I, sir, I honor you my proxy

And what will with what you make take of that, my beast and brawn affronted;

That to no matter to which I may stand as though offered to the Gods,

I am at bare my force and wary feast upon thy eyes as swarms,

And then to no may have you since!

I am at all, my eye, your arm,

And hallowed crucifix!

CHAOS shatters into a FIRE of FEATHERED fury and precedent mercury of volcanic embering magma and sparse clouds of silver and gold, while though first bleeding from the mouth he is engulfed in flame at once, becoming not unlike the Phoenix, a galaxy into his own forever escaping and never ending realms.

Ahhh, you're right.

YO WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?

That's ludicrous!

ah huh, I know, right.

You took all that?

Yep.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Sire,

Your honor.

I am bound.

I have been forged.

The crown.

Certainly.

Your high marks!

Aye…

You've been betrayed.

…To no doubt.

I am obliged to confront, your majesty, at all hours and in this your fortress—

—your honor—

And Chaos, that this, though there be your throne,

Cannot bear weight of rock and stone to rebel archer,

That which I am tied to seek,

dear honor,

Your vary mercy that there I,

Here too, am slain!

Damn.

Creep shit, huh.

Yeah.

Why does Colbert get all the best parts?!

Because he's capable of reading these types of monologues from cue cards!

That circuit.

He has a bigger cause than you know.

[Redacted]

It wasn't that I thought I was actively being watched, but more along the lines of knowing for a Friday, my mind wouldn't drift elsewhere and upward beyond, to the sixth, seventh, 8th or 15th floors— or whatever other crazy shit was apparently above them.

Secret places I knew of and often thought about, but not too hard. It boggled my mind what was beyond and out of focus from the lower realms of New York, where it was dark and often dirty and hurtful to even wander.

My breaths became deep and hollow;

They won't turn your face to you,

But they will burn through your whole world, wanting you undone

Following sealing knives, half have no concious

And tethered tongues—

This is Levels,

Watch us

This is Levels,

On your mark,

This is levels,

Christ conscious,

This is Levels,

Boats on the dock,

Storm water,

Pure thoughts of harm,

But also luck,

Drifting in that same water,

Ducks,

Not known in here our land, or others.

You are no longer closer nor called for what you want

It doesn't get that much more simple, nor more complex

It doesn't get less disheveled than ‘anyway.'

I suffer surface just to suffice this sauna trap

It doesn't get any less leveled that two tall towers, September 11th.

It doesn't get differentiated or dismissed, either,

Without press involvement

You got to love an easy bake oven and a handful of drama;

You've got to love the plausible options for objections and motions to show cause

You have got to love old folks and hard laughs, got to!

You've got to love the cosmos for at least trying to show us God back,

Though god turned back on us a month ago,

Or so it was written

More hard times

And more cold half's

And limbs lost, and marks and mauve and cranberry fortunes.

More dusks and more dawns and more mortals but no heart left;

No call to arms if you were worn backwards for your half.

Now time for the calm but the ball bearings not lose but close hard down when you tip the nose up not to dive but force up the wheels as lifting planes does but you are donuts and dusk and dawn, and you are clutching stones in pockets,

Four for corners of those the rock has,

And that,

North south, East west,

And these days give gratitude,

For wire stakes and high makes this time for more time deaf authors,

Still no mortal walk has I,

And still indifference to her call, my fortune is in death which may be cause to no one to suffer,

As I have not love,

And I have not friends,

And I have not bonded and therefore this betrayal from where there speaks my meadow and