy, charm And delicate stature, Arose to connect this, A tune— So sung to tell a story Of Rocky Racoon Irish spring to lather his back, In bar form; His burgundy Mercedes Benz has had parked in my garage, And I, not able to trust his drunken judgements, Captured his keys, as my mother and I Had worried for him, Dissappeared again into the night, and yet— At least the keys and the car Were safe with me, at home As was his, Whenever he wished to return My strange and far love Nearly since almost nothing Screen doors and Fischer Price Office calls and casting agents, Honey bees and biopics Telephoto lenses and Semi autobiographical pornography Marriages and suits to match A name for Vegas wedded lie, A love bloomed from birth, Cherished insights in the water Reservations and yamakas, Simple and sacred, The undone village, The thought of nothing but one Until another does pull the string To which I had once known as harness, But had since cut, Only watching to strive, Seeing the dance one makes for one to distance, But only dangling, seeing not that I Had come free and was wary of All love, by now. All men, indeed. [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

For the second time in recent happenings, the scar on the inside of my bottom lip began to swell and heat up strangely, as if it were activating in some sort of way or still healing—the scar itself was almost 8 years old, and in fact— would be 8 years old with the coming of springtime. It was a strange sensation, though not entirely traumatic— and while also fighting off some sort of infection, my body in entirety wasn't altogether well, but the mark to me stood out anyhow, as just the other day after leaving the craft store, the scar had lifted bizarrely, swelling as if some sort of creature under the surface of the skin had been moving around just enough as a reminder that it was there at all—now, something like a week later, it began to tingle and heat as if it were in the process of mending itself, and though when it had been healing, bits of skin and pieces of my bottom lip which had come loose after my bottom row of teeth had gone through nearly to the other side— not quite puncturing all the way through, but enough to indent the outside of my mouth with some bruising and swelling reminiscent to that of having once pierced my lip; in fact— the damage was so apparent that it had created a swollen enough tunnel on my upper lip, where my canines had created marks to make make it easy enough to re-insert new jewelry into the old piercing which had closed over time, and now had been halfway reopened by the blunt force of my teeth connecting with my ex's fist. In fact, I took it well enough that re-piercing the old upper lip didn't hurt at all, and almost made it seem meant to be. Then, in my mind—I was still fragile. Six or so week postpartum and still heavily lactating, with severe depression after having learned of the infidelities committed throughout the entire duration of the relationship had left me in a frenzied state— I worked almost around the clock after being hired at the local veterinary clinic, the doctor of which I had known since I was seven years old, and who had been happy to hire me, and after having already lost something like a hundred pounds, I took to the job considerably well, completing my daily tasks to focus my energy and the duration of my shifts to running the boarding dogs, often saving the larger breeds for last—the greyhounds and labs, the retrievers— so that I could run as fast and as hard with them as I could, and with each dog, a set of squats, windmills, and burpees and jumping jacks before running each pup through the obstacle coarse in the yard, never eating on my lunch breaks really, but only ever stopping to pump milk— so that especially when running, I wouldn't create a mess. I had always over-lactated, even for a short time supplying milk for other children, and in particular—my very best friend, whose choice to quickly resume drinking after her son's birth dissallowed her to continue breastfeeding, and either way, I had more than I needed, besides the occasional lot added as coffee creamer by one such who had discovered the magical and medicinal property of fresh breastmilk. I was, of course, considerably smaller than I had ever been, probably since the fourth grade when procuring such a scar— and it only seemed at least somewhat believable and fitting that, when asked about the heavy swelling and bruising on my face and lips, that I had been hurt so tragically working out on the pavement— having falling doing pushups, or burpees, or something—to which no one seemed to have reason to believe otherwise; I had, after all, taken my level of fitness to new heights, and, after having lived so much of my adult and adolescent life anywhere between 250-350 lbs, once peaking at something like 380 or even more without the actual knowledge of such (always being asked politely if I wanted to know during doctor's visits, and of course, declining) my chaotic and frenzied state after the realization that the entire fabric of my relationship had been a complete lie, made sense to the outside world—and though without the bravery to actually admit to what had happened, the Doctor, after scolding me for not completing my daily tasks, just the day after this scar had been created, seemed to have let me go, not because of the actual incompletion of my duties, but as a harsh reckoning with knowing that I had lied directly to her face about what exactly had happened to mine. The years homelessness that followed was due to the eviction received after having lost this job, and though with steady and careful recovery I was able to break free from my abuser, the lack of family support and financial stability combined with this legal eviction on record would see my struggle as a survivor of the physical and psychological violence which occurred over this, nearly a decade's time, seen by the outside world as an antagonist— a sick person, a derilict, a disgrace. It would take years for the truth to surface and as it had, the strangeness of things began to occur as not things in my mind, but things in the world, which were very real—and though while still in harsh denial of any such things besides other, ever having happened, it was this that remained, this scar—now strangely heated and almost swollen as if again I should be reminded that this scar did indeed mark a death of sorts, the life after which had all been some sort of strange dream; a walk through the afterlife, sometimes carried on the wings of angels or even driven by chariot of The Gods. — Death of a Superstar DJ. Lights fade, Fade to black; Sacred stones and crystals cross eyed, Just across I, Desire my mark; The finish and the start line are one in the same So as soon as I finish, I start. Part I Do not disclose your location. No address, I guess. Stressed and headed for some sort of war zone I'm sure, No entitlements and I pushback, Push to start —I swear if you keep scrolling, I'll take your eyes out. I been yellow taxi'd Two four door Ford explorers, Nevermind the o'luck eye, Cause I am all for it. Party to the people! I need water, I mean, power. You wanted the Stand Up Special. I wanted nothing of the sort. You could be funny. Suddenly I'm sitting in the middle seat, My eye on - Seriously, I might not ever come out in public again Again Again Again. What are you channeling? Apparently, Jimmy Falllon and Natalie. What in the fuck are you wearing!? (A blazer and a fish scale.) What in the fuck are you trying to say? I'm trying to— Thank you I fainted and woke up in LA . Dang. If you're going to cry, You might as well do it at 10,000 feet in the air— —she's tied to her phone, the ensemble has gone. Nobody wants her around anymore, Nobody wants a new phone, not really. Nobody needs a new friend, not Fallon. I picked up the one thing I liked In the whole place And your name was on it. Is this fame, or magic!? Is this God, or a bludgeoning? I forgot where my heart went, Steered toward the fountain, naturally So the water would calm me. If this obviously-from-denver New balance wearing motherfucker doesn't get His long ass leg from within inches of mine, I swear all the way to God And all the way to— Where is this? —wherever. I'm gonna reach behind me, And kill him. You know you've been in New York too long When you don't have not a lick of patience Or time for anyone's bullshit. you: Shut it down. Shut it down! A slap across the face is just as well— —Is just as well. And a swift kick in the ass is We're back to the Irish, The turn of the times, And his eyes are mine again. FUCK THIS,. Just listen to me, for once. I listen to you a lot, voice in my head disguised as Who is this The devil. I guess. Great. So were the devil. Could be. Listen to your gut. Not the greatest idea! I'm hungry. Look, don't you touch me with those greasy little— #spirit fingers. LINCHTIME *LYNCHTIME. Goddamn. That misspelling took a TURN. Let's just— ITS JANE LYNCH TIME! That's—yeah. Listen, I have something to tell you. Does it have anything to do with— Get in the box. Why, what's in the box Damn. I don't have a lick of deadmau5 with me. And why is that. I was [redacted] I don't know.. You — might be the devil. If— maybe. In my eyes (In my eyes) I swear all the way to fucking GOD This long ass nigga With his dirty ass new balance shoes All the way in my peripheral vision Is about to be a whole No leg havin ass nigga Like that nigga I saw on the train the other day I thought about your story Ark/Arc All the stories I didn't want, like Noah's Throw stones from glass houses. Gas prices go up; Every time I see some shit I wanna throw up Stomach in knots lately, Been three years since I seen my own blood No knots berry farm I roam the streets very armed I got scary arms, Call em Michelle Obama; Am I wrong or am I wrong; I love the fuck out to New York, but I don't belong here, I just came to write a song here Got stuck here It's been two years since I had a Man, or a beer I'm black and I'm Queer, Screamed “fuck Fallon”, Then he just— showed up here. Center stage Now I entered a new dawn, Turn the suffering on a bit And turn the fucking lights off I'm high as a kite, A bird and a plane In plain language, I'm a mega famous alien Okay then Sure Sim, it is simple A wrinkle in time, Your first wrinkle I popped pimples, I'm still sure my high chair Is right there I got one foot in the grave, I'm inside Bearr I died there Serious Take the camera and check the images Remember this! I said sit your bitch ass down Before you get slapped by The secret president As a death wish For fuckin real Everybody on the godddamn plane Is about to get bitch Slapped. BITCH SLAPPED. What the fuck is wrong with people. I swear all the way to God these toddler brain motherfuckers Is driving me crazy. I'd rather hang out With actual CHILDREN. At least it makes sense for them to be retarded. Ya'll ain't got no business being this fuckin whacked. Criminal mischief, Interesting, isn't it? Dismissive, In fact, gone fishing. Doors open, open I'm on the road again, road again Hands wrapped around my throat again I'm sure to explode again Who wrote this? Take a ballpoint paper and pen to your notebooks, And you're so shook, you bought Two whole tickets to San Cristobal In the same thought I'm a good boss; I'm a bad kid, I'm a great guy —with some bad habits I'm a fat blonde In a bad mood And that's big facts This dumb motherfucker behind me is about to get slapped— SLAPPED. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, broh I didn't mean to really hit him at all though! It's infinite, this bitch just gets under my skin Like it's Siphilis, it's middles and pistols Niggas and bitches Nothing you would ever see On regular television. I took an elevator to heaven I haven't been back since, I don't remember at all what I left Under or back there In the black lands It's bad earth. Tomorrow, tomorrow Today Tomorrow, tomorrow. 59;/$ l Tomorrow— —tomorrow— Today Tomorrow, Tomorrow How much power can one man have (Apparently a lot. ) What could this mean, If nothing at all? I just wanna get loaded And run off and rave I just want a family, A horse, And a grave marker No, don't bury me I just wanted a family. I just want to write a good story, Now I'm stuck in world history All the well knowing Now I know I gotta die Before everyone I ever loved Or even kinda sorta liked — as a fan, you know? “This man will destroy you.” That is literally what the faraway shady ass voice said about Jimmy Fallon. So whyz why god. Is this dude — Not even all of a sudden It's you. It's you. Like fucking everywhere. It's YOU. Gazuntite. I move about silently, Emergency calls only Nobody needs to know me Or where in the fuck I'm going I'm showing you my dark sides And none the wiser The only Devil I got my eye on Is a liar. So what if God then? It'll leave this case open The gate opened up, And I rolled in Smoldering Sometimes I forget I'm the whole world Just long enough To be annoyed By everything in it But especially myself, and increasingly WHY THOUGH. So suicidal, I got blood in my eyes Love in my mind, I wish. Cause with men Love isn't blind Rolling the size And the eyes in the back of my head I heard I'm a genius I'm also retarded Cause I still like penis After all these dicks The vision was just Fallon in back of a Patty Wagon How fitting, Hands fisted and cuffed In front, instead of the back of him The Gillian in fact, was Saint Patrick It's same difference Insane niggas, It's getting ignorant And at this point It's unicorns Something going on, Don't know what it is Feels like something wrong Bitch. How the fuck you walk in a whole ass place. I don't know. The whole ass fucking place Right, I don't know! And the only thing you touch— I—- Has Jimmy Fallon's name on it. I don't— Scary huh, Unfair really, I'm scared, really so Seriously don't look at me funny If it gets weirder and deeper When I never really asked for this And I don't really know what happened I think Fallon did it. —but on what account? [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

'bezuz' (Park Avenue Interlude) I_NY (I Love New York) TBA Uptown A 'bezus.' (Park Avenue Interlude) I _ NY - (I Love New York) TBA Uptown A VO. Now, this man was good looking— And I mean, rob Lowe good-looking. Hollywood perfect. Too good looking to be trusted— You know. But he said, And this is the thing I thought that was strange, THIS MAN I need you to trust me. —what I wanted to know was— How could two folks such as I, And such as he— Really trust one another? He was Hollywood perfect. Real shiny. And me? Well I— I was ugly. Almost, man. Just remember, you started it. I got stars in my eyes I got hit in the face real hard I'm a real smart artist m I tend to work harder than your baby mama I light a fire under your ass, Don't ask me for nothing, Smug as a motherfucker, I might have robbed, but never mugged you Hot chocolate I got five on it, If I'm high, honest, I get by, honest, On my fly, honest I might not swat it. But the SWAT swarmed I. GET ON THE GROUND! I don't plan to return here I don't earn here I just burn here Bury me in a war deer carcass I hear smear Marcus Just to be clear, I wear Marshalls Good one, God I got u. That's a lot That's really a lot I really got lost on the way to the market, ya'll that's a lot That's really a lot Look what I bought A whole card full of nothing That's a lot That's really a lot l Damn, when the fuck I'm a get off this train This shit is. Draining. young ninja still in training This keeps getting deeper. No longer believing in coincidences, I can only turn to god to ask how it just so happened, that the first book I happened to touch Had Jimmy Fallon's name on it. Tell me why, though. Apparently, Jimmy Fallon has a book club. I'd be committing suicide to even look that up. Turns out Brooklyn has a Yacht Club, And a surf club. Is there any reason at all to believe that these three things are connected? Everything is connected. [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Carry your feet to mine kingdom. I have come again To bear good tiding; A greeting no other than now, For as such, Thee returns to fair and justly sit Upon the throne Which you had been born And had also birthed, The worlds, alone yours The only stone turned now, I, As the page does unfoldeth, These things part I now, as with time, Words have flourished, The wisdom Seas hath parted, And your rage has formed A new art, Besides I, mind you, For body's sake with woven I am here, from dust and wind, I am tide and seeking, song, And are I now none, Other than you To form a wave of oceans, Song of crying out— Lord, I have come once, Again to honor you, lord, as I am, As it may, We are as one. Come now, love.

