THE NETWORK.

I am conflicted, constricted Ostracized for my addictions… ‘A married muse— very nice.” It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day, but there was work to be done, and things approaching, things moving as they squally did around me, but today with more relax—I had taken a my first day off from the gym in weeks, and was feeling rejuvenated, but ready to hit the pavement —my new workout equipment on its way, as not to say, there were other things I had been focused on working out, internal and otherwise—and I found it almost curious to continue to ponder on what one much sort of think as taboo, but for some reason, wasn't, I was safeguarded. For the first time in years, my muse, not chosen, however more bestowed upon me, was a married man—which meant, my falling in love with him was baseless, if unremarkably atoned, and temporary as it should have been, and yet, all the more plentiful. I still had added to my portfolio as I had with my other men in forms of songs, further words, and poems, though bemused as I was and finding it all the more appalling— it was all for the sake of the art, I needed none more than the facts I had been faced with—the fame— the soul that danced inside a handsome body, and of course— the thing it was that called to my own, a God in a sense of sorts, for in the years that had come I had learned from my love, I could draw infinite art—though what with it to do, I knew not. Finally, it didn't matter— there was no chance in the world of the love to be born in the physical world, and for that I was safe and protected— to dream, and to fantasize at will, and unlike some others, I knew myself never to harm or wish to harm one other's well being— I would not dare to be such that marriage didn't matter; I was, in my heart and somewhere in my seeking soul, a good woman. Or at least—good enough to know better, and for now, no better was good, than to write, and to dream, sifting songs and sonnets in my oil soul as it was, a lover's fantasy; and a fantastical one at best. To new adventures, with a younger man. Much younger than I, however older than once thought, it was almost an honor had struck, another magician, and master of art. Take it slow take it all in On a long walk Smell the roses, Don't slip, Don't choke Don't talk about it Hide your love Piss them all off Walk the dog Slit your wrists When the whole world Is all him, The man who hit you And the justice system Trusts him And his light skin The right color In the trump era Now that's a Cold War son's coming up, Time to run 411 The 555 Is done for A parked car With no gasoline at all Just remember I control the gangstalkers The dumb blondes The hot Caucasians The dog walkers And the ones wearing stars For the counter curse Here's a curve ball Serve your punishment For wanting it What was it before? Love What is it now? God Mirrors at an angle Can't see myself So I'm finally invisible Is it Psy or Sai I'm depressed because I don't know how to publish anything and I can't stop writing; I don't know what to do with anything I've written, And I'm always, Constantly stressed about money The things I need, And feel I should be working As if I haven't written more than what some writers with notoriety and fame have or had written in their lifetimes And now, to think, the fame and notoriety seem so small to me; I really just want the money and to be able to go away To some place quiet and peaceful, And to hold my son again. Shout out to the bass pod That's probably why my minds gone Shout out to the old God Your lady is a robot I am the programmer Might need a controller Take it all apart Put it back together I ain't in the ghetto Certified, it's gentrified Ah, dag. What. I missed the helipads AH DAG?! We're about to die, and all you can say is “ AH DAG” THERES MY INVISIBLE MOTORCYCLE. SHHH. Sorry. Unh.OUCH. Sorry. Well, I'm fresh out of [explitive] There's on FUUUUUUU—— F-f-f-f This is not cool! I have magical powers! HEY, watch it! That's odd—it should be cool having magical powers. It's not cool! I don't know what to do! What do I do with my hands! AGGHHHHHH. Well first of all, stop blowing shit up. [Dillon Francis is somehow, just—not famous; he is at camp EDC, being a wooky wook] READ: [Dillon Francis is a wooky wook. ] Correct. Damn, that is— Woah. That is wook. King James is getting into this narrative real deep Let's see why, I fictionalized this dick just to rationalize quickly What a king is I sing good, Cook dinner Me look awesome “Kill the kid,” they called for Another round, And another run So here I come I'm coming up On up-down rollercoasters Cardboard for your cup Cupboards, rocks and cutters Underwater, wishing of surfboard For sure mom, you kinda suck The energy from those is daughters But I wonder what it's worth If stars fall from the sky, To cross lovers Whatever Just a 30 rock crossword I'm Sunnï Blū but, Tracy just a replacement of me Sure it was I'm done God, I fully fucked up. Good job By putting all of my words into google documents In forms of proses and poses Instead of posing for pictures Or asking for roses It doesn't matter what happens The dirt was mud, But I rose up Like no one thought I could From sinking sand And ash dust In God, we don't trust the justice system Fuckin me up Keeping me married to pedophile A while longer So I fuckin die In due time What is right will find the judge And God of all on earth Will tell the story of Starr, And how he tossed his son on the couch Just to punch his mom Yep. He yeeted my baby I eated the nothing The revenge plot twist comes When Skrillex cosmic something Something some It was a downward spiral I was a backwards a hole And my scholarship Cussed out my mother Called her a cunt In her own country Cunty-cunty What the fuck you want? A doorknob that talks and locks A cat or caterpillar to smoke with And karma to choke Starr Like he golf balled And followed me all the way to Brooklyn Just to piss me off Just like a pussy I started the second book Where I left the first one off At Whole Foods market Where I left my snotted scarf at If you support Starr, You're more retarded than I thought If you support War You're better off Swallowin a gun, Like his mom Cause Mike Roberts Beat her up If you support Starr You're probably a predatory gangstalker But what for? You don't even know You got a small award For taking a walk Supporting physiological terrorism But never even Bothered to read the Terms of agreement: They said “Kill this nigger bitch” Keep her from getting any money or education So she can never be president I'm just a DJ, man But since then I've had secret enemies trying to kill me By psychology So they can see me die By my own hand And nothing can ever lead back to them That's how terrorism works, ya'll You're worried about Gaza When genocide happens right in the subway car On your way to work Where they make you late on purpose Even if you leave early Trying to workout, write a book, and leave your apartment looking perfect Who would deserve this? You think you're so perfect, But youre cursed by words, And worthless I think this earth is covered in stuff that it shouldn't be I think I'm 5'7 but the man of my dreams is 5'3 so I been meeting in the middle and stopped eating meat, Hanging from trees praying for freedom Cause something diseased has been following me coughing Like I'm the one who started poverty If that's the case, I must really be God or something But i'm not yo, I dropped my wallet on the bus, And somebody got a come up. A human error I need my hair done. I'm aware you're up there somewhere cause I hear you in my left ear, Jesus left us right here Cause the end is near When everybody's taking the side of a wifebeater And my eyes are wide closed Cause I still owe klarna money on my clothes This nobody is throwing weights, And nothing makes sense Cause karma's gonna take him Heavy, like the weights is Throw your weights pussy I was late coming But ain't had a rest day in 8 crazy days straight It's Christmas in LA Hollywood that is, Here's the blacklist: I hate blacks when They do that shit, Act whack like fucking crackheads Codeswitch like it isnt just niggers vs niggers The only enemy is inner, Fuck it, I'm late for dinner I been here nearly an hour, And lost my power to some animal wired to an app Fuck this matrix, I want my power back {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.