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*

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

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

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

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

{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

Oh shit. They're gonna kill him. No… They're gonna set him on fire first, then they're gonna kill him. What's the difference. —the fire. FIRE! Dammit, it's Skrillex again. Wat is it this time? He's got cannonballs. Goddammit! What did I write! I don't know yet. You haven't read it yet?! And… post… No, I just wrote it. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE

Trigger warning: this series contains adult content not suitable for children or under the legal age of majority.Listener and reader discretion is advised as this broadcast and its selected readings and projected writings contain explicit language, provocative wordplay, profanity, open expression of suicidal ideation, discussion of evolved/ de-institutionalized theories concerning depression and mental health, race relations and colorism, socio-economic inequality, political injustice and media

At some point, I realized that going to the gym for two hours every other day was the same thing as going to the gym for one hour every day—kind of. I was still avoiding the strange robots around ny building which seemed to only lurk during the daytime hours— I had remained largely offline for the last couple days, resting and working quietly in the daytime in order to attempt to shift my sleeping schedule to allow my workouts to occur into the nights when others most likely couldn't

Be My Lover Lla da di [Redacted] I once was trapped within the prison of my own garden. Something inside me yelped for this faraway spirt guide to shut up—but I was all the more ready to fry up the remainder of my tempeh, and continue to wallow in my loveless grief , wondering what would become of this undone monster—the disaster that was my own impossible maze of creation, however with gratitude, that I was standing in an immaculately clean kitchen, with a table full of books,

The Festival Project™ and it's subsidiary Non-Profit, The Collective Complex © aims to challenge modern artistic and philosophical ideals, break commonplace barriers, forage new creative mediums, and provoke inspired and reformed thought and actions toward evolution and overall societal improvement through a new-wave and post-modern, avant-garde and philanthropic hyperawareness driven by a unique culture of global values mediating global respect and preservation via open consciousness,

Why is he so perfect And I even more of a ghost, than he ever would be –the hanged man What's another world Or the word on my shoulders Who better than God to belay me Betray you Atreyu Tell me Mr. Pretty Perfect Face if we could be at heaven's gates The day i finally hang or fade away (The hanged man) What's it like To be loved To fall in love To be loved like that How's it feel To fall in love To be loved at all What's it lke To be loved To be loved like that To

Everything over there Sounds extracurricular Particularly caricature of particle exteriors The network owns that man I can never see past that Subliminal messages on the wire His spare time is dollar signs — I live wire Cut the line Ten Jimmy Fallon's for Dollar signs More wordless songs, heartless Pray for mothers and fathers Sons and daughters Sisters and brothers (I'll see you never) Doses of blow Sermons phrases Words and flows Pillow talking to no one Bet it all on a

{Enter The Multiverse} Now I'm wondering what the fuck they did to Obama Some shit he can never talk about bro. Some shit, What they do to Kamala? For real! White supremacy is on some psychological terrorism shit, They don't even gotta touch you no more . They'll kill you with your own fucking mind Frequencies and shit The brain is electric. And the soul is not always attached. Your whole ass soul can abandon ship on some trauma shit— Real fuckig talk. I leave my body a little bit

“Impossible!”, I murmured, after a deep gasp, as I removed from my braziers in preparation to soak after a short but intense workout, not the stone I had with intention placed in my bra, but another. “Magic indeed!” , I thought to myself. I had in some fell swoop of blessings been by any luck or wishes sake, gifted a heap of new books, and new furniture—the latter of which I really hadn't needed, however, with a newly refreshed idea of reimagining my studio and

“Impossible!”, I murmured, after a deep gasp, as I removed from my braziers in preparation to soak after a short but intense workout, not the stone I had with intention placed in my bra, but another. “Magic indeed!” , I thought to myself. I had in some fell swoop of blessings been by any luck or wishes sake, gifted a heap of new books, and new furniture—the latter of which I really hadn't needed, however, with a newly refreshed idea of reimagining my studio and

Get away from me. I'm a hologram. Far away, please I am very far from you– Well get further. I'm in another dimension actually. What do you want, dude? I always finish what i start. What the fuck does that mean?! How should I know?! You wrote it! Then how are you gonna finish it? That's not what I meant. Then what did you mean?! Look! I don't know! All I know is, I did a movie and you wrote it! Just one movie or a whole saga! I don't know! Just write

She's a practical genius- An actual genius, they say, —but she'll never believe it. There's no more star struck Clouds strung together With bruises All the lies and all the lairs The layers of cake For birthdays missed A Christmas present, In lessons learned The Devil wishes For her to suffer Surely, she'll come around at some point But today, of course To her dismay, It's just attention deficit And jelly fishing Was the straight jacket really necessary? You said

For the first time in a long time, Or at least sort of a long time, I seriously considered suicide, And all jokes aside, it almost seemed like the only option for someone in my predicament In my mind— I would never be white, I would never be liked— And I would never have the chance of getting my projects into the right eyes Or heard by the right ears. The sounds of motorcycles made me want to die. I didn't want anything at all- Not music, not even love That is,