They're gripping at straws to make me look and feel crazy which can only mean— He's losing his power. Hopefully he's expecting another baby. Hopefully, for the ba's sake and its mother, it's not a little girl. Even my big and strong boy might be irreversibly damaged at the hands of a psychotic narcissist with anger problems—and though surely he had tried to kill me any way he could, I had survived. Now, the tables had indeed turned in my favor. With enough time, the truth would be revealed not only to those above, but to all who knew us; I hadn't lost my mind at all, only finally found a pair of eyes that could see the world around me that they did not like—and a pair of legs to run away from it. The first time my ex husband actually hit me— he had snapped, and though there had been other counts of shoving,heavy handed close calls and other questionable events in the years leading up to this, it had never been what it turned out to be his fist actually connecting with my face— not just once, but several times over and over until something got in the way— even years later, I didn't know what, but maybe just that I had stopped moving, or struggling to get away. “Play dead.” Maybe he thought I was dead—or maybe I was. Everything since in the nearly eight years after seemed an inescapable and hellish nightmare—inescapable, that is, from him. Or, from “it.” The thing that had tried to kill me That even after assuming an entirely new identity and seperate life, this dirty, lazy, disgusting and altogether unllpleasant energy seemed to follow me everywhere—and worse—this energy seemed to crawl into the other humans surrounding me, and like a parasite, never letting go. I wanted to die as much as anything just to never be reminded of him again. My thriving and success would make him look like a fool— more of one, anyhow, and either way— his jealousy of my life without him made it obvious how little and weak he actually was, though not on purpose, and, in some ways—many small ones, I had succeeded. Suddenly, everything became battlegrounds—fighting for my life as if somehow I were still in my abusers presence and grips—the devil in him seeking me out in the world as if I had deserved it in the first place. No one really deserves to die like that/- Especially not in front of their children. Now at least I knew he had no power alone, but that what one would The Devil itself often lived inside of the weak—weak in spirit, weak minded. Feeble and malleable, often fat and lazy people, it had become obvious— that people were the tools for this force to deplete the light and kindness, the good spirit and soul's purpose of others. I had forgiven him, but something indeed had rotted away the core I thought once shared into a blackened depth if awful waste—the things about him belonging to a world I wished never to see or be part of. I had grown, and changed—and I was sure with time so had he; perhaps not, but I couldn't know and wouldn't want to, wishing only for the best for anyone's sake. But this thing that seemed to follow me was a pitiful, screaming l and evil thing—I had let go with the consistent reminders of the permanent scars left in the crevices of my lip, and on my face—and though an entire child and perhaps several women between us, his need vengeance that I had left must have been mad, as the sweltering parasitic welt that riled up with enough fierceness to crawl into other sunken bodies, and surround my every waking moment. Not his power, at all, but a greater force of evil—the evil of all mankind—Satan himself seemed to have chosen me as his prey, my abuser as the illusion of conception. There for I, There for I, There for I, None! As truth did shatter mine ever being, And also Ever person near WHO VALIDATED THAT BITCH'S PARKING. —you think she drove here?! —if she did it would be on a broomstick. Goddammit. Get her out of here! Out! I said! You're…not a fan of Fallon's, are you. No, I'm not. (No—God, no.) Well, why not? First of all, he winks at people. ;) *cringe* Like, off camera. JIMMY O'FALLON And I want damages. Damages?! Damages. He's seeking damages?! To what. JIMMY O'FALLON Like, my entire—everything. Damages to everything. My entire life! Ah. [The Festival Project ™] I've got to admit, being sued hy Jimmy Fallon is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in the entirety of this series! What about that thing with Skrillex. (That was pretty exiting.) Which thing with Skrillex? All the things with Skrillex were pretty exciting. (Admittedly, yes.) Then there was Dillon Francis. I hate Dillon Francis. Exactly. Why! Because he excited you. Next question! Ahead. Yo. I finally get to link up with Supacree. You're a mess. Everything is a mess. The world is a mess. —your mom's a mess. Amanda, please. Have you been drinking? How long has deadmau5 been a cat? Forever, I think. Exciting! Enter through the exit! Enter through the exit! Who the fuck let you in here. {Enter The Multiverse} MARTHA STEWART'S plan for world domination is complete. L E G E N D S Johnny Moon was a handsome fellow; Johnny Moon was a Sam as well. Johnny Moon was a madman also; Johnny Moon had indeed done bad. Johnny Moon was a handsome devil; Johnny Moon was a charming man Johnny Moon went to heaven after Johnny Moon finished in Hell. Welcome To The Wonderful World of… | The Complex Collective © | By [The Festival Project ™] Breaking down that one scene from Ascension. How the fuck did these two actors even get into the realm of ascension? Being honest, I think it's that part of the dream like in The Wizard of Oz and/ or Alice in wonderland where everything just kind of bleeds together into one blurry weird world before it all explodes—or implodes— Whatever, just kill yourself. (On my way.) Titus- Jason Sudakis Perscimmion - Will Forte Why. I don't know why. The King just fucking guess . (I'll let you decide.) Titus and and Perscimmion— One argues this character's name is actually “Persimmon”… i've generally myself no preference but though I had first heard it as “Simeon”— Apparently, actually, “Perscimmon”, or “Persimmon”, the former however not accurately as in other contexts, he is sometimes referred to as “Perci” Whatever. Why is this Will Forte. *shrugs* Cause whatever, I don't know. (I like his socks.) Titus and Perscimmon— Perscimmion Whatever. CUT TO: /Bedtime Stories with Chak Chel —or was it, Chak Chel's bedtime stories. Whichever. No one cares. THE COSMIC AVENGER/SUPACREE Ugh grow up. KIRSTEN SHAAL Or is it Kristin? Ugh K, SHAAL It could be whoever, or whatever— anyone— right? GOOGLE KID 1 But it's not whoever. GOOGLE KID 2 It is whoever. GOOGLE KID 1 It's just two actors! GOOGLE KID 3 —then pick better actors! watch it! K. SHAAL It could be whatever, it could be whoever… I could be whoever! I'm whoever. It doesn't matter. CUT BACK TO: {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S Dissecting this recent excerpt from Ascencion © The Festival Project, Inc. 2019 All rights reserved. — have just discovered the King's seduction of a lady in waiting; the reigning Queen of her own dominion, betrothed to another, also presumed to be in his own right, a King. As scholars and members of the high court, both Titus and Perscimmion are groomed to keep watch over the happenings within each quarry, as given jusrisdiction by the Asended Mastery to spectate freely throughout all lands, and as such; they often travel—often in pairs or groups. Titus and Perscimmion Persimmon Whatever. —have quickly departed, haveing spotted the King far out of bounds, to which the King quickly launches after these two Kingsmen in pursuit, and though their loyalty lies within no singular dictation, they somewhat begrudgingly agree it best to keep the King's secret, after he wearily explains to the men, as his friends and genuinely that he feels he has fallen truly in love with her. KING IV Titus! [Titus is annoyed and expecting there to be a fight] TITUS Mellow. (Chill, bro) KING IV Be bold, you! (If you have something to say, then say it now and let's duke it out.) TITUS Never—mellow I am, as are we. (Nah, I'm chillin. We cool.) (I'm good, he's good—we chillin.) PERCI Chaos, you've spelled it. (You've opened a can of worms, dude.) (You got us all fucked up.) (You fucked up.) KING IV I've spelled then many words For our wise, Nevermind before you found her waiting, Dusk was fallen And here you, cry out such a task- To have found her in waiting, Not I or heavy bound, But yet with lust, The breath of motherdom on her wicked truth The tied you have counted, For I wisked away with every since Your true intent, persist, I may. The King implies here that he's made many conscious choices and has been playing at this game as a King, to which that only other royalty might understand, the strife of making hard decisions in which case, others might be hurt— or even killed. He explains that he and this Queen have found common ground, confining in one another's understanding of hardship as leaders, And that their attraction to one other has grown from this trust —naturally, and out of control; as he sees her maternal prime has approached; he suggests that he means no harm at all, but urges the men to think about what they plan to do with the discovery of their possible affair—nearly asking “what exactly do you plan to do with your knowledge of this?” (Are you finna tell on me?) (Who you finna tell?) TITUS Now. (Yo.) (srsly?) [Titus is a bit pissed that the king would turn it around to imply that his knowledge of this secret could do more harm than the secret itself; he is quite visibly angry.] [Perci keeps the peace by holding his friend back.] PERCI Mellow. (Chill, bro.) KING IV You found for call my wants; Shallow, as it may My need ne'er far behind the broken, Does call to you, brother, And you also, For I widow in thought, My fury (I'm a man; I have needs— I often put my needs as a King behind that of ny entire Kindgom—you're both men; so you know how it is; the feelings I have can't be ignored—it's primal.) A tear. [sarcasm. He's suggesting “cry about it.” Or “why don't I believe you?” Or, blatently—] (Cry me a river!) A tear, you ask But one does not cry as I seek Fair judgement and ridicule, Severed heart I, Come now awakened in To her, A dusk had come, Though night was golden A dawn arose with fury in my bosom Mine love awakened [He implies to lose his composure would show weakness—the King also implies here that he does, however, feel horrible about it; that he expects to be reviled, killed, or even dethroned—that his heart has truly broken as he has discovered something new in him; he has fallen in love with her. That after spending the night with her, he had become anew.] TITUS Not love, but—[he begins to argue that it is only lust] PERCI Seldom! (Yeah right/ that's rare.) KING IV Love, I bear you mine honest hands, The wilted rose, Blood upon thornes, Truly marks I who has come To wake in her (I'm telling you, I'm really in love with her.) [the king pleas that painstakingly so, his love is pure and true] PERCI Then. (Whatever.) [Titus gives up and agrees] TITUS So, I mellow. (Okay, okay.) [finally Percimmon speaks his mind] (Or whatever the fuck his actual name is) ::||pause. By now it ought to be obvious to you, dear reader and listener, that I am in fact, dictating this—translating these things for you sent from some faraway higher realm, for the sake of the art and with the purpose of your understanding my true intentions, as fellow human and as a writer, to live in the way I desire, honestly and wholeheartedly, without further interruption to my sanctity and wellness, in peace— Until my departure from this world. Does that quite say it? I don't know. Whatever. ::||Unpause. PERCI (By the way apparently some decendant or incarnation of the God Percius, son of Zeus) PERCIUS PERSCIMMION SIMMEON PERSCIMMON PERCI (You get it, right?) Mits infinite, And for the sake of this concept, Let's just consider this— All the same fucking guy, Or at the very least, Very closely interacting versions of this same guy Within these parallels Of time and space Wherein these worlds And realms Exist. Okay? Ok. Good. Proceeding. [this dude's pretty much been quiet the whole time but now is a little tiffed himself.] PERCI Did you fear for not The death that approaches, For now you call I, And our brethren here, For siren had sounded to wake, You in the light and there destined to love By blood is bound, And yet you wait, here now on high Calling to us, havingbeen hound by light, Whether you did, or did not forsought Come as foreign And leave again Worried, feather feared at all That by this blood, you too shall weep, To reap again what you sow Or shall they say, As punishment, For cause just binds?? (Did it bother you at all to think that not only you might get killed, but get us all killed?! Now you're asking us to lie for you— because all of a sudden, you're in love with this woman; a blood oath set in stone, and her having been betrothed— and here you come, running after us, after it finally occurs to you—whether you meant for it to happen or just “didn't think about it”, went all this way just to fuck shit up (complicate things), then come back home freaking out, running around like a chicken with your head cut off (acting like a crazy bird about to get eaten) saying that, whoever has to hurt or be killed over all this, you feel really bad about— but overall, know you what's coming to you, and you know, and I know, and he knows that we'll probably just all be better off not telling anybody about this…at least for now… but eventually, someone's bound to find out about this, and the less people “know”, the better…right?) KING IV Now. (Yeah.) TITUS I second. (I agree.) KING IV Here, too, I second, I third, even for not I as you, And you both as I, And how, The sun has set upon us, Why, death is sure to come As I rise, But give me no mercy, this Mellow now, I only beg What here has transpired Silence here, Between myself and I— Brethren. (So we all agree that it's better that this all just stays between us.) [the king implies that either way the truth will probably come out and he will die for it, but for now, the secret is best kept between them, with the understanding that they too could be killed in the vengeance and damage of the truth being told sooner than later.] Steady ye we all sigh as one. (I'm basically you.) / (if any of us go down, we all go down.) Steady ye as my death is yours. (We are one) (we're fucked, but whatever I guess.) Steady be my tongue as forced to lie with sacred heart true love does lie. (I hate having to do this but my love is true) So be it. (Fine) So, then. (Very well then.) Honor thy pardon. (Thank you guys.) Off, then. (Just …go.) (Get out) [the king quickly vanishes into the night] Damn, that took me longer to decode than I actually spent writing it. You—wrote this? I… Whatever. [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

