TERRORISTS.

The third day of fast had been light nutrients by way of liquids only, though it didn't seem to satiate whatever else it was I might have needed, besides some sort of adoration or companionship, my human need for love set aside by some ravenous monster, now I had a plethora of ingredients which might make up some hearty dishes, and though I wished to feast, as it was feast Friday, I also needed it to last, havi stocked up more well rounded than usual on things that I needed, having gathered ingredients I had nearly often almost missed without taking multiple trips to the store, which I was determined not to do—the world was gross and full of coughing robots again, and that meant it was time to retreat into my cave, whether or not I was meant, and my urge for money over freedom nearly winning at every corner at which I was told “turn back”. And I was, being told by some voice to “turn back”, although it seemed to have come from within rather than without, and still I couldn't much do to more than escape the disasterous horrible people who buzzed around outside like mindless bots, one of which I was becoming, the more time I spent on the ground, seeking menial work for menial pay, as not to be coupled up and left to commit an atrocious suicide by the horrid motorcyclists and car enthusiast without a care for anyone besides themselves, in that the noise they were making nearly all day and all night at times, was so painfully disturbing to some, that it had indeed begun to make me sick, not just in my head, but in my minds body, and soul. I could not trust such carelessness to be anything but that of the devil's work, to which some claimed pride in doing, and to which some others were thoughtlessly unaware, of everything, if not themselves. The grotesque demonic-looking people-creatures were at best subhuman, and as I had explained in my interview just the day before, that it was probably due to the mass consumption of products not fit for consumption at all, let alone nutrition purposes, neither of which the higher ups had seemed to care, burdening the poor upon themselves. I was not seeking to be doomed to remaining forever poor, and thought it best I collect as much money and acquired wealth as possible, before the times were shifted and I were forced into worse circumstances than my own—my beautiful but not peaceful at all, luxury apartment, just three stories above Hell and it's subterranean shithoe of mass transit and transients, however though I did find heavenly spiritual bodies to sometimes dwell and encapsulate within the system—old, sunken, good spirits, lost souls, and others, of whom I considered myself as one with, however, in the opposite of 253schemehorn ace hotel lobby Caaaarrieee, Carrie baby! chapter ⅔ ? “DJ's don't Sleep” I was nervous but holding it well, I had all that I needed and was hoping it was worth it; I hadn't worn heels in months and hadn't the money for new hair or nails, and so it was as bare bones as it would get, my one nice outfit besides a body on dress I decided would not be worth the trouble and might attract the wrong sort of attention anyway—#€{}{ was some kind of work in the morning, though I wasn't sure what, and although I didn't plan to stay long, I also hadn't wanted to arrive too early to really see what kind of party it was, just short of overdue and on the entire of fashionably late, but that the very least I did look fashionable, and however tired i was, something had to be done to at the very least make an appearance, and maintain posture and presence, maybe at some point gaining back the social abilities I had lost being homeless and isolated, not that I wanted much for real socialization that wasn't absolutely fulfilling. Sad, on my way to a party Thinking bout somebody that don't even want me Tired as hell But this better be good Let me dance and get out of my shell a Get out of my head a bit And just chill Say the alphabet, Just trying not to blow it Sad, on my way to a rager I brought my pager But I hope it don't ring I don't need nothing But someone to love me I'm actually working It stopped being fun to me When suddenly Everyone around me Was me What's up with that Tom and Jerry Peter Paul and Mary Walk into a bar And ask for the ball park Where's it at? They're ll lost Where's my hat, u Well never mind that I think I dropped my fanny pack Funny pick — Bro I pocket wrote this and decided to keep it for that dimension where my misspellings and typos are opening portals to other dimensions and shit Ok. Nice. Uh ugh du uh yuxuvu y u. I. U uru Maybe at the yucu DD ine the s and found Truth uuto eu euvuuvvv You can get it back up uguuuvuvvuuuuufuu just a t dumb idea who edoesn't She said uuuuguuuuuue s essay But that's a long re uuzzeezjj e A zzz To come down To u uuuzeze S It was shameless self promotion, but the. Again, what for wasn't—I wasn't having any fun, and I almost remembered the night, and something in me wanted to dance, but it was almost as if I couldn't move, or suddenly even, Uuuuuxhis u szzzuuuuuxxdxucouldn't speakuudg. I didn't duS uuto belong on the dance floor— but how and when would I ever become the ugh I was uuDJ Uuu c u, if ever? I thehadw bruh there a grueling 8 uminutes and U u u uucready tog leave, but w?uhhh ughucuuhxu b by uuuuuue I haddock a pocket full of hu and a uggyuuhuuuu uxc UuudThoughu u u dueh huh h uh uh bubudy to be g W u use udguuuuyu. Uuuducguu u tc uhugetting your own house cgun u u Ndiogou N LMH 1812 {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.