{The Wizard.}

The no nonsense was Esha, but in actuality, it was something like a standoff at the tipping point, and I had decided that rather than to continue looking for jobs I didn't want, I had to make myself into a job—or better yet a product, and however long it would take to sort out the documents, I would stoop start, dividing my time between building my porfolio and repertoire, and organizing the documents, the latest of which were what I had so dauntingly called The Allegories, publishing as such an abridiged and redaction of everything I had written under the covenants of the oath, and as always, neither to kiss and to tell, I would redact any acknowledgement of an otherwise fatal attraction; there was nonesuch a body attached, however, as I had learned, just a soul. Wait, I don't get it. Why are they birds? Dunno, I— Kimmel— Aviary. Carson— Aviary. Now look here. There's a steady doctrine hidden within these words, and beneath these halls The words of worms, scrawled across The alter of which you shall not talk, But write, rather in word form, Spawned from One Come, now— But mustn't you follow. Battered, badly As not to trust The wisdom which is indeed your own Bestowed onto you by us Best not to stroke my frame, By the softest touch, For after all, I might wish to know you More often than already thought Bedamned, the damsel in distress. Know thee, now, your honor. Come forward, mistress, My master, The honor is yours, My matron, My honor, Come, Now upon us Atop the alter At your throne This dirty is thrust A heralded crown, Upon the head, So hung in taunted … What am I looking at? Something you'll look for will soon come running. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.