We're going somewhere else. What does that mean? Somewhere else! You know why I hate you, Fallon? Fuck. I gotta find Fallon. Places [The Festival Project ™] I should know why… —because you are good at everything you do. I always was. What can I say? Nothing. Shut up. That's your job. I don't have a job. Oh, that's right. That's right. [Fallon seems slightly intimidated, but nevertheless, cocky—bold and arrogant as always—and of course— —smug. ] {Enter The Multiverse} The older the wiser— The bigger the better The taller the whiter The richer the further you are From the life that you want Typically, typically Oh, there you go again For Richer for poorer Old Haunts with old souls it's, No wonder you dissaolved on the Revolving door When it's all the same concious thought That you walked all of your dogs To the mall in The same four thoughts The same It must be getting dark The souls are seeming more Forgotton Spirits wandering Here are you now Here I Nigga drinking money No one ever noticed We must be one in the same, Since I ain't g/have /give a damn God, thank you God. I told you, I love New York. Who doesn't? The poor… —Broken. On God, On train All four On one On God 4 train 6 stops Cause I got Money Power cut off I just came back from Whole Foods market I hate shopping Fact Artifacts Don't ever stop recording Even when you want to I might look broke But I got money. I'm worth it Dot dot dot doe Don't keep me waiting I'm wanting to hear from you Wading, wading. I'm fading away I'm fading away I am fading away, l— I am fading away I see a whole ass love story. Super synthesis you ought to draw that Sitting right across the devil Sitting right across the four corridors of summer sworn nonsense I wrote two novels four summers I took two photos, on vortex I took two sworn oaths, far side Master, mortar Brick and— I love New York now, But order, My far mind Gone in the antelope Wind and the demon ways On, but you severed this tie I loved him But could not Quite trust Blue eyes, God I love him. Two minds now, One goes the course, One goes the other route Same and semi, Sometimes never Someday never comes, When you can't stop crying On God, I lost you Ten minutes to count Ten minutes of fame, And again it all adds up The stopwatch loops around again as if Nothing ever mattered to keep track of I found you here, The way it went I left you there And then, infinite I caught a glimpse as if Something had shined across my back There, master, Same slave I always reckoned I never Coming from others, Therin just a wince Just a tip for a chance Of harsh breaths I recon still No-ordinary-love.co How much is that gonna hurt Like a lot l'm assuming Same as always Same as always ‘ Same as always Are you ever on time, or just— Kind of by it? Are you biased or just a front for more wartime? Warcrimes. Let's bury that in a shallow place of my mind. The deeper the whole, the root it had gave The shower of shame and grandiosity Wishing you were there Wishing you were here Wishing you were For me Out, the arrow. It will by now come around again Arousing shaeffer, nearer aggrandized Which one are you now! My story has come One another Again Both things Never entered Never shattered I am now We are as one Again as the other The shame in your heroine Give God a hard shout; Are you sure about coming forward, or not inbound Shattered Collapsed Chaos in the wind Never made it home on time Are you There you are in a straight line Come now, give wind Give something other than Your love for once Give money Bet it all, God. Who you want it's an apostrophe I ain't got no apology Apology I ain't got no apology Apology —Atrocity. —Philosophy. —Psychology. Delicate staccatos at the stop sign || Cross the walk to superstardom {Enter The Multiverse} Man, I don't know why I fuck with you. You're like the Drake of comedians. Drake is the Drake of comedians. Faded parallels Cross intersections of time collapsing Infrequent mantras Gates of Heaven open, And then closed again Nearer and then father Calling out to no one Home you nearer, nothing Push you back with tied hands I swear The ring finger on him A lie like Pinocchio nose And every time he think about me It grows back I put my head in a noose, Dueceas, confusion Loose lips and bruises Just remember, I didn't choose this You did Black boy fly, Your mom says hi Every time I see a motherfucker wanna cry Almost, Still don't want clout I just moved out Alcohol, boo— mow I mean meow. I'm a cat I called you ten times. Call me back! Sitting waiting on your text It's been 48 hours, I'm still undressed Ach— Uh, bless you S on my chest, finna guess you Mister ain't been here since Scissors sisters dismissed you, Seven thru mirrors and dozens of dreams since They scream “Illuminati” And I scream at them: “It's just a test!” Pressed resin, No past, future no present Pressed resin, Still a desert No past, no future no present Pressed resin. Run for president, I'm still a resident, I‘m just kidding Tats on my head, Piss on my grave This shit is in grave danger No room for nobody but a baby in this manger If this major gets wagers and disc players From gang banging I ain't playing with you, bitch It's still a robbery, I'm sorry, B. He says she's said. I got legs on my Pegasus I never said whoever was better than The others is Listen; This answer to this, Lies in its simplicity Lies and wrists bleeding, Secrets and he gets envious Of others, When he reads this, Jesus Simple, simplicity is it I get seeing and pleading, But needed to Reject, eh Eject Synthesis, infinite, It gets into different subjects And sees itself, Remembered in images Simplicity, isn't Isn't, religious, Per Say, Or needless to be said Freedom and KLLY F—ck Regis! You know what he just—!? Niggas. I'm kidding, it's RIP to him— Isn't it? If it wasn't, it is and I just announced it How do you pronounce this? (C'cxell Soleïl) Just write me a check and if it doesn't bounce— I'll think about it. Man, where the fuck is this train at? “The Great Adventures of Uptown A” I promised myself this morning I would just lay there I hate her, but more I hate Being here Or being there, or Going anywhere without a hat on I l l squatted in the street just to shag on em PIP! That's what his name was! Finally, Christ. I thought I‘d lost her! And Ping was his friend's name. Jesus Christ. Must have been important Must have. Jesus Christ. “Why I Hate Union Square” By CC Stone & [Why u love upon were] Ahem. (Why I Love Union Square) By Blū Tha Gürū They said I hadn't done this before IOU oh zomdond had Whatever I was trying to write getting off the train was lost on that day. Surely. {Enter The Multiverse} Tina taddle tale… Sudakis. So wait. Which one is Chris Parnell. The other one. So then. Um. Wait, Which one is Jerry in Rick and Morty. Are you serious? No, get out. I get them confused. What. Are you serious. Same SNL cast. Right? Or close. FISHSTICKS. Liz, get in here. Doctor Spaceman FloydGetawayfromme There, I fixed it. Oh. You dirty dog you. Is that what I am? Worse than me. Oh, come on. Something not the same. I swear to god. Just let him win. Alright. Ok. But—for what? Just let him win, or you're gonna regret it. I regret this. I regret it. Sometimes I'm so drunk I'm stone cold sober. Sometimes I'm so stone, I can hardly lift weights, Lift my own weight, that is I'm heavy as hell in here Given angel wings And i'm green, I think But I've never been well, then Well then I love you. Okay. Shamrocks and idols, Wagons and chariots, Still suicidal and Everything wreaks of him The reminisce of the writing Remember who the wife is, I'm still so suicidal, I could have carved this eye into my head myself Instead of his Regrets again Some medicine and stomach man, Pain is easy Love is hard, So suicidal, I forgot not to fall in love at all With superstars Or cosmic stardust Nothing stars at all Besides the sun of ours Oh, why God? The truth? You tell me the truth! Okay, but then you've gotta prove it. Sold Solve the equation Math?! I I like math You, too, then. Titus! Mellow. Be bold, you! Never—mellow I am, as are we. Chaos, you've spelled it. I've spelled then many words For our wise, Nevermind before you found her waiting, Dusk was fallen And here you, cry out such a task- To have found her in waiting, Not I or heavy bound, But yet with lust, The breath of motherdom on her wicked truth The tied you have counted, For I wisked away with every since Your true intent, persist, I may. Now. Mellow. You found for call my wants; Shallow, as it may My need ne'er far behind the broken, Does call to you, brother, And you also, For I widow in thought, My fury A tear. A tear, you ask But one does not cry as I seek Fair judgement and ridicule, Severed heart I, Come now awakened in To her, A dusk had come, Though night was golden A dawn arose with fury in my bosom Mine love awakened Not love, but Seldom! Love, I bear you mine honest hands, The wilted rose, Blood upon thornes, Truly marks I who has come To wake in her Then. So, I mellow. Did you fear for not The death that approaches, For now you call I, And our m brethren here, For siren had sounded to wake, You in the light and there destined to love By blood is bound, And yet you wait, here now on high Calling to us, havingbeen hound by light, Whether you did, or did not forsought Come as foreign And leave again Worried, feather feared at all That by this blood, you too shall weep, To reap again what you sow Or shall they say, As punishment, For cause just binds?? Now. I second. Here, too, I second, I third, even for not I as you, And you both as I, And how, The sun has set upon us, Why, death is sure to come As I rise, But give me no mercy, this Mellow now, I only beg What here has transpired Silence here, Between myself and I— Brethren. Steady ye we all sigh as one. Steady ye as my death is yours. Steady be my tongue as forced to lie with sacred heart true love does lie. So be it. So, then. Honor thy pardon. Off, then. [The King quickly vanishes into the night.] [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. We're going somewhere else. What does that mean? Somewhere else! You know why I hate you, Fallon? Fuck. I gotta find Fallon. Places [The Festival Project ™] I should know why… —because you are good at everything you do. I always was. What can I say? Nothing. Shut up. That's your job. I don't have a job. Oh, that's right. That's right. [Fallon seems slightly intimidated, but nevertheless, cocky—bold and arrogant as always—and of course— —smug. ] {Enter The Multiverse} The older the wiser— The bigger the better The taller the whiter The richer the further you are From the life that you want Typically, typically Oh, there you go again For Richer for poorer Old Haunts with old souls it's, No wonder you dissaolved on the Revolving door When it's all the same concious thought That you walked all of your dogs To the mall in The same four thoughts The same It must be getting dark The souls are seeming more Forgotton Spirits wandering Here are you now Here I Nigga drinking money No one ever noticed We must be one in the same, Since I ain't g/have /give a damn God, thank you God. I told you, I love New York. Who doesn't? The poor… —Broken. On God, On train All four On one On God 4 train 6 stops Cause I got Money Power cut off I just came back from Whole Foods market I hate shopping Fact Artifacts Don't ever stop recording Even when you want to I might look broke But I got money. I'm worth it Dot dot dot doe Don't keep me waiting I'm wanting to hear from you Wading, wading. I'm fading away I'm fading away I am fading away, l— I am fading away I see a whole ass love story. Super synthesis you ought to draw that Sitting right across the devil Sitting right across the four corridors of summer sworn nonsense I wrote two novels four summers I took two photos, on vortex I took two sworn oaths, far side Master, mortar Brick and— I love New York now, But order, My far mind Gone in the antelope Wind and the demon ways On, but you severed this tie I loved him But could not Quite trust Blue eyes, God I love him. Two minds now, One goes the course, One goes the other route Same and semi, Sometimes never Someday never comes, When you can't stop crying On God, I lost you Ten minutes to count Ten minutes of fame, And again it all adds up The stopwatch loops around again as if Nothing ever mattered to keep track of I found you here, The way it went I left you there And then, infinite I caught a glimpse as if Something had shined across my back There, master, Same slave I always reckoned I never Coming from others, Therin just a wince Just a tip for a chance Of harsh breaths I recon still No-ordinary-love.co How much is that gonna hurt Like a lot l'm assuming Same as always Same as always ‘ Same as always Are you ever on time, or just— Kind of by it? Are you biased or just a front for more wartime? Warcrimes. Let's bury that in a shallow place of my mind. The deeper the whole, the root it had gave The shower of shame and grandiosity Wishing you were there Wishing you were here Wishing you were For me Out, the arrow. It will by now come around again Arousing shaeffer, nearer aggrandized Which one are you now! My story has come One another Again Both things Never entered Never shattered I am now We are as one Again as the other The shame in your heroine Give God a hard shout; Are you sure about coming forward, or not inbound Shattered Collapsed Chaos in the wind Never made it home on time Are you There you are in a straight line Come now, give wind Give something other than Your love for once Give money Bet it all, God. Who you want it's an apostrophe I ain't got no apology Apology I ain't got no apology Apology —Atrocity. —Philosophy. —Psychology. Delicate staccatos at the stop sign || Cross the walk to superstardom {Enter The Multiverse} Man, I don't know why I fuck with you. You're like the Drake of comedians. Drake is the Drake of comedians. Faded parallels Cross intersections of time collapsing Infrequent mantras Gates of Heaven open, And then closed again Nearer and then father Calling out to no one Home you nearer, nothing Push you back with tied hands I swear The ring finger on him A lie like Pinocchio nose And every time he think about me It grows back I put my head in a noose, Dueceas, confusion Loose lips and bruises Just remember, I didn't choose this You did Black boy fly, Your mom says hi Every time I see a motherfucker wanna cry Almost, Still don't want clout I just moved out Alcohol, boo— mow I mean meow. I'm a cat I called you ten times. Call me back! Sitting waiting on your text It's been 48 hours, I'm still undressed Ach— Uh, bless you S on my chest, finna guess you Mister ain't been here since Scissors sisters dismissed you, Seven thru mirrors and dozens of dreams since They scream “Illuminati” And I scream at them: “It's just a test!” Pressed resin, No past, future no present Pressed resin, Still a desert No past, no future no present Pressed resin. Run for president, I'm still a resident, I‘m just kidding Tats on my head, Piss on my grave This shit is in grave danger No room for nobody but a baby in this manger If this major gets wagers and disc players From gang banging I ain't playing with you, bitch It's still a robbery, I'm sorry, B. He says she's said. I got legs on my Pegasus I never said whoever was better than The others is Listen; This answer to this, Lies in its simplicity Lies and wrists bleeding, Secrets and he gets envious Of others, When he reads this, Jesus Simple, simplicity is it I get seeing and pleading, But needed to Reject, eh Eject Synthesis, infinite, It gets into different subjects And sees itself, Remembered in images Simplicity, isn't Isn't, religious, Per Say, Or needless to be said Freedom and KLLY F—ck Regis! You know what he just—!? Niggas. I'm kidding, it's RIP to him— Isn't it? If it wasn't, it is and I just announced it How do you pronounce this? (C'cxell Soleïl) Just write me a check and if it doesn't bounce— I'll think about it. Man, where the fuck is this train at? “The Great Adventures of Uptown A” I promised myself this morning I would just lay there I hate her, but more I hate Being here Or being there, or Going anywhere without a hat on I l l squatted in the street just to shag on em PIP! That's what his name was! Finally, Christ. I thought I‘d lost her! And Ping was his friend's name. Jesus Christ. Must have been important Must have. Jesus Christ. “Why I Hate Union Square” By CC Stone & [Why u love upon were] Ahem. (Why I Love Union Square) By Blū Tha Gürū They said I hadn't done this before IOU oh zomdond had Whatever I was trying to write getting off the train was lost on that day. Surely. {Enter The Multiverse} Tina taddle tale… Sudakis. So wait. Which one is Chris Parnell. The other one. So then. Um. Wait, Which one is Jerry in Rick and Morty. Are you serious? No, get out. I get them confused. What. Are you serious. Same SNL cast. Right? Or close. FISHSTICKS. Liz, get in here. Doctor Spaceman FloydGetawayfromme There, I fixed it. Oh. You dirty dog you. Is that what I am? Worse than me. Oh, come on. Something not the same. I swear to god. Just let him win. Alright. Ok. But—for what? Just let him win, or you're gonna regret it. I regret this. I regret it. Sometimes I'm so drunk I'm stone cold sober. Sometimes I'm so stone, I can hardly lift weights, Lift my own weight, that is I'm heavy as hell in here Given angel wings And i'm green, I think But I've never been well, then Well then I love you. Okay. Shamrocks and idols, Wagons and chariots, Still suicidal and Everything wreaks of him The reminisce of the writing Remember who the wife is, I'm still so suicidal, I could have carved this eye into my head myself Instead of his Regrets again Some medicine and stomach man, Pain is easy Love is hard, So suicidal, I forgot not to fall in love at all With superstars Or cosmic stardust Nothing stars at all Besides the sun of ours Oh, why God? The truth? You tell me the truth! Okay, but then you've gotta prove it. Sold Solve the equation Math?! I I like math You, too, then. Titus! Mellow. Be bold, you! Never—mellow I am, as are we. Chaos, you've spelled it. I've spelled then many words For our wise, Nevermind before you found her waiting, Dusk was fallen And here you, cry out such a task- To have found her in waiting, Not I or heavy bound, But yet with lust, The breath of motherdom on her wicked truth The tied you have counted, For I wisked away with every since Your true intent, persist, I may. Now. Mellow. You found for call my wants; Shallow, as it may My need ne'er far behind the broken, Does call to you, brother, And you also, For I widow in thought, My fury A tear. A tear, you ask But one does not cry as I seek Fair judgement and ridicule, Severed heart I, Come now awakened in To her, A dusk had come, Though night was golden A dawn arose with fury in my bosom Mine love awakened Not love, but Seldom! Love, I bear you mine honest hands, The wilted rose, Blood upon thornes, Truly marks I who has come To wake in her Then. So, I mellow. Did you fear for not The death that approaches, For now you call I, And our m brethren here, For siren had sounded to wake, You in the light and there destined to love By blood is bound, And yet you wait, here now on high Calling to us, havingbeen hound by light, Whether you did, or did not forsought Come as foreign And leave again Worried, feather feared at all That by this blood, you too shall weep, To reap again what you sow Or shall they say, As punishment, For cause just binds?? Now. I second. Here, too, I second, I third, even for not I as you, And you both as I, And how, The sun has set upon us, Why, death is sure to come As I rise, But give me no mercy, this Mellow now, I only beg What here has transpired Silence here, Between myself and I— Brethren. Steady ye we all sigh as one. Steady ye as my death is yours. Steady be my tongue as forced to lie with sacred heart true love does lie. So be it. So, then. Honor thy pardon. Off, then. [The King quickly vanishes into the night.] [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Today I found out that I never lost my mind at all. I found pictures of my car the day I bought it Not a dent, not a scratch; I found the pictures of the condition the apartment used to be in when I returned from work—I found the pictures with my friends that reminded me that I had once had them—pictures with my baby reminding me of how much I loved him and that I had cared for him well. I had almost believed my abuser's own accounts of what had happened to me over my own, because as it so seemed the world had chosen to side with him— but indeed, Google images had the entire story written for me from start to finish, and though each picture was well worth over one thousand words— the years had been documented well enough in photos to show that supacree was indeed a hero after all. —and I missed her. I straight up told you I control this robot bitch. It was Frankincense, and not sage And so all of a sudden The trip to Manhattan Became a field day True colors are shown Blue eyes have never been meaner, and I mean It don't matter what you look like— It's the inside that can't be trusted. Said. Don't make me lie to me Like I could lie to you Instead to calm a lover Never half sought But left upon the doorstep If someone allowable, Better yet, Heretell exciting news And distance captured Further between us than there ever was The mind that spoke, The dusk that only choked on Solomon, hart for words Lie to a friend And lie to the mother, a fraud And a scandal A cap and a gas can Remember the cap? How could you So broke the only words once spoke on were mortar No brick at all so the whole wall shattered Kellogg for breakfast brands, Spent seeing and scatterbrained, You are now mine, As time has fallen on to us, For our lands had not been yourn at her tides For nothing washed ashore but dollars Dirty by the hands of hatred lasts, four score years, Ride broke, Sun lasts, Leverage not, star bound Hurt I none Said disembarked, shadow, Come now, dear shadowland I am puppet master, And also hang upon strings, I Am. Can somebody, Anybody tell me why Every time I see that poster I almost start crying. Not just a little— But a lot. Not so much an ugly cry, But a mean cry— As if I lost something— And how I didn't mean for any of this to happen But it did anyway, And I still don't know all what for. There must still be something left to write about him Or something Because —someone tell me why— Anybody at all Tell me why Even though I don't want to I still see little pieces of that in everything As if they belong to maybe like, The pieces of me I lost, or something; And tell me why After like, All these years or something all of a sudden [its] So beautiful to me. So goddamn beautiful- That suddenly— —I don't know why— I don't see anything else. Anybody? {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

