SUPERNOVA.

Not so all of a sudden, he was gone—just as I had thought and hoped, publishing a small portion of The Files had sent the strange ghost somewhere far away—almost gladly so. It could never be a good thing to feel for something like that—not the man, the one who was called [Redacted] himself, but rather his essence. He was a good boy—almost too good, kept it clean, and always hit his mark—I, on the other hand, had work to do, and the only commonality we shared seemed to be some kind of darkness— a twisted monster of some depravity, always unspoken, and yet, somehow forever bound between our humanities as bodies— man, and woman. Whatever it was, I missed it—it was nice having an imaginary friend—a muse, a blank canvas—and more importantly, a smile or a laugh here and there. But alas, the emotional ties had come on too strong, a s all safe bets were off— there was nothing that could be said or done at all, and so as a means of protection, I chose to bury it. Still, something like tears sat in the space between my heart and my soul for him—to have never been dumb enough to love so wholly enough to trust that I had not in some way been provoked or altered to such a state like something like this might happen—a sign of the times. A beautiful man, talented and having danced with my mismanaged Sapio-self in such a way that it at the be try least had been— a learning experience. I was still only beginning to understand what the cosmos had intended here, and still—such a mess it was, now needing the body of a real man more than ever, and fiending for something more than a friend, something more than the fantasy which I had dreamt into, and scurried out of—now knowing at the very least, I was, too, a good woman. “I miss him', I silently sighed into a wandering whisper in my mind, filling the space where his voice—his essence once had been, now just a ghost in my mind, a quick light in all the darkness that had been Kayla Lauren, Dillon's awful blue eyed girlfriend, and whatever it had been about Joel that had left me wondering why I had been born into such a hell in the first place—a married muse was the safest bet, for the shortest time, with the strongest strings attached—and now that I had cut them myself—the strings, that is, I was left to drift alone. Now I really did have something interesting to write--how I had fallen in and almost never out of love enough to have written an infinite wisdom of divinity and circumstance which might even last forever. Without finding a love that was reciprocated, I would surely die—already rotting in the hell of my own body as a tomb, and yet, here they were—all the words of all my loved, cast upon the pages of my thoughts, looming over me like clouds—heavy enough to rain, but without doing so; the bluest sky there ever was beyond them, and I just beneath, crying—looking for a sign that soon a true love would come. One I could touch and feel and hold and kiss—but only God could know—and God was quiet as of late, hiding from the evils of man just outside the window, keeping love and peace just out of reach at almost all times. Trust me I'd rather die than not Either way, I'll love you all the same It's unfortunate The wicked ones Atop us, with the fortunes With no one to love But piles of bodies, Power plays and flaccid phalic Valid fantasies and tragic Dissatisfaction All those bottles And all those bodies And all those models You still can't mount a horse. All that power And all that money And you don't want me But she doesn't do much But want to love Pity no one up there seems to know what is does Love, is for us The ugly under you Trust me, I'd rather die tonight Than wake up alone Foaming in the mouth With no one there to froth with Trust me I'd rather die than not Either way, I'll love you all the same I guess I'm slag bro Another attack It's fine; I'm just not attractive Not even fit for his Side piece of ass How's that go? What's that life Just take a knife to my back Cause I can't go back bro I went black bro Flatline He caught my eye, Then I went flat broke If I could draw a line up my spine And unwind the entire world I would, though If I could tie a knot to the knot in my back And then just jump rope Off a long rope From a strong pole Here's hoping I told you the devil would be at the Whole Foods market You're better as a headless body, I promise I'm better as a bodiless head Better off dead than undressed; You'll detest me; A festering betrayal of love A bodiless hell The void from which you all come But can't conform to I'm ugly Tales of a Superstar DJ As Seen on TV Death of a Superstar DJ (uh oh, idk what that one would even be about) Maybe they're backwards. Uh. Sure. Reorder them. Okay. Tales of a superstar DJ, Death of a Superstar DJ As Seen on TV - to be released with album Hm. I love new York wtf my brain is on fire right now Idk. Idk. Idk. wtf is this energy. I'm out of protein. That might be it. I have built the ultimate tolerance to coffee This coffee is weak. It's actually double strength. It's almost espresso. Hm. I see. Did you ever finish those Jimmy-isms? What?! What?! What? Something something something. FUCK. What. Portal World. Cool, let's— Let's go to there. No, Lez Limon. What. The lesbian Hispanic alternate reality version of Liz lemon. lol. Okay. What about that pilot I wrote for maya rudolph! Idk. Where is it. I'm MELTING. Humiliation is the most tyipical form of psychological terror and emotional abuse.. Really. Mom, don't do that. What, why not? 5)8/ 8 This is uncomfortable. Is it? Hm. I like it. Shut up, Gerald. Fuckin piñata. She got the silver chains, now Ain't no vampires, Aint no more games, She playing for fame, Baby she made it A punch to the face Can make you creative. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.