BGI TAPPED Sometimes, I write in Lin cadences Sometimes I pass time with Jim Fallon, I write behind closed eyes and white bars, Pigeons and white doves, While I get made fun of I tried to just let bygones by bygones But I can't cause I miss my son And there's no love in the bottom of class wars And harsh poverty; there's no brotherly love And New York just don't want me here Is this your card?! No motherfucker! Oh. Goddamn. You are bad at this. I thought I was! I told

Did you ever get the feeling that it might be right? Cause I woke up in the shit, And then I paid attention with resentment Had this Patrick for a second amidst the witching hour For a glitch or an instance power, The list, with a mix of here and now Or here and there Whatever you rather, Dan But I guess for now you call me Hamm, Cause I will Jon' you in an hour After all the words have been said Over and over again, you just get cleverer with em Face it, This is considerable damages

To this, a glitch— A wish that I could just Push my forehead into his chest, I digress, though repressed sexually and interested This sickness is just what he senses as sensual —And I'm understanding of that. —Purpose. I still have four muses, Four mouses, No heads A sad nd four robots Four hoses of cards And no forwards Just haloy endings That I can't Exactly plan yet Fuck this planet It appears someone has badly damaged it No recompenses or divorce No

OMG! RYAN SEACREST! Everyone forgot about you! I–thanks! *weird smile* Quickly! Get on the bus! We're already on our way to pick up K-FED. COPYRIGHT THE FESTiVAL PROJECT, INC. ™ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © -Ū.

It seems, People with money Do sick things To people without it And if Money is evil Then I think This is How they come about it Because I've been good so good And still Somehow I've had to be without it Not for clout But they come around And they love to take the light out Of my cloud, It just seems That the meaner you get The more you make And if this means, That I live below my means My life is a mistake And it's the dreams It seems That make me truly nothing Cause

July 28th

Did you ever get the feeling that it might be right?Cause I woke up in the shit, And then I paid attention with resentment Had this Patrick for a second amidst the witching hour For a glitch or an instance power, The list, with a mix of here and now Or here and there Whatever you rather, Dan But I guess for now you call me Hamm, Cause I will Jon' you in an hour After all the words have been said Over and over again, you just get cleverer with em Face it, This is considerable damages if

There's no such thing as yours and mine; We were all just thrown here There is no thing as up and down Or in or out– We're all just born to die here The theory or hypothesis of cloud based lifeform states that some humans, born with less conscious energy than others, are made in a basic state form and must be programmed by other forces of nature separate from one's direct environmental circumstances, but rather a synthesis of technological or even hybrid computational constructs within

Isn't it strange that I can write something, and not remember what I wrote the next day? I remember that I wrote it, and writing it, but not the words, really, or the structure. They make pictures in the documents, shapes that they themselves as things make imprints as etching but have never been seen, by anyone else but me, at least—and whoever is phishing in my documents. That's the dangerous part. I do remember Jimmy Fallon, or just glimpse of it—that's the other dangerous

MARTHA STEWART is having a bake sale when literally ALL HELL breaks looseMARTHA STEWART (sighing in disappointment, tossing down her spatula firmly) “I wanted it to be fun.” Do you sleep with a gun? Do you sleep with a gun? What is done in the dark, Comes to light just for fun What is done in the night, Tends to turn to the day Do you sleep with a gun? Do you sleep? Do you pray? It is early 19th century and almost nothing technologically speaking has become available,

Ugh, it's a fuckin riddle. *sad eyes* No fair. *super sad eyes* Super no fair *Super duper sad eyes* {Enter The Multiverse} YO! LETS GO TO TUBBY'S! YEEEAAAAAHHHHH! ITS TUBBY TUESDAYS!!! “TUBBY TUESDAYS?!” “Tubby Tuesdays” WELCOME TO TUBBY'S–I hope you're having a very Tubby day! We are now! Well, that's what I like to hear! Happy Tubby Tuesday everybody, right this way! All the tables are booths! …uh…okay. Before:

CARL COX curses BLŨ out in an extreme show of brilliantly vile COCKNEY FASHION. CARL COX [unintelligible cockney] BLŪ I have no idea what you just said, or why you're yelling at me! CARL COX (Sarcastically) Well how's this—? “Ello, poppet!” In THE DJ storyline )which is technically storyline a, we've just discovered DJ DILLON FRANCIS used BLU — (originally CC) as a sort of horcrux for his darkest magical intentions. Now the DJS are in a rush to extract this

The Collective Complex Foundation Art Series Mixes 001. CARL COX curses BLŨ out in an extreme show of brilliantly vile COCKNEY FASHION. CARL COX [unintelligible cockney] BLŪ I have no idea what you just said, or why you're yelling at me! CARL COX (Sarcastically) Well how's this—? “Ello, poppet!” In THE DJ storyline )which is technically storyline a, we've just discovered DJ DILLON FRANCIS used BLU — (originally CC) as a sort of horcrux for his darkest magical

Let's break this down with scientific research and data:1. Passive-Aggressive Hostility & Covert Racism Passive-aggressive behavior is an indirect expression of anger, hostility, or displeasure. Rather than open confrontation, it manifests in resistant, defiant, or undermining actions. When this behavior is directed towards individuals based on their race or ethnicity, it falls under the umbrella of covert racism or racial microaggressions. * Covert Racism: This is a form of racial

I'm no complete Christian, but the bizarre act of hacking and spewing and gasping by whoever was next door while I was reading the Bible was telling of its claims. “that girl really fucked you over.” I wasn't sure what exactly the voice was besides the voice of God itself, or maybe even the same voice who had warned me who'd win the election and was right, and so eternally and internally always kind of a voice I trusted, and besides that, I was sure it see right. The evil girl next

If this is a vault, I could get ambushed– If it were a parking lot, Then I could get robbed My plate was a lot, But i'm going back for seconds; Well, I walked right into that one It'll take awhile to work its way into words But for now, i'm still heart being hurt Does your stomach hurt? Did your eyes go wrong? No! I got hot all over, Wrote words to a song Worese is, I don't think Anything under the sun And all of esoterics Really string along the whole hypothesis I hope I off

…We have a weird connection, don't we? The scene was from The Television People, but the image was the clear as day vision of Patrick in a sunlit warehouse somewhere in Manhattan with one of his many lovers—somewhere in my mind, amidst the distractions, I was still trying to formulate the leeways between things I'd already written, and for whatever reason assembling an actual plot for its pilot season. STEPHEN COLBERT enters and unbuttons his suit jacket— in trademark

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then

Every time I take him in I must remember the best thing That have ever happened to him As he said And whether or not the band Wraps around the bent and broken digit I just simply remember that, I'm just infatuated as a friend I mark it like a mantra Just as adequately as the director Calls to action All the actors at the set; With no resentments We're all just doing our jobs All just doing our jobs We're all just doing our… Lessons. Come back. Not quite. It's not (Uh) There

[The Festival Project ™ ] Look, I've got some… time. How much time we talking? Enough. Alright, what's that make us? A deal. Alright. But you have to be quiet about it. Body is a minimum concern But accolades, achievements, Education— If you want to know, A billion's the goal— There's a goldmine full of pretty, perfect women But what are you worth, And where is your value What are you, earth, sir? Where are your manners, and What are your