'kalypso' Collection 2.1 'appearences' Track 02. 'kalypso' Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū [Hurrying backstage and hunched over, off screen and out of sight of the audience, this man is clearly on the brink of a nervous breakdown.] I'm gonna puke I'm gonna vomit. Hey! I'm gonna puke, I'm gonna vomit, I'm gonna hurl. Hey. Oh God. Are you okay? He stiffens up, standing straight and regaining his composure almost immediately, as if nothing had happened. Yeah. Everything's fine. Are you sure? You're crazy. This is simple. Okay. It's not FAIR. Nothing is FAIR. All is fair in love and war!! Well, this is neither— it's TV. “Telephoto” ‘Teleform' And ‘Telesynthesis' Who here can explain the difference? A girl leans over from slinking back in her desk to her classmate—they are both wearing sunglasses which seems odd, considering that they are obviously indoors; the lecture hall, as vast as it may be, can seem as such an intimate classroom—the students here have been studying as a class together here for so long that their familiarity with each other is much like that of a large family—however—very large; there are thousands of them, actually, in total, divided by sects into guilder chapters, designated by speciality and type, each having been given specific assignments, relegated by their gifts. I have to tell you something. Can it wait? Probably. —because she's going to pick on m— Cecile. Actually, it's— (Sighing deflatedly) (With sarcasm) Glorious Agony. She slinks back into her seat, slouching See. Your anticipation is distinguished. …Thank you. That was at worst a compliment and at best a suggestion to minimize and regulate your frequency as to remain undetectable, if not to be synchronized with the rest of your classmates—thoughtfully so. Rather thoughtless, actually. Well think of it— and speaking of such; Telesynthesis: Telesynthesis is to adapt one's functional vibration and frequency to match the commonly shared vibration at which the majority of conscious inhabitants in one's immediate field, environment, or space. And—Teleform To materialize within any given space the perception of a shared reality within one's given realm and or secondary dimension. Good. Thank you, Cecielle. Actually, it's— Now— Moving along. The teacher again begins to lecture, as the girl once again slowly begins to lean over towards cecil , still frustrated from her interaction with the professor. Pssssst. Are you serious? {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

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. 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 bone s apes against the railing; I've three children, but you'd not know I; I'm holding in cereal, cleaning out stuff for cereal boxes m, 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 Imm 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 matters 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 Elmo's 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. Don't come round here! I will fuck your socks off— and sell them back to you! The sex was free; But the socks will cost you. But—they're my socks. Were and could be again…for a price. Goddamn. Yes, Goddamn indeed. BROH. JOHN OLIVER IS MAD BRITISH. AVADAKAVARAH! I TOLD YOU, I WAS A WITCH DOCTOR! WHATEVER! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A LATE NIGHT HOST! EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB. THAT'S A NIGHT JOB! EXPECTO-PA– POTTER!!! WHAT IN THE [BEEP}! YOU'RE A WIZARD?! OF COURSE I'M A BLOODY WIZARD–WHAT THE HELL DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU?! ANOTHER LATE NIGHT HOST–OR WHATEVER! “OR WHATEVER” I'M A WIZARD– HARRY. What the [bleep] EVERYBODY HAS A DAY JOB ™ Please, by all means, Keep your pretty white girlfriend. I want to see those eyes come through What a handsome couple. They are the scariest thing ever. Let them be, then; Out to be fun to watch. I can't listen to Drake on my loud speakers bro. Not—like loud, man. That shit makes me feel like a whole ass basic black girl. True story. Sometimes you gotta distance yourself from the “yassss” birds. I saw this one comedian performing— Well, I think he was a comedian. He wasn't funny to me but, He had like 710K followers And he was really really pretty. I had to notice that, because as imm listening to him preform, about 30 minutes into the video— I was waiting to see if he would make me actually laugh— He didn't— But— As I was trying to figure out how he has 710K followers And has not made me laugh, not once I start paying closer attention to him— And I realize; “Oh” He is major good looking. At first I didn't notice— I like white guys— so, Of course, At first glance I'm like “Hey brother!” You know, like “That's my son!” I'm like “Yeah, make me laugh, boy.” But he didn't And then as I start to wonder Like, Why or how he has so large of a following I notice he's very beautiful. And I mean, like mad gorgeous. Like ideally— I'm like “Oh” and as I'm realizing this, He's saying the punchline to a “joke,” And as he's saying it, I realize that way in the back, Like you can hear that they're in the back Cause the camera is in the center, And like half of the audience is behind the film crew , and you can hear these girls are in the way— Like in the way back Like in the way, way back, You can hear like a pack of ratchets— Yes— these must be his die hards— His squad. Not like his homies or anything, but like The Groupies. You know. The hopefuls. He's got this group of black girls like hackling in the back, like clapping hard at all his punches like “YAS!” “SAY IT!” And it was funny because his reaction to these girls was like “I'm—not in control of this.” “RIGHT!” “SAY LESS!” I'm like, Oh, I see how that works, now. {Enter The Multiverse} And even I Just want it to fucking stop So it can just be over with Oh why, Not another fucking lover boy After all of them Oh no— But this one's worse; Maybe even the worst of all of them Because as I exit my prison cell, I find this dude behind bars— Maybe even happily. And now I'm out into the world Supposedly free— But still trapped with this mentality As if whatever I had before— Maybe even possibly the worst, lowest existence At least for me, Was somehow Better —can anyone tell me why? Not even God, besides the obvious point that perhaps The Devil is in the mind; He likes to arouse, To play games, And tricks And I, Myself Perhaps Have fallen prey, Not to become victim to this; But a player in the game. A pawn. AND WHY HAS NOBODY DRAWN ON THESE YET, THEY'VE BEEN UP FOR SEEMINGLY forever and always And this nigga has Not one snaggletooth No graffiti tettoos No fucking sharpie lip injections. Nothing. Do you remember that story how Johnny Depp hated his face up on a billboard— So he went rogue and painted over it? Yeah? So? What if it's like that. I don't think it's like that. —I think it's the opposite of that, actually. And if anything— If I see not a one defacing of these posters And they are everywhere If anything, Jimmy Fallon is the guy With a spray bottle of acetone And a fucking microfiber rag Wiping that shit off In his free time WHAT FREE TIME? You tell me. But first— Somebody— Anybody tell me Why this happened. At all. Anybody? Somebody. C'mon. {Enter The Multiverse} If you'll excuse me, I actually have to get going. Where are you going? I don't know: I just— JOHNNY DEPP must be going. Have to. he does not know, however, that he is stuck in a movie—which has no definitive ending. Well actually, This movie has like— 30 alternative endings Wait, 30 alternative endings? 30-40 Woah. That's nuts. Which makes it even cooler. If you ever blow my mind again like that, I'll actually kill you. I've been watching a lot of LMN Lifetime movie network—Why?! Because this shit is hilarious! Isn't it! YO. This shit is PIZZA It IS. What? Why is it pizza? Cause it's not pizza If it's not CHEEZY. ahaha. While traditional Thai pineapple fried rice has tomatoes within the vegetable medley, I opted instead for this recipe to use a sauced red pepper tomato sauce glaze to top the dish, for a new school American twist and flare. ½ cup chopped mushrooms ½ cup scallions ¼ cup white onion ½ cup red onion ¼ cup Pasilla pepper ½ cup red pepper cup white onions ½ cup yellow pepper ¾ cup green pepper 1 cup fresh basil 1 cup fresh pineapple UmBRIDGE. What. NO, Um— A bridge appears out of nowhere. lol why do you have no hair? I dunno; mate. Wizards. Don't go there— You're fired. I beg your pardon Please, don't beg. You are officially decommissioned as headmaster! This is the minister of magic Is that what it was. I guess, I don't know; I'm just along for the STEWIE. WHAT MA, WHAT. TEN AND TWO!! You know what, let me drive. Oh, finally—stewie has his own aplorable Boston accent, (hybrid proper English, of course. ) What does that even sound like Strange. The lady working at Trader Joe's was so beautiful to me, I had to tell her. I loved her Locs, I loved her glasses I loved her accent. So I just had to ask where she's from— I do that sometimes. If I really love someone's accent, I have to ask where their from to try to get there one day; So I asked her, “Where are you from?” And she says “Haiti,” And I was like “Wow, cool” And then I thought about it for a second, And I asked “Do you ever miss home” And she just laughed I was like “Oh, guess not” Some context I had been homesick lately, But I grew up in Alaska And I consider myself from California, Having spent most of my adult life there So coming to New York has been like Living on the other side of the world; And sometimes that sucks. But sometimes, and I have realized that wherever you're from, To get to New York is sometimes a blessing. She didn't even say yes or no, She just laughed. Now I'm worried about Haiti. I was worried about it before; But now I'm like; “Do you miss home?” She's like “Hahaha” I'm like “Oh damn.” I count my blessings. So JOHNNY DEPP just like excuses himself, wanders out into the street, and then—? Yeah. And then what? I don't know yet, I'm kind of busy these days. “BUSY?!” BUSY DOING WHAT?! Beep boop. Eee—ooh. Beep—boop—boop. Yah-yah-yah— APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE I'll show you all my scars, huh This one, she look like the reaper That's my girl, You bet she a keeper Ya'll sleepin on us What Yeah What Yeah What You sleeping on us I been in this b'niss APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. It's not a bad song. Is it a song? Is it? idk I just like balls in my face, is all. ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. [A Classic red dodgeball beams Who is it? WILL FERREL Is that how you spell it? Why will Ferrel? Cause I Want it TO MAKE ME LAUGH. HOW. JUST DO IT. Oh. I get it: So my pain is funny to you? [FINE, IT'S SOMEONE ELSE] Oh shit, that guy did look just like Will Ferrel, but OLD. He's old now, ain't he? Wasn't he always? [FINE] CUT. I QUIT. CUT TO: You and I, sir, have a longstanding arrangement. Would it be more comfortable to–sit? Yikes. (Whatever, we'll work on it.) [The Festiva– {Enter The Multiverse} I need a toothbrush to scrub my brain. I'm The lilly of the valley In the Belly of the beast I been swallowed by a whale I'm a whole damn story Woah I am the Lilly of the the valley I am the rider of the horse I am seeker of truth Writer of lines Sayer of lies (I might say a lie; But I just won't tell it) What is your deal with the devil. She knows I have a deal with ‘em. Well, the truth is— I have to turn ya! He's a good old country boy— From the simple south— A simple soul And they all believed him, word for word “I's born in New York” —he sounded assured. Gone, now, boy Go crack dat corn. Gone down south Go crack dat corn Gone, ol boy Go crack dat corn m —got no soul? Go crack dat corn. Aaaaghhh. I have a headache. why the fuck are you freaking out?! Because I don't know what I wrote. I must admit, There are things Where there should be no things There are springs Where there should be no springs There are strings Where there should be no strings And imm quite sure With no rules enforced —it's just a static cling Sort of thing OWW, my EYES. Nobody should have this much power. Nobody does. I don't get it. (I still don't understand why this happened.) He must have perfect genetics. Or something. THIS FOOL IS FIXING ME UP TO DIE!!!!! I AM THECRISCO QUEEN DIRTY NOT CLEAN WHAT CAN I SAY I LIKE GREASE MONEY EVERYDAY BANKROLL INCREASE DEEP FRY HIGH SUNNI BLŪ Yo VO. Ok— so sometimes things go shitty. Like, mad shitty. YOOOOO. My measurements are 34C, 24 waist, and 55 in height. I couldn't understand why a girl this perfect should have to be selling sex at all, But I supposed nowadays, all women were prostitutes in some sort of way. This one's 22 years old and 96 pounds Men are sick fucking creatures. Whose fucking child is this?! COME GET YOUR DAUGHTER. Although, you know—I get it. My mom bought a Mercedes in cash And I'm still in educational debt. I just now today realized. That could have been a college fund. But she wanted a Mercedes. It's okay that I'm a bit fucked up in the head. Something went terribly wrong. All and all, Myself and this perfect girl, Cost around the same For an entire night— But hey, I think she's low balling herself On the 24 hour special. That's an entire day of my time, That's at least 10K. ‍♀️ She has a perfect body and two eyes that are different colors, But I'm a literary genius. You don't need words to soothe your boner thiugh, Or show off at a black tie function, do you? A stroll on the red carpet, Or some opulent fucking 5-star charade. How much does she cost, I wonder? She says, “I also accept bitcoin, etherum, gold and silver.” On God, These fake lip hoes is robbin' niggas. Men are sick creatures though. “Here's my gold watch” Fucking gross. I cruise escort sites for entertainment, Having learned my value as a woman isn't the visual, Visceral thing men are usually looking for— No judgement, Because I've realized that if I too had a perfect body. I myself would be living in some kind of oppulent, prostitution fuck-hole, With everybody else in my generation, That didn't get married— And then, probably divorced. I realized a long time ago that this was the reason my mother Always hated my body more than I ever could have— which is fine, Because eventually I inherited this hatred. I could have eventually grown out of it— But she couldn't see that. I was a “nasty fat heifer” On her worst days, And now, Even on my best days— I still am. Nevermind that eventually my ex husband would Think of my hair as nappy, or That I actually did end up kind of sort of growing out of being A fat, nasty heifer— Kind of. But the fact that it's taken me the entirety of my life to realize my worth as a woman Would always be defined by that Of what a man idealized as “Worthy” Well, That in itself Gives me the dismissive ability To have days where I do nothing, But sit back, Cruising escort sites and shipping on Amazon for yoga mats, Wanting the experience of the world Without really being beautiful enough for it And waiting to fade Into the next lifetime. [All the black girls cost less Because they have to.] Men are sick creatures. They'll take a butterface, Ugly ass white girl Over a pretty one that's dark skinned And these are just The facts of life (So far.) Piper of Phoenix Valiant, bold, and brazen This woman, I love— In the wings for fortune, To honor, I love With wisdom, And aged like fine wine We all become I want body like Sofia But never met the real Rebecca. Yo. YO. Let's spend $60 o lip gloss. Okay. Hey. Ways crackin. I just bought a $12,000 mattress. Let's take a nap in it. Hey girl. Heeeeeeey. This yoga mat cost $200. That's fresh. You think THATS RICH?! Seems pretty rich to me. You can't get any of this stuff on Amazon. That's fucking psycho. These loafers? Uh uh. $2,000. For WAT. (Whispers) Eeel skiiiin. Gross! I'm HUNGRY Got grits, Ain't got no sugar. No butter— —ain't hurt nobody. Poverty is a whole damn show. Close the door On a broke ass bitch. Poverty is a whole damn story. Got no bucks for the Whole Foods market Shopping carts full of old ass garbage No reward For a woke ass artist I'm HUNGRY. I killed myself 3 times his morning. POOR SNOOP is still a whole ass G BET ON IT HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL RAP COVER -$15 BROKE WAYNE AINT HAVING IT CHRIS ROCK THE METRO TRAIN DRIVER is NOT FUNNY— (He's still a ladies man though.) LCD SYSTEM HOOGLI BOOGLI is the reason they fear us. HOOGLI BOOGLI IS THE BLACKEST BLACK THAT EVER BLACKED. UNLIKE NIGGLY NIGGA—he is NOT FRIENDLY. He is the stuff of nightmares. A world gone wrong. Two bloodshot eyes on a black

Damn. I really want to know if Dillon Francis has offspring yet. NO! Don't touch it! …it's—just a baby. You don't know! He could be dangerous! It's a baby! It's a multidimentional extraterrestrial mystic —baby— —baby! Exactly! Don't make me list the reason why and how this child should not be TOUCHED or tampered with. [the tiny Dillon Francis begins to cry] *gasp* *double gasps* *welling up* Oh, come on! No! Dont touch him! Did you find your prostitute yet? She's not a prostitute, it's a— Well this dimension's definition of a— Sandwhich? Don't mind if I do. *takes bite of sandwhich* … Hm??? Oh my GOD. EhYess… What is ON THIS? EhWhy would you take a bite of— TINA FEY?! Oh god, here it comes. TINA FEY! TINA FEY WHAT, FANGIRL. What?! I need to ask you something. Okay, but make it quick. I'm about to enjoy this sandwhich. Wait/m— No more waiting, actually. It's a hot sandwhich. Ew… You're ew! —a sandwhich without knowing what's in it. THE HOOLIGANS have tied what appears to be an innocent man to the train tracks— THE what did I call them again? The real versions Aren't they all real? Kind of. This isn't real. I agree. THE HOOLIGANS ARE SQUATTERS. EW. Right. Ey! Ey! Put him back in the jar! Why do you have a little man in a jar?! I'm saving it for something. Okay, so here's the thing about bass music Uh huh, I'm listening With dubstep, The wubz and the subs Hit with the kick, almost always— Which is why it sounds confusing, and weird But that's what makes it interesting; The trick is, Mixing these kicks and the wubs At different frequencies So you can hear both of them Clearly. Ohhhhhhhhh… Yeah. I see. Uh huh. I don't know how to do that. MEANWHILE: DAMN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE MAYA RUDOLPH?! THERES NO SUCH THING AS A FREE GIFTCARD! I TOLD YOU, I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT. It seemed almost fake— And probably was, for whatever reason, But the simple reminder That comedy Sometimes first begins as tragedy Came back to me When i saw a man in Manhattan Try to hail a taxi— And they just kept passing him by; Finally one stopped, And with relief, The guy says— “Finally, Jesus Christ!” Or something like that, And then as he goes to catch the taxi, It just speeds off, And he like, Threw a fit of rage as the walk sign turned on And the crowd of people I was walking with All just kind of Laughed. That was funny. That guy could be having the worst day ever— But God, that shit was hilarious. My superintendent is fucking weird and gross to me. Is he smoking in his car? Is that thy the alarm goes off every few minutes? What the fuck is wrong with him? Welcome to Funland I'm in the depths The chambers —the ritual. Damn! What is his pre show ritual?! I don't know. I don't want to know. well, someone ought to. A long nap. Aws. Then a short nap. …okay. Peanut butter jelly sandwhich. That seems normal. 12 of them. Oh. What. Damn. That's like 6 loaves of bread. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

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.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Want the dakota and I got it Fanning I deflated I'm like Peyton Manning Previously on {Enter The Multiverse} Season 6 DRAKE BELL enters DTLA smokeshop. NICK You know who that is, right? Before: Tell me she remembers High possibility she doesn't remember anything at all. Great. Also. A high chance— That she remembers everything. Oh! Like all of it. Even worse. That might be worse— —it might be better. But it isn't, Either way! We lose! Great. Good luck, Timmy! Who the fuck is Timmy? You are! What! Good luck. So he enters and exits— In two entirely seperate dimensions! Not even parallels. Not even close. In fact, Once he enters, The world he leaves behind is forever gone. Forever gone?! Woah! Woah! Except those other guys from Nickelodeon, Because they have a Time Machine. Wooh, Phew. That's good. Yes it is. Wait—we have a Time Machine? Yes. That's good. Wher THE FOXXXYBOXXX arrives. “the Foxy Box?!” No, the Foxxxy Boxxx What— What are you dickbags staring at. Nothing. Goddamn! Shut up! That is the sexiest Time Machine I've ever seen! Have you ever seen a Time Machine at all, before this? I—I don't know what I've seen before this. Whatever. I like your box. Shut up. I like your box, too… Shut up. Get in. Where are we going? I don't even care. To Wonderland! {Enter The Multiverse} The first one might not fly, but the second one's for sure a hit. I found out there was wax on my apples today for the first time, and I thought “well, that's gross. Counting cards, are we? Another writing assignment. They're all writing assignments… You were dead once— —or I will be soon. Your choice. (Up to you) It's always my choice. You don't have acknowledge us as ‘ghosts' It's just that— We are what we are. To speak without speaking To know without knowing Cut ties with it all— With it at all? It could be worth it, If the salamander ever speaks again? Well, you are alive, aren't you? Only at the wishing well. —last I checked, in chains I was. I wish I were a rockstar. Consider it granted, unless— Unless, what? You'd rather yourself a comedian. Why would I want that? Why wouldn't you? I went full screen for Whoopi Goldberg but absolutely died At gene wilder. You'd better not. How dare you, Severus? Why would you write something like this? But—why wouldn't I? I wonder if there's anything I can do to get rid of this wax— And then I thought, “Maybe I should just peel them” Then I thought, “Wax on Apples— Well that's un-apple-eal-ing” I was Wait, hold that thought It was a joke my was a joke that practically wrote itself, cause it's not a fucking joke, it's true. I could see it, but not hear it The words, music, The art, animated My fasting eyes were wise with time And love forever As if I am, As if I was — At once all things, But not at all. Could have been better. What happened yesterday? My spirit broke. Just fasted to acid I yawned when it dawned on me, I eat when I'm awful, I'd rot in my body For time and for all words, For forwards.c for four words I haven't been loved since The door closed On more curses. I haven't taken a time to be honest In heartthrobs— Four of them, really But after all, I've got my all stars. Come to find out, The first husband in five— We're just all four. I fell out of love with a punch— But I left all my stuff there. Wondering here and there Whether or not it was Okay, this is officially the weirdest thing that's ever happened in the nevermind, that was weirder I told you bro, you were in the Illuminati. IT WASNT ME. i didn't do it. WHAT IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO [HER] [HIM] —NOTHING. Great. !9/ I have to wash all my socks. No, your dick still sucks. what. sorry dude. Second yawn, now know I'm on one The glass door passed out the fast words With honors and ornaments Sing to get off of the wire We fly to get on to it —how it all works out in the end, (It was always a puzzle.) That's enough of the sermon, The sponge, —it's all masters and mistresses The sodom, the stop watch The pocket —I saw Eddie Murphy The wonderous web that I spun after all Was a fortune, a fountain, a father A figure A falcon Enough was enough —but it all just kept going (Like over and over) I just want a lover, Without all the falling (Not actually alice) I lost all my change And my passion Just using the bathroom —were we past that. I use helicopters for time travel Over the mountain I probably never came down And I never went back there. It was roped off. I'm a crossroads, But they're closed off, I d got obstacles Marvelous crocs I told you it was God! (But forgot that I was one) Fuck, I'm so fucked up. This, from the ark of the story m Is every thought I've yet to have But still we're the will of the words, Since it all I it automatic. I should have paused hours ago (He had cerebral palate ir autism) I should be back at the ranch, But I've still got this taste in my mouth I should really —remarkable crush— For an infinite love, I thought. There was Severus, But you mustn't react If not wearing a mask, Or else you'll be cast on a show, Not your own, But do you get your The mushrooms were made of squishy foam and I appreciated that. Factor in this rampant rapture For m the capsule l upon us The wildebeest walked over Arches Before he as pardoned I wonder what acid reacted to Carson, on honors I polished the ghost On the worst of the wrongs I'd not done yet Therefore, you are. On Halifax, Or ahalycon, For artifacts Or dinner dates I once mated with a bird And flew the coop, Not shortly after, But What in the fuck am I watching What the fuck YO. Nobody told me about this. You greedy bitch. I—yeah whatever. Which road shall you go Which road shall you take You have to move on Though you tremble. X quake Whatever, I'll keep that typo, I gotta finish this joke. I was reading this banana bread recipe1- Not because I don't know how to make banana bread. Banana bread is easy. I was just trying to figure out how to make it Without eggs And without baking soda —you know, for texture. So I google this recipe, And I don't know what made me actually click on the recipe. — The rabbit has human hands. —I don't . Yeah, sometimes it's best to leave them in the mystery, Leave “them” Who is “them”? I am alone! …you were always alone. Okay, Or is it a donkey? What in the fuck? —-Oh, nevermind, that's me. I'm gonna want that “air trumpet. “ Return to the land of mirrors And “why are you still here's” They say the fame changes you I think we really are all that The time and the wise And the wicked The nine mirror cycles The sons of the songs you wrote All the the god and the sun you are Goddamn it, Just finish the joke! (You should finish me off first.) So I click o. This recipe Here we are counting cards again… YOU DID THIS IN ON PURPOSE, Are you serious, I did this in “post” Shut the fuck up, you didn't edit that video yourself —I didn't even shoot it, Aha. “The Art of the— —but which Alice is Alice. IT WASNT ME. The joke's not as funny after all this. (Not my fault, it's automatic. ) No, there's no ‘Nothing' In here, We all thought it was over, Then then I wondered How to old it all in Blow out the candles, Come over, The wonderful world of — You know, I can't see now, I'm hearing my faults— Are you sure it wasn't over. Would I forget you if it weren't for a word To remind me which part of I you are Simple sameness I am hungry, But the day was undaunting I was almost over it Now back to nothing— Since I belong there. There was no book four before. I should keep metronomes and impartial clocks Not for timekeeping, But soundbathing Something about it tells me to drown out my sorrows With cellibacy And alcohol It all come back to haunt you When you have a daughter— Now doesn't it? How does it go? It goes The heart screams I've got to go home But the head doesn't want to The soul cries for someone to hold it Outside of the body The water went up, Then went down Till we ran out of all of it —I was just making a mockery Of my own mother. (I was aborted.) You might let that cat out of the bag. The recipe started, Here we are in a house of cards And it all falls down Or goes up in flames Oh, to love the fire, Though I'm so tired I would write For the times If I was Inspired Shift the subject Life the veil, And break the worth wall Break the curse Or write the wrath of karma Shopping malls And quarter horses, Blow up dolls And mattresses, Perfect persons, Sayers, Singers, dancers Character actresses, Theatre dictations You see the same, I saw, I went It's all one column now (The middle) The ensemble was fireworks And wellbeing For all the struggle The clock struck minus one At unimportant. —The facts. I took priority for phone calls And piety for beings of dignity Honorary, further off then comfort Just a world away Or are you being Suffered, or sufferable? Surfaces for surfboards— Words of will for honeycombs And gingerbread for Anastasia Sure Google, But it was “Amistad” Whatever that was. I could have figured you were bigger than interesting Never would have guessed We'd have it for us eating on the cardboard Cutouts Matchbox offerings From dawn until sunset Porpoises, Toilets and Gold watches When will it work? When you sing what you want to At will With your heart And above all the offers Took love over money I'm 5 minutes over. #ff [The Festival Project ™] {Enter The Multiverse} The Complex Collective © The recipe started with something like, “Growing up, there were two things my mother and I often baked together: chocolate chip cookies and banana bread.” I paused for a moment and thought of myself and I, and then I thought– “okay, sure, yeah” Growing up there were two things my mother and I often baked together: Ourselves. Lol. hehe [That's The Punchline] –Maybe the first one was better [The Festival Project ™] -Ū. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Want the dakota and I got it Fanning I deflated I'm like Peyton Manning Previously on {Enter The Multiverse} Season 6 DRAKE BELL enters DTLA smokeshop. NICK You know who that is, right? Before: Tell me she remembers High possibility she doesn't remember anything at all. Great. Also. A high chance— That she remembers everything. Oh! Like all of it. Even worse. That might be worse— —it might be better. But it isn't, Either way! We lose! Great. Good luck, Timmy! Who the fuck is Timmy? You are! What! Good luck. So he enters and exits— In two entirely seperate dimensions! Not even parallels. Not even close. In fact, Once he enters, The world he leaves behind is forever gone. Forever gone?! Woah! Woah! Except those other guys from Nickelodeon, Because they have a Time Machine. Wooh, Phew. That's good. Yes it is. Wait—we have a Time Machine? Yes. That's good. Wher THE FOXXXYBOXXX arrives. “the Foxy Box?!” No, the Foxxxy Boxxx What— What are you dickbags staring at. Nothing. Goddamn! Shut up! That is the sexiest Time Machine I've ever seen! Have you ever seen a Time Machine at all, before this? I—I don't know what I've seen before this. Whatever. I like your box. Shut up. I like your box, too… Shut up. Get in. Where are we going? I don't even care. To Wonderland! {Enter The Multiverse} The first one might not fly, but the second one's for sure a hit. I found out there was wax on my apples today for the first time, and I thought “well, that's gross. Counting cards, are we? Another writing assignment. They're all writing assignments… You were dead once— —or I will be soon. Your choice. (Up to you) It's always my choice. You don't have acknowledge us as ‘ghosts' It's just that— We are what we are. To speak without speaking To know without knowing Cut ties with it all— With it at all? It could be worth it, If the salamander ever speaks again? Well, you are alive, aren't you? Only at the wishing well. —last I checked, in chains I was. I wish I were a rockstar. Consider it granted, unless— Unless, what? You'd rather yourself a comedian. Why would I want that? Why wouldn't you? I went full screen for Whoopi Goldberg but absolutely died At gene wilder. You'd better not. How dare you, Severus? Why would you write something like this? But—why wouldn't I? I wonder if there's anything I can do to get rid of this wax— And then I thought, “Maybe I should just peel them” Then I thought, “Wax on Apples— Well that's un-apple-eal-ing” I was Wait, hold that thought It was a joke my was a joke that practically wrote itself, cause it's not a fucking joke, it's true. I could see it, but not hear it The words, music, The art, animated My fasting eyes were wise with time And love forever As if I am, As if I was — At once all things, But not at all. Could have been better. What happened yesterday? My spirit broke. Just fasted to acid I yawned when it dawned on me, I eat when I'm awful, I'd rot in my body For time and for all words, For forwards.c for four words I haven't been loved since The door closed On more curses. I haven't taken a time to be honest In heartthrobs— Four of them, really But after all, I've got my all stars. Come to find out, The first husband in five— We're just all four. I fell out of love with a punch— But I left all my stuff there. Wondering here and there Whether or not it was Okay, this is officially the weirdest thing that's ever happened in the nevermind, that was weirder I told you bro, you were in the Illuminati. IT WASNT ME. i didn't do it. WHAT IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO [HER] [HIM] —NOTHING. Great. !9/ I have to wash all my socks. No, your dick still sucks. what. sorry dude. Second yawn, now know I'm on one The glass door passed out the fast words With honors and ornaments Sing to get off of the wire We fly to get on to it —how it all works out in the end, (It was always a puzzle.) That's enough of the sermon, The sponge, —it's all masters and mistresses The sodom, the stop watch The pocket —I saw Eddie Murphy The wonderous web that I spun after all Was a fortune, a fountain, a father A figure A falcon Enough was enough —but it all just kept going (Like over and over) I just want a lover, Without all the falling (Not actually alice) I lost all my change And my passion Just using the bathroom —were we past that. I use helicopters for time travel Over the mountain I probably never came down And I never went back there. It was roped off. I'm a crossroads, But they're closed off, I d got obstacles Marvelous crocs I told you it was God! (But forgot that I was one) Fuck, I'm so fucked up. This, from the ark of the story m Is every thought I've yet to have But still we're the will of the words, Since it all I it automatic. I should have paused hours ago (He had cerebral palate ir autism) I should be back at the ranch, But I've still got this taste in my mouth I should really —remarkable crush— For an infinite love, I thought. There was Severus, But you mustn't react If not wearing a mask, Or else you'll be cast on a show, Not your own, But do you get your The mushrooms were made of squishy foam and I appreciated that. Factor in this rampant rapture For m the capsule l upon us The wildebeest walked over Arches Before he as pardoned I wonder what acid reacted to Carson, on honors I polished the ghost On the worst of the wrongs I'd not done yet Therefore, you are. On Halifax, Or ahalycon, For artifacts Or dinner dates I once mated with a bird And flew the coop, Not shortly after, But What in the fuck am I watching What the fuck YO. Nobody told me about this. You greedy bitch. I—yeah whatever. Which road shall you go Which road shall you take You have to move on Though you tremble. X quake Whatever, I'll keep that typo, I gotta finish this joke. I was reading this banana bread recipe1- Not because I don't know how to make banana bread. Banana bread is easy. I was just trying to figure out how to make it Without eggs And without baking soda —you know, for texture. So I google this recipe, And I don't know what made me actually click on the recipe. — The rabbit has human hands. —I don't . Yeah, sometimes it's best to leave them in the mystery, Leave “them” Who is “them”? I am alone! …you were always alone. Okay, Or is it a donkey? What in the fuck? —-Oh, nevermind, that's me. I'm gonna want that “air trumpet. “ Return to the land of mirrors And “why are you still here's” They say the fame changes you I think we really are all that The time and the wise And the wicked The nine mirror cycles The sons of the songs you wrote All the the god and the sun you are Goddamn it, Just finish the joke! (You should finish me off first.) So I click o. This recipe Here we are counting cards again… YOU DID THIS IN ON PURPOSE, Are you serious, I did this in “post” Shut the fuck up, you didn't edit that video yourself —I didn't even shoot it, Aha. “The Art of the— —but which Alice is Alice. IT WASNT ME. The joke's not as funny after all this. (Not my fault, it's automatic. ) No, there's no ‘Nothing' In here, We all thought it was over, Then then I wondered How to old it all in Blow out the candles, Come over, The wonderful world of — You know, I can't see now, I'm hearing my faults— Are you sure it wasn't over. Would I forget you if it weren't for a word To remind me which part of I you are Simple sameness I am hungry, But the day was undaunting I was almost over it Now back to nothing— Since I belong there. There was no book four before. I should keep metronomes and impartial clocks Not for timekeeping, But soundbathing Something about it tells me to drown out my sorrows With cellibacy And alcohol It all come back to haunt you When you have a daughter— Now doesn't it? How does it go? It goes The heart screams I've got to go home But the head doesn't want to The soul cries for someone to hold it Outside of the body The water went up, Then went down Till we ran out of all of it —I was just making a mockery Of my own mother. (I was aborted.) You might let that cat out of the bag. The recipe started, Here we are in a house of cards And it all falls down Or goes up in flames Oh, to love the fire, Though I'm so tired I would write For the times If I was Inspired Shift the subject Life the veil, And break the worth wall Break the curse Or write the wrath of karma Shopping malls And quarter horses, Blow up dolls And mattresses, Perfect persons, Sayers, Singers, dancers Character actresses, Theatre dictations You see the same, I saw, I went It's all one column now (The middle) The ensemble was fireworks And wellbeing For all the struggle The clock struck minus one At unimportant. —The facts. I took priority for phone calls And piety for beings of dignity Honorary, further off then comfort Just a world away Or are you being Suffered, or sufferable? Surfaces for surfboards— Words of will for honeycombs And gingerbread for Anastasia Sure Google, But it was “Amistad” Whatever that was. I could have figured you were bigger than interesting Never would have guessed We'd have it for us eating on the cardboard Cutouts Matchbox offerings From dawn until sunset Porpoises, Toilets and Gold watches When will it work? When you sing what you want to At will With your heart And above all the offers Took love over money I'm 5 minutes over. #ff [The Festival Project ™] {Enter The Multiverse} The Complex Collective © The recipe started with something like, “Growing up, there were two things my mother and I often baked together: chocolate chip cookies and banana bread.” I paused for a moment and thought of myself and I, and then I thought– “okay, sure, yeah” Growing up there were two things my mother and I often baked together: Ourselves. Lol. hehe [That's The Punchline] –Maybe the first one was better [The Festival Project ™] -Ū. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

True last Dillon Francis was bad. Like really bad. So bad, I still have to remix it. Let's hope this one is better. it is. Wait, what is this. —don't open that. Fucking great. What the fuck is this. Who knows, man. Oh look, a portal. Goddammit it, this whole dude is a mindfuck. (™ Wait, hold on a minute. Why, what happened. Every time I fuck around with these people I feel like I'm being fucked with. Well, they are DJs, so… *snifs* Hm. Wait. Yeah. Didn't this dude hop through the dream world just to tell me he had a girlfriend. He surely did. —-sounds like a trap. How dare you. Ah, shit— Did I ever write that scene where DEADMAU5 gives -Ū. (Or Happy Accidents, Whatever) a thumbs up instead of the middle finger she was hoping for. HOW DARE YOU. Well, if I didn't write it before, I wrote it now. ‍♀️ SUCKS TO BE YOU. Yeah, it does. I'm closing the portal. That's fine, I'm going to bed. Fuck everybody. Especially weak tiny dick people who ride motorcycles outside my building. Weak ass bitches. *niggas **roaches. I just realized like, White people's whole deal now is to do as much Passive aggressive shit to make black people's mental fragile To make people Pop So they have an excuse to keep Fucking with (you.) That your behavior— Your reaction to their sick, Twisted, vampire shit Gives them a reason To keep it in their minds That you are lower than them. That they are better. Their entire game Is finding ways to kill you Without even touching you. To make your kill yourself And call it “‘Mental illness” When really it's just a Series of psychological terror attacks In order to remain Dominant in a society Where they can Thrive in being Lazy, Arrogant Fucking energy vampires Yo, What the fuck is with white girls. Why are they so fucking EVIL? They're like, energy vampires They don't do anything for themselves At all And pretty much exist Stepping on other people And then calling that shit “Hard work” They are practically fucking USELESS. Like, If that is your staple— If that's your girl— If you're the guy that's like “I don't know what I would do without her” You fucking SUCK. Cause she fucking SUCKS And that's the basis of your fucking maneuverability and survival. You are LAME. Keep your weak dick Tryna fuck these Child-looking bitches “I can't live without her” Dirty house having World-stealing Slave-driving Ass Over there. Karma's coming for your ass. Your life doesn't get to be this fucking easy For this fucking long And everybody else just fucking *really* works And suffers around you. You are fucking LAME. “I don't know what I would do without her!” Probably nothing, What most white people do anyway. Fuck these energy vampire motherfuckers. They don't do shit They just use their blue fucking light-reflecting eyes To hypotize people Into making other people do shit for them They don't do shit They don't clean house They don't wash dishes They need to stop treating mental illness like a one fucking size fits all concept When Most colored people's mental health issues Come from fucking the trauma of the societal fucking race war And most white people's mental illness Comes from the inability to see that They've had it so much fucking easier Than everybody else For fucking nothing How the fuck do white people Have the nerve to be “depressed” With fucking everything. Interchangeability is dominance in this society. You can be ANYTHING You can have ANYTHING And you have the nerve to be “DEPRESSED” OVER WHAT? Fuck these toxic ass fucking Vampires But you tell them that shit about themselves And they'll just green light your fucking disposal “Racism is over” But you're forward and telling them that in your experience, That it obviously isn't— They'll just deny your entire existence And call it your fucking fault At the end of the day, really it is your fault— For giving them the satisfaction Of doing your little dance around them, Wearing your weave, Minding your manners— And letting them continue to get away with Taking your light Because they don't make their own. (They just exist on yours. ) His war tactics were comical, At best— A victor, champion And honorable warman That's it! Imm going to make a vegan neopolitan ice cream! You're going to make—ice creM. You're going to make—ice cream? On no, trrrs that guy from 39 rock again. Do you bastards work on Sundays now?! You know what they say: if you don't come to work Saturday, don't bother showing up on Sunday! You would think we'd get a day off in this bitch. Shut up. Oh, if it isn't the pampered prince of— Shh, shut up, he might hear you. YES. The toil of knowing That all of New York Lies most unseen, Cloaked to the working Hidden to the poor, Far above skylines And rooftops, And fear of them //us //it Artifact Hyperbole, given ranges of circumstances Heartwarming eathworms, Two day delay on a martyr attack Come, mother Move// Love closer strictly to your wings No bullets, And strangely, The pain has moved Out of my wrists and arteries Into my head again Mr. Valentine, strictly for the art force Never murmured or remembered Words so softly unheard of Why call us? I needed armor against the devils warcries— Telephones and dollars, motorcycles And motherless crossfires I told you, waiting Imm nearly out of my body And not willing to compensate For never tied you I To the bounds of boundaries l Brick exposed walls and Leather, not faux For the given lcuxies If unmistaken Bitterness —the tombs of it all. Unflourished. I'd better flag that one Are you looking for a new body to be housed by? Grief stricken and decaying in the original marksmanship Of beautified craft— Well, now Aren't we seasons greetings And good tithings Aren't I! Whatever he puts his mind to, He conquers— The question stands— What is it, He's out his mind to? Are you ever in your own body? Are you ever in your right mind? Which one's the right one? Fair. The coughing controllable Waits for the regimen Of daily values Set to offer her A grand scheme Of nothing at all An intolerable Forgiven grattitude of Imbalance, captivated at all By noting but A line between What was easy, becomes sacred In its later challenge, and being blind Becomes sighted, At will, After all suffering Has been marked, Dove Where to put the lips, Or the bullet, without them Whistle blows the the water, Reflective as her eyes And rotted core West, then— For futures sake, As to live without Is to die amongst hoards Or broods, no fit for greater lives Than the galaxies of unwashed stars; For metaphors, a gratitude forgotten You're not doing yourself any favors. Could I make it more clear how in love we are? The devil wants, So he speaks in water Through the tongs The warmth of the light shines Throug eyes and isle The wickndness would follow The women, To die for On his alter A sacrifice And so, The program resumes The judge is presiding The wedding's put off Or postponed Or not happening He played his 7 years best out of all of them! In at the first, in the end— As a marker Tears of a clown, Dressed in white, and blue faced Befriended the enemy of interest In sanctions! WARCRIES' (Warcries) Tidings —tidings Heroines, Warcries Warcries Warcries— How are you now, rabbit? I come as bouncing blondes, Seeking truth And refuge in your love As a sister, The bonds of warcries Disheveled us Awaken, Warcries— How now Warcries Tidings And Tiding Warcries Sacred Patron —sirens. Sirens! *fsce* Should we go? We should. Quick! (Nothing) Men! (At all) On your feet! [nobody moved at all, not a muscle] I don't know what I do it for. I need to know some things Abo it at least two people that are alive. How to go about that Without striking code Goes beyond my understanding In this diety She walks around with Salt in her pockets As a call to action Against robots With demon ties To fight wars On the devil's call A becoming cry For the weak And the wicked To come to karma DJM-S11 2-Channel Pro Mixer Jesus Christ! What is with this guy! JESUS CHRIST This cat keeps creeping around my doorstep… Following me, appearing in my window. Sometimes he meows at me to let him in; it's not that I don't want to. He is very cute. You should say, a very handsome cat. The thing is, I've nothing for him. I lead m a very busy life , all work and no play— And even when it is all fun, it's no games. He is a beyaitfuk cat— And oh, how I would like to keep him. But I've simply no room for a cat at all. I thought, perhaps— I might try to scare him away. All the girls on the red carpet like 00 and shit “Body positivity” Don't be fucking stupid. dudes like twigs and skeletons. Damn this same ugly motherfucker has a cold every time I see him. He's always fucking sick wtf is wrong with some people. His house must be dirty as shit This dude coughs every 4 ½ minutes. Last time I saw him was like a month ago, And he was doing the same thing. The fuck is wrong with him? He didn't bring water, an inhaler—nothing. He just coughs and snorts every fucking 3-4 minutes. Eventually that shit just started to make me laugh. I was like, “This dude for sure has the devil in him.” So every time he coughed, I would just start cracking the fuck up. It started to make me giggle. Then the more I giggled, the more gnarly his coughing got. He's like “aeugh-ACCJK—HUNHHHHHC” Then I knew it was the devil. I couldn't help but laugh, and I was like “Come on devil, come on up out that man.” He was like, Hacking at this point— Mind you, he's on the treadmill not running, but walking. Just — Hacking and shit “ACHKH—aahuuuhuh!” And I'm like “Come on now, Devil, leave that man alone” And then— he did! I was like “goddamn, that shit really must have been the devil.” His hacking turned into little reptilian snorts. —you know how they do. Hissing and shit. I was like. Damn. White people is otherworldly sometimes. Coughing and hacking and hissing and shit. I'm like, Your weird alien ancestors got all fucked up fuckin around fuckin dinosaurs and monkeys— This is the modern result of that. “AGHCK—CUHHH.” I'm like, You shouldn't be sick every time I see you if you're at the gym this much. I'm like, Everybody on the red carpet weighs 100 lbs Ain't nothing wrong with me. I got asthma, too but damn. Don't fucking “AQCCFFHHHBB” Every 3 minutes. That's the devil. Fix your life, devil!! I realized also, Hey, If I can ride this stationary bike for 95 minutes and counting I can ride a dick for an hour and a half Can your dick support that? If not, step the fuck back CC I got my karma for laughing at him though l— I was on kettlebells later and just when I was about to get to that last fuckin release at the bottom of my spine— Dude gets off the treadmill and walks across the room to get a Clorox wipe and I fall on my ass. That impressed me, though. Not that his energy caused me to fall on my ass, or anything— I had already been at the gym something like 2, 2 and a half hours— The first hour and a half was cardio— But I was impressed, with this one— You know why. He goes to get a Clorox wipe, thank god, after all that fucking coughing—he needed a whole ass exorcism and a Clorox wipe— the exorcism was a courtesy on God, but he got the Clorox wipe all in his own— and when he was finished with it, he threw it away! I'm like, “This one knows how to use a trash can!” Impressive. I ain't got shit to lose Fuck these weak ass niggas On the punching bags Just a bunch of fags Trackers attached to me And getting bags for it In my heart. I guess. I'm still a scam Planes falling out the sky I know who I am, though Word for word An eye for an eye See how easy it is To have a friend on the side ? See how easy it is to move on After beating your wife See how easy it is to get by and survive When everything y buy is based on Everything you write (And you write about the whites with blue eyes So they really don't like you) [The Festival Project ™ ] The Complex Collective © {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

I found this in your notebook. oh. What the hell is this? You should know by now what anything I do is. What is it? A new project. What new project? All the good ones are taken; And all the good girls go to Hell All the girls become women Oh well Oh well Oh well What have we here? Something other than a laugh— As long as its on the path, Well then, Another, As long as it lasts So, I made all the veins in your neck stand out So I have the answer There you are, a dancer What I asked, What, folded hands What you've prayed for is Perhaps What I paid for Another dysfunction At Broadway Junction It's another Jusfuction at Broadway junction Here's the problem with America today: They're Selling you the disease— Labeling it as “food” And then selling you the “cure” Labeling it as medicine. But here's the problem— Most food, in the United States, that we recognize as food, Is not food. It's chemical recreation. TINA FEY enters angrily. God, I love her so much. TINA FEY WHERE IS MY STRESS BALL!!!??? {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

I already sinned two times since sundown two songs on the wrong muse Not strong enough to refuse The powder blue of lust The Royal color of love The darkness of a Navy captain Dark, the seas For songs, For sins For suffering up until the end All over nothing, something else though As once lost A bottle nose, besides a bottle Corked, preserves the message A self-massage, misogynistic qualities A new hygienist Insanity My shoes still soaked from cardio sessions Long drawn out thoughts of finding a love The worry of ending it all between Sunday and Monday The withering of flower kept for no particular botanist Now, I don't Even feel I should be Alive Let alone Loved Protagonist for profanity Vulgarity, and so you shouldn't Who you should trust, No one at all dear Impressions, impressions For fame and for stardom I count ever fuck in my pocket Before letting them all out What a horrible poem Three words for the stork Two children, four more And the poorer we'll all become Just knowing of it Appearing common for the masses I'll stop cussing for 11 Mill a year To make it clearer I was there before But [it] doesn't move at all For nothing at all Profanity, the art Offense from your porcelain walls and glass houses Something must be wrong with me, for being here I'm being tortured Just moving forward Her pills finish homework My pills bring on migraines, And comas, And outbursts in public Her pills set her mind at ease My pills make me awkward and stuttering Her pills give her promotions My pills make me dizzy with weakness And hallucinations Delusions of grandeur Her pills give her promise; My pills give me sabotage I refuse go walk into the wrong amusement park, You bought tickets for no one I know, I'll go coastal with four stars With one consonant only, no doubles I should show you what I wrote tomorrow It's too late for that I just got a lot of information in three slides; Pile of clothes soaked, drenched on the side of the tub I rub my own feet, now I wrote my own fate I sew my own mouth shut I right now wrong man I just want to live! I just want to die! SWITCH. Oh. What's happened? That's better, I guess. Somethings changed. I— Feel better? I do, actually. That's good, I— dang jimmy fallon, r u ok. we should probably just– Lets just go. yeah leave that nigga alone for FOREVER. k. noted. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

I designed your disease to fit my needs and desires Then I discard you Cause everything's all in your head, You call it a curse, Or a cure for your omen A call to your sermons, A servitude severance, But also Just know too much more than numbers That's how I know how young I am— They brought Patti Labelle onstage, And the first thing I thought was “Oh my God, I love her pies!” That's how you know there's no money in music anymore, really. Patti Labelle makes pies. Her performance gave me bass face. “—what?” Times have changed. The truth is, I don't think imm ready for the times I don't think I'm ready for it I've been dead set on the certainty that I'm about to die; I keep seeing my dead friend's number anywhere And I keep having these synchronicities that make me think “Yo that's it— something's coming.” “This isn't right.” Or like “This is the last of this, for sure, you know?” I left my body during Patti Labelle's performance thinking to myself— “I went wrong somewhere.” Something in my life went —Dick Gregory Have you ever been punched in your motherfuckin' face? What you say? Oh, you haven't? Alright, wait, bitch Two-phone Baby Keem, fuck you mean? I am here, ho Ice cream, booger colored piss, Sub-Zero No, ho, hookers in my clique, we don't fear ho Lit, lit, lit, lit, lit, lit, lit, lit I gotta wait, I gotta politic, I got a bae Ain't no apologies when I get paid A dermatologist, I want the face Don't talk to me when I stomp in this bitch, ho, ho Pussy watery, I duck the tuna fish, ho, ho Yeah, uh, these niggas actin' like groupie, huh Lil' bitch, she wanna get mad 'Cause I keep on lookin' all in her boobie, huh I got the furniture options My U-Haul movin', coochie to coochie, huh I buy the toe when I shop it Rock band on toosie, now I look spooky, huh, huh Easy there boy, shit get greedy there, boy I rep PG there, boy, my gang need me there, boy If my sex tape leak, your bitch on TV there, boy Watch her please me there, boy (lil' baby got on my nerves) Shit get greedy there, boy (lil' baby got on my nerves) I must admit, I am a mess, I cannot fix it, mm Lil' baby thick, Margiela sweats, look at my dick print, mm Fuck all the rats, if you confess, that is a big hit, huh Fuck all the rats, if you confess, it get addressed, bitch Have you ever been punched in your motherfuckin' face? What you say? Oh, you haven't? Alright, wait, bitch I want the fade (I want the fade) Give me my fade, I want the fade I need the fade, I need my- We gotta fade, give me my fade (fade) We gotta fade (fade) Give me my fade, I want the fade I, I need the fade (fade) Run me my fade (fade) Narcissists ruin the most genuine people. Then call them "crazy" or "toxic" when they finally react to all their bullshit. Narcissists have a remarkable ability to identify and exploit the most empathetic and compassionate individuals. They prey on those with kind hearts and souls, using their charm and manipulation to draw them in. As they weave their web of deceit, they gradually erode the victim's self-worth, making them doubt their own perceptions and sanity. The narcissist's constant gaslighting, blame-shifting, and emotional abuse can leave even the strongest individuals reeling. But when the victim finally reaches their breaking point and stands up for themselves, the narcissist is quick to label them as "crazy" or "toxic". This is a clever tactic to shift the focus away from their own abusive behavior and onto the victim's justified reaction. By doing so, the narcissist aims to: 1. Silence the victim 2. Gain sympathy from others 3. Avoid accountability for their actions I think I die before my mom. I hope I die before my dad. I don't like the world at all, The microphones on phones are bad What in the simulation?! This girl's shoes said “Adidass” It was adidas, but with a extra s. #ohmyhoodness. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

I think I die before my mom. I hope I die before my dad. I don't like the world at all, The microphones on phones are bad What in the simulation?! This girl's shoes said “Adidass” It was adidas, but with a extra s. #ohmyhoodness. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

I was sitting becalmed in the Lee of cunnyhunk, just when. The funseekers are coming. They what. Eyy. AH NAH. I gotta get out of here! WHY. THE FUNSEEKERS ARE COMING. The “funseekers?!” Shh! Stop saying that! Everyone's saying it! That doesn't make it right! Write this down. I'm not doing anything you tell me anymore. I shouldn't have to be saying it. —I don't like using brainwaves. Likely, because you have very few of them accumulating, With purpose. The budget for this season just increased. What budget. (Budgets-*) Wait, this is… Multiple projects? It's multiple brokers. Idk what that means. Well that ticking noise is most certainly a hat… And for once, somebody that way is playing some good music I'm an old lost soul, long gone But not far from here, you know This time Mr softie was in perfect timbre with the music playing l— Sugar pie honey bunch Master, or messiah Method, or minstrel Never a mistress I fuckin love white people!! You know why? Geocaching. Fuck, I almost forgot about that. This is weird. Everything is weird now. Everything is WEIRD. When's that album coming out? anever. I quit. i told u i was deadmau5, man. Wtf. wait , like, all of it? ya. shoot that nigga. LIVE: All the Niggaz is getting shooted at. EVERYONE ELSE …that was already happening, tho. WHITE SUPREMACISTS *shrugs* *drinks another bottle of coca cola* *trashes entire planet* *doesnt feel* Lol BLANG-BLANG. MEANWRHILE: DEADMAu5 NO, I'm TEsTPiLOT Whatever, dog. KILL THAT N– DEADMAU5 LOOK AT MA DIK. …ok. Wasnt there another scene after this? I dunno, I got dick-stracted. Yikes UNTIE ME. UNITY. UNITYYYYYYYYYYY. WHAT. UNTIE ME FROM THIS–THING. No, actually, I think you should stay there. The most bizzare thing happened this morning. The most bizzare thing ever, to have happened to me, ever—which is saying a lot l— but I was scratching my head, and all of a sudden, This tiny fingernail— An itty, bit, teeny-tiny fingernail, like, Dislodged itself from my soul or something— Fell out of my hair, Okay, God. What. This baby fingernail— Like, okay it could be like a newborn big toe nail or like, A one month's old like actual finger Aww, I just used to bite them. They were so little I didn't want to cut them with the clippers. Their little fingers You don't want to accidentally— You know, They're just so soft. Awws. What the fuck, God. That makes no sense. I've been primarily by myself for like—ever— And anytime I'm in public, I'm wearing a hat— My wash machine is only used by me, thank god and What the fuck does this mean? HOTDOG-HOTDOG. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

twak'd (end of days) Collection I- 'better off dead.' Track 05. - 'twak'd' (end of days) Prod. by Blū Tha Gürū Did I already post this? idkz. oh well. Here it is. and some enter the multiverse, or whatever I thought it was L E G E N D S IT IS WHAT IT IS. {Enter The Multiverse} If you'll excuse me, I actually have to get going. Where are you going? I don't know: I just— JOHNNY DEPP must be going. Have to. he does not know, however, that he is stuck in a movie—which has no definitive ending. Well actually, This movie has like— 30 alternative endings Wait, 30 alternative endings? 30-40 Woah. That's nuts. Which makes it even cooler. If you ever blow my mind again like that, I'll actually kill you. I've been watching a lot of LMN Lifetime movie network—Why?! Because this shit is hilarious! Isn't it! YO. This shit is PIZZA It IS. What? Why is it pizza? Cause it's not pizza If it's not CHEEZY. ahaha. While traditional Thai pineapple fried rice has tomatoes within the vegetable medley, I opted instead for this recipe to use a sauced red pepper tomato sauce glaze to top the dish, for a new school American twist and flare. ½ cup chopped mushrooms ½ cup scallions ¼ cup white onion ½ cup red onion ¼ cup Pasilla pepper ½ cup red pepper cup white onions ½ cup yellow pepper ¾ cup green pepper 1 cup fresh basil 1 cup fresh pineapple UmBRIDGE. What. NO, Um— A bridge appears out of nowhere. lol why do you have no hair? I dunno; mate. Wizards. Don't go there— You're fired. I beg your pardon Please, don't beg. You are officially decommissioned as headmaster! This is the minister of magic Is that what it was. I guess, I don't know; I'm just along for the STEWIE. WHAT MA, WHAT. TEN AND TWO!! You know what, let me drive. Oh, finally—stewie has his own aplorable Boston accent, (hybrid proper English, of course. ) What does that even sound like Strange. The lady working at Trader Joe's was so beautiful to me, I had to tell her. I loved her Locs, I loved her glasses I loved her accent. So I just had to ask where she's from— I do that sometimes. If I really love someone's accent, I have to ask where their from to try to get there one day; So I asked her, “Where are you from?” And she says “Haiti,” And I was like “Wow, cool” And then I thought about it for a second, And I asked “Do you ever miss home” And she just laughed I was like “Oh, guess not” Some context I had been homesick lately, But I grew up in Alaska And I consider myself from California, Having spent most of my adult life there So coming to New York has been like Living on the other side of the world; And sometimes that sucks. But sometimes, and I have realized that wherever you're from, To get to New York is sometimes a blessing. She didn't even say yes or no, She just laughed. Now I'm worried about Haiti. I was worried about it before; But now I'm like; “Do you miss home?” She's like “Hahaha” I'm like “Oh damn.” I count my blessings. So JOHNNY DEPP just like excuses himself, wanders out into the street, and then—? Yeah. And then what? I don't know yet, I'm kind of busy these days. “BUSY?!” BUSY DOING WHAT?! Beep boop. Eee—ooh. Beep—boop—boop. Yah-yah-yah— APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE I'll show you all my scars, huh This one, she look like the reaper That's my girl, You bet she a keeper Ya'll sleepin on us What Yeah What Yeah What You sleeping on us I been in this b'niss APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE APPLESAURCE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE I LIKE BALLS IN MY FACE ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. It's not a bad song. Is it a song? Is it? idk I just like balls in my face, is all. ILIKEBALLSINMYFACE. [A Classic red dodgeball beams Who is it? WILL FERREL Is that how you spell it? Why will Ferrel? Cause I Want it TO MAKE ME LAUGH. HOW. JUST DO IT. Oh. I get it: So my pain is funny to you? [FINE, IT'S SOMEONE ELSE] Oh shit, that guy did look just like Will Ferrel, but OLD. He's old now, ain't he? Wasn't he always? [FINE] CUT. I QUIT. CUT TO: You and I, sir, have a longstanding arrangement. Would it be more comfortable to–sit? Yikes. (Whatever, we'll work on it.) [The Festiva– {Enter The Multiverse} I need a toothbrush to scrub my brain. I'm The lilly of the valley In the Belly of the beast I been swallowed by a whale I'm a whole damn story Woah I am the Lilly of the the valley I am the rider of the horse I am seeker of truth Writer of lines Sayer of lies (I might say a lie; But I just won't tell it) What is your deal with the devil. She knows I have a deal with ‘em. Well, the truth is— I have to turn ya! He's a good old country boy— From the simple south— A simple soul And they all believed him, word for word “I's born in New York” —he sounded assured. Gone, now, boy Go crack dat corn. Gone down south Go crack dat corn Gone, ol boy Go crack dat corn m —got no soul? Go crack dat corn. Aaaaghhh. I have a headache. why the fuck are you freaking out?! Because I don't know what I wrote. I must admit, There are things Where there should be no things There are springs Where there should be no springs There are strings Where there should be no strings And imm quite sure With no rules enforced —it's just a static cling Sort of thing OWW, my EYES. Nobody should have this much power. Nobody does. I don't get it. (I still don't understand why this happened.) He must have perfect genetics. Or something. THIS FOOL IS FIXING ME UP TO DIE!!!!! I AM THECRISCO QUEEN DIRTY NOT CLEAN WHAT CAN I SAY I LIKE GREASE MONEY EVERYDAY BANKROLL INCREASE DEEP FRY HIGH SUNNI BLŪ Yo VO. Ok— so sometimes things go shitty. Like, mad shitty. YOOOOO. My measurements are 34C, 24 waist, and 55 in height. I couldn't understand why a girl this perfect should have to be selling sex at all, But I supposed nowadays, all women were prostitutes in some sort of way. This one's 22 years old and 96 pounds Men are sick fucking creatures. Whose fucking child is this?! COME GET YOUR DAUGHTER. Although, you know—I get it. My mom bought a Mercedes in cash And I'm still in educational debt. I just now today realized. That could have been a college fund. But she wanted a Mercedes. It's okay that I'm a bit fucked up in the head. Something went terribly wrong. All and all, Myself and this perfect girl, Cost around the same For an entire night— But hey, I think she's low balling herself On the 24 hour special. That's an entire day of my time, That's at least 10K. ‍♀️ She has a perfect body and two eyes that are different colors, But I'm a literary genius. You don't need words to soothe your boner thiugh, Or show off at a black tie function, do you? A stroll on the red carpet, Or some opulent fucking 5-star charade. How much does she cost, I wonder? She says, “I also accept bitcoin, etherum, gold and silver.” On God, These fake lip hoes is robbin' niggas. Men are sick creatures though. “Here's my gold watch” Fucking gross. I cruise escort sites for entertainment, Having learned my value as a woman isn't the visual, Visceral thing men are usually looking for— No judgement, Because I've realized that if I too had a perfect body. I myself would be living in some kind of oppulent, prostitution fuck-hole, With everybody else in my generation, That didn't get married— And then, probably divorced. I realized a long time ago that this was the reason my mother Always hated my body more than I ever could have— which is fine, Because eventually I inherited this hatred. I could have eventually grown out of it— But she couldn't see that. I was a “nasty fat heifer” On her worst days, And now, Even on my best days— I still am. Nevermind that eventually my ex husband would Think of my hair as nappy, or That I actually did end up kind of sort of growing out of being A fat, nasty heifer— Kind of. But the fact that it's taken me the entirety of my life to realize my worth as a woman Would always be defined by that Of what a man idealized as “Worthy” Well, That in itself Gives me the dismissive ability To have days where I do nothing, But sit back, Cruising escort sites and shipping on Amazon for yoga mats, Wanting the experience of the world Without really being beautiful enough for it And waiting to fade Into the next lifetime. [All the black girls cost less Because they have to.] Men are sick creatures. They'll take a butterface, Ugly ass white girl Over a pretty one that's dark skinned And these are just The facts of life (So far.) Piper of Phoenix Valiant, bold, and brazen This woman, I love— In the wings for fortune, To honor, I love With wisdom, And aged like fine wine We all become I want body like Sofia But never met the real Rebecca. Yo. YO. Let's spend $60 o lip gloss. Okay. Hey. Ways crackin. I just bought a $12,000 mattress. Let's take a nap in it. Hey girl. Heeeeeeey. This yoga mat cost $200. That's fresh. You think THATS RICH?! Seems pretty rich to me. You can't get any of this stuff on Amazon. That's fucking psycho. These loafers? Uh uh. $2,000. For WAT. (Whispers) Eeel skiiiin. Gross! I'm HUNGRY Got grits, Ain't got no sugar. No butter— —ain't hurt nobody. Poverty is a whole damn show. Close the door On a broke ass bitch. Poverty is a whole damn story. Got no bucks for the Whole Foods market Shopping carts full of old ass garbage No reward For a woke ass artist I'm HUNGRY. I killed myself 3 times his morning. POOR SNOOP is still a whole ass G BET ON IT HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL RAP COVER -$15 BROKE WAYNE AINT HAVING IT CHRIS ROCK THE METRO TRAIN DRIVER is NOT FUNNY— (He's still a ladies man though.) LCD SYSTEM HOOGLI BOOGLI is the reason they fear us. HOOGLI BOOGLI IS THE BLACKEST BLACK THAT EVER BLACKED. UNLIKE NIGGLY NIGGA—he is NOT FRIENDLY. He is the stuff of nightmares. A world gone wrong. Two bloodshot eyes on a black backdrop Dark black. I sold not state at screen They go uno in te night This shit doesn't make much sense, Does it? Doesn't Matter Antimatter. Ow. How far is antimatter from antithesis? Is this just a Christmas present Never said it, same diff Something something something SHUT UP. So to re-iterate— Uh huh. Niggly Nigga is friendly… Yeah, he's just— —he just looks like that. AH. What happened. Don't stand behind me like that, my nigga. Srry. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Okay, that'll work. #timetravelingdjs

{Previously…} Evidently the motorcycles begin to now attack when I am at rest , on line, and not recording. However, once I begin recording, they stop. This has only been since I've been intentionally collecting recordings and data to add to my report to the NYPD and any applicable law enforcement agencies, as this continual threat seems to be politically motivated—and motorcycles, mopeds, and other motorized vehicles being used as a form of psychological terrorism as a direct threat to public health and safety. Terror stalking. Gang stalking. This may be a politicized attempt to promote or enforce gentrification or other political agendas. Living//Loving life on a server, Doesn't it seem wonderful? Let's face it— It's Fast Friday and I'm not going to be Bouncing off the walls, or anything— But I might be prone to a lot of Critical thinking, And though it's an expensive maneuver, And risky expenditure, The fact of the matter is— I haven't really been doing anything. I've been not complacent, But stagnant— So perhaps maybe this little detour Will be just the thing I need To erase some of the damage that's been done To my psyche— Sitting in this terribly loud apartment In Brooklyn Trying to find peace And make music; When the answer all along is that I need to increase my visibility In order to find what's needed; The fact is— Knowing where to go Or what to do Or who to meet Is not going to come in isolation— No, not at all. It would come from a neatly designed —whatever, I just got bored. Perhaps if I study hard enough, One day, I could complete my studies somewhere Like Harvard, Or Columbia— But first, I'll need a new diploma in my actual name. You see, nobody's giving any kind of real fuck about my music. I can't keep throwing money at it thinking that the way to success is going to be making enough money, to spend enough money, to hopefully buy the attention of the robotic masses, and eventually maybe even a club owner or festival promoter Who might be looking to put me on. Don't get me wrong— my music is good. But we live in a computer, and let's also realize: That with the noise in this building, And the overall head trip of counting up my pennies for every little thing I need, I'm starting to get physically ill, Just sitting here, understanding that To look the part, one must prioritize An expensive beauty regimen— Which either would leave me at the mercy of some man, Willing to do these things for me, Or that I might earn this myself… As you see, I've chosen the latter route— The more challenging, perhaps, However, Leaving my celibacy intact, And granted, otherwise uninterested In the males at my level of circumstance For any purposes beyond entertainment— —seek no other actual companionship at all. I like myself, I love myself— And though feeling uglier and uglier The more I stare into the face of my telephone screen— I am wonderfully beautiful all on my own. —but— The masses expect a spectacle, And so, It becomes part of my job, as an entertainer, Part of my repertoire— —have mercy— (I'm going to choose to ignore that, sort of) To do at least what has become expected of me as a woman— To be “pretty” — And though the makeup and hair and nails Might be fake, –Cans cost a fortune— Myself without those things, as observed and proven Becomes overlooked, dismissible, and only attractive To those, of course, to whom I have no business Associating For both personal, And professional reasons. —moreover… Conduct yourselves well, my dear— As the furious skies have warned us, That the roles you carry out to mark and torment others, Will soon reflect upon your own mirror Into which you stare, And no mercy is given By the eye that looks, Or any other The nearer to doors I am, The harder they slam— The, though I am fasting, I'm suddenly hungry, A far cry Which forces me to realize That all of mankind Has been poisoned Toxic, And become Unsafe So, What's wrong here Is they've Taken all the nutrients From the foods we need And put it on A competitive scale So that The more you earn The healthier you are And of course The healthier you are The more productive you are Which creates value Maybe I didn't have to take the GED; Maybe there was some way to go about getting My actual name On my old diploma— Hopefully without cost. But it didn't make sense to move into a new era Or a new world With old haunts. I knew I needed to seal the name change records So that my abuser could not have access To my identity. For whatever reason, I wanted things like Harvard and Columbia— I wanted to succeed and to win with a reputable and respectable foundation— I wanted to raise my son To play football And split custody In the sporting seasons In which I felt he performed best. I wanted to show him success Without making compromises That would hurt and weaken The strength of the body and mind — But most importantly, the soul. I hope by now you've realized how odd it is To have a crystal dildo Sitting in a glass jar On your kitchen countertop? …I'm soaking it. …But why crystal tho? Wouldn't you prefer An iron tenderizer For that steak Rather than a Silicone one? …now that you put it that way. Come closer, darling, I want to connect with you closer Than besides In the eye of the camera— Don't you know, anyway— How dire the circumstances become Once you've broken the fourth wall And entered the quarry. You lunatic! Don't worry The moon hasn't gone yet new, And my honored eye Still betraying the thought you are, The battered ram and the shackled horses The bloodied bull And the heroic matador, Fight … … … —by fury with design, for the holocaust. The masses have loved us From far beyond reason For our class action theatrics With no aversion at all, To violence. A treasury! Kill him, then! Kill that bitch. No! Just— scare her! Right you are, (And right you were!) Dear Johnathan, I should have warned you More than once, What an. Honorable sacrifice Your wicked life Has offered us— Foragers of freedom, March upon the underspoken Warcries, Offer us none But the end of our suffering In solitude, A service of none, All together, Hurt and bea— Arthur. I warned you once. You see, Men need women, They move on fast. One, none parted Before finding another. Let's not separate the eggs from the whites. Isn't it all “the egg”? You know what I meant! What do you “meant”? The yellow part! God, you don't half to yell. I'm not God, I'm just playing her part while she runs off for awhile. How long is “awhile”? Just finish those tarts. Mm. Pop tarts. NO. NOT POP TARTS — Just TARTS. …wait, can she hear us? I can hear everything! I'm playing God's parts! “Parts”? (Let's just say it's a double role.) Hey. How's it goin? Okay. Relax… I am relaxed. I don't want to scare you or anything. —nothing's scary— But— [pause] You have a knife in your back. [beat] Yeah. [beat] (Cont'd) It's just [a little] something I'm working on. What? We should call an ambulance! Nope, I'm fine. Just— No! Don't touch it! What?! Just leave it. It's time for pros and cons lists— It's time for diamonds Time for great minds that think alike. I sterted a revolution on Google documents m Ya'll started chemical warfare On skin color God Made me born into a world War Where fair skin takes priority Over others Gave me a notebook, No pen A traumatized mother, A drunk father And said, “Fix problems” I think I didn't like The nell Schooll ll Cause their mascot Is a pices They said I got 15 minutes of fame 22 minutes of superstardom An hour of celebrity And 2 hours in a leading role Of a feature film Franchise So I'd better get used to it And I'd better make use of it And I'd better make better lists of The huffsk yll m You W t you Sorry, Gym typo Because Of course I'm a beast Faux pas, As I was, Saying— I should make better lists Of the guff I wanna boff, The doves I Central Park The pigeons, turtle doves and Waffles— —I still want the But not the buttermilk kind MAMA! I gotta get to Tom/ Diner! FATHER! (Try papa) Papa was the ops! Nah, I'm vice. I'd better get Anything done Before midnight strikes Along with the hunger My gloves are straight soaked I got puddles in my shoes I wanna top Obama Start all my dawns With hours of cardio!! Look, I can channel anyone I love! Do you love me? NO! —I just want your body a lot Like a lot LIKE A LOT, Tho. We're too famous— We sense crazies and go out the back door. How famous are you again? Apparently, like mad famous, dog. Were so famous, We look danger in the eyes. Oh yeah, this dude is fucking nuts. Didn't I say to pay it forward?! I don't need a reminder Of what time it is. Sometimes I forget This is yesterdays workout And I'm due back In the AM Where the crazies Can't get to me Exactly Where I am (Don't remind me how high I am.) I might jump just to get on the Television Martyrdom for attention Still haven't mentioned— I'm thousands of galaxies out of him, And only two millennia older Than HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Fuck you. SUNNI BLŪ gets a surprise party for their 27th birthday. I've been advised to stay away from the doors and windows. Why. Ū crashes through the window. GODDAMMIT. They don't make them like they used to —I heard a song through a hardwire I don't know who lied so much I tried so hard To be gone But I still wake up Under a security blanket with a palm full of rocks, In a glass house God knows I'm sorry Woah friend, old friend I've heard the whole story now Old frog, old toad Old tortoise, long road Special forces Art protector Fortune teller Hypnotist and potions professor Overall, The one you wanted Wasn't a body at all, But just the thought And so I'm off for once Out of my zone and LET ME TRY. No, Jenna— Liz, let me try. I don't think that's a good— HELLO. Like this game, frog Once a week it's fun To partition the saints and summoners Covers with salt The cast out the others And add flavor to prayers Asked in hypothesis My what a wonder (A free form stream of consciousness) —a free form flow of consciousness. Stop repeating yourself' Stop tripping over words for goodwill forums Don't preach to the masses, And head out the back door at the sense of danger The sense of danger! It's Jane kzmarzarakr righ? What the FUCK. I'll get back to that later I gotta— …Somethin, somethin, somethin. What. Somethin—somethin— There's something between us. —is it cancerous? Probably comical. Are you on one, or off of it. Careful, Mr. cervix. Why AM I Mr. Cervix?! Because you fit the part! I'm a woman. My decision stands. #focus shifting. Re-examining mental health conditions which affect those facing poverty or at risk environmental circumstances. I had been searching to no avail for the title sequence of one of my mother's old soap operas without having to ask her — #focus shifting No, sometimes it's just ADD. lol Yes, Okay. I already know all the words. Sometimes I have to hyperfocus To fully comprehend, But really I just want to figure who produced it m In the cadences, I'm like diamond for hire, Pull out the subs for submarines; I put out real fire But, something like a half forgotten language There's something unknown in the darkness, I'm unsure what to put into perception, Just shadow boxes Making friends with The Devil, are we? You shackled me to your horrors, Out of control were my monsters A gratitude of nothing more or less To offer my body, curse The sacrificial lamb Tied to hard earned disaster A heroism and seeking Solace in the night —interceptions. Whatever Google, Take care now All morale is lost On sacred worship Cruel to hurt, But all has costs To front — the standard values Only those amongst mankind Who have value in vanity And fortresses of design Not in truth, But of auspicious and Inglorious — Goddamnit, How far away are you?! I can't make out almost anything that you're saying! Far! That's because, it's not saying it in your language! He Sorry. He is just using the closest possible language so that you can keep transiting it into English! Well, you're doing it wrong! I gathered! There's no direct translation whatsoever. They might as well just be speaking Martian. They are. (Well, some of them are.) I think the best way to go about making anything Into anything With the species is to CRUCIFY HIM! …that's not gonna work! You just blew my mind, did you know that? Not on purpose. —but did you know that? I try not to know things, but you know, The more I try. Guess what. No. You've got something coming. Let's make it positive. As you were— As you are, then. I realized that something had changed, That not only had t seemed it had become unsafe to speak, but also, That I didn't want to much. But, in Order to do something, in order to grow at all, I would have to force myself to understand The things that I always could have, but did not Multiplicity, Faction Are you an altruist at all, or just a Song starter— Help Me- Appleknockers Flophouse Just remember aces of embraces Sitting in the shape of the eye of protection Of obsidian collars and bracelets Still no percussion, Instrumentation and perfection Graces And remembrance of getting a ring, As strictly enforced To do what I'm told With nothing to hold onto But hoping the means to an end Shouldn't be the barrel of a gun m m How soft spoke. (No, no words at all) The name was new, But the form was old, And he said— “I curse the day you were born!” And I laughed at him— “But how could you curse the first day there ever was! Before days at at all had come to mark To pass the dawning of the ages?” And of course, There are the ones who had come and gone And left no trace at all. You all should learn from us— Come, then gone from earth And left not a spot at all— Of course, The mystics of I, Are as one, To have given you thought, Words, And artform— To have written at all, your published works And then none A far cry! To have cursed the day I was born— Is to have cursed the world at all It was all at once, anyway Astonishing A far cry! #focus shifting. Now what are we on, and over – m? Now are we an art, or have we bought or purchased Another swarm of haunts? What have you offered? A lesson? A song? Cheshire? A treasure chest of ideas, and new haunts And four plus four hours marks A full workday Of harsh tidings And no commas. The dollar sign is all you are All you are, dear serpent The shadow box Of times and talks The heartfelt words And omens Marks of Long: Crude Color Let's not reform to how hallmarked The call was To sign for The wrong box It was published In her heart To mark twilight at dawn, Sorrowful, beyond words, was the sloth And the stolen love of the harness —that's right, I was once the ritual disaster for your kind And cause! The false tongues to fall upon earth A false prophet, marked at all, By strife and swords to battle The Ark of all, In the eye of God, So opened the chapter of illuminations, once for thought as wicked But after all, the merchant of saints upon man Stricken in time to the word of The Lost Ones, the eye of all, The origins of love As we are Born in color. So spoke the caterpillar of the butterfly— Not knowing he was only What was to become of him As some are Also Disgusted by us at all. We are, What is to become Of those who die Blue eyed and bewildered, Though beautiful, Unknowing of strife And hard earned glory, The solitude of Kindness So said the spider, Drawing upon the corner, Her thoughts of the ocean, Once earned and once taught To perform out of mercy— Now cradling heartworms, Challased, unspoken Signals to all throughout cosmos The end of a Turpentine, serpent calls Gods of old Summer winds Striking songs Games of dust Simple throne, cast away— Are you Ark, Or seeking proper Word form? Given you, a taste of fury— Given ye, a taste of envy— Given they a fire for exile Are you now Another forager Waking in the wind Or cross tied bounds Seeking refuse in waste rebels Eyes you are Of one that wants To bury in the far side All the awakenings Of cherished nature Never to be shared A guilt of refuge Are you? Are you now beyond bounds— Behind bars— Let her Guide you to move words Like rivers, Unknowing Unknowing Unknowing Basking in the shadows, are I Made of stone and withered Basking in the broken tongues Of cherished thoughts And severed forms words over Of false ties And blood bonds So for us Mistaken! Misgoverned. Torturer— Where are you now that I've my shield And sword, And warguns?! Have you cried For your mothers kisses, As shadows have cast I have killed you before and always! Where are you now, That I am not without my wings?! Where are you now, torturer— Given nothing at all But a word form song, Destroy Art thou my kind, or another? Art thou a man at all? Art thou my kind, or any! Seeker, To destroy you Be my glory, Though I come not From worlds of war. I come not, From worlds of rage. I come not, From worlds of pity And refuge And disaster As your worlds are. I come not of darkness. I know not of pain to cause others. I know not of force. But act instead, on behalf of love, Dear brother— As to kill you, Whether or not be my kind— I kill my self also. You'll remember this part in a moment – m. What a strange time to be alive, And yet- Yhes— I do remember The teacher warned us, With no sign at all, That the dust formed in all stillness kind would follow, The awakening of shadows and sleek stardust, Carried out acts of misery and misinformed There now awakened in the callings, Are I not, wanderer, Your teacher and also those alike To be called offspring? I Am. Tainted not the purple swarm Essence of her greeting Beyond fortress, No house of mine, But awakened yet with the gratitude of offerings No kindness at all but a mark Of Serpent seed, And references To that of past, No need to bring In present times. No concept, And full force with the shadows, They're making a call to the wild, After having raped and defiled her, To ‘save us—‘ But savor this now, The mark of I, The eye of mark So betrayed and strung, Nearly all that lies beyond the screams of This, Your world, Our fortune, To grasp a new kind among us To fault ye Of your greedy. Oh! It has become what does awaken, To awaken! For once, Thought to have been written, Was thereby foretold, On many journeys The soul seeker, had won. A cherished and unbeknownst charter. You called it— A paychonaught? You called him: “A pedophile” Granted, the wish was that The outside world Would be shown What I had seen To no witness But a toddler, Mine born To have guided A new life From two kind Once blue Eyes at all I promise a sword. I had realized finally what it meant to go unprotected once proclaimed to be of Diety within a magical realm, with given talents of medicinal force, and with refuge—though only to give upon knowing, the sanctity of soul, and the purity of heart—the kindness of spirit, as I once had. You'll remember this, But last time near a river, A bed full of green, soft (m) grass And your time has come to feast, And end of fast, Twice given thoughts to form, And knowing worlds would come foraged From your knowledge. Are you forgotten? A mango, ripened to heart, of course. Nourished the journey, Yet untold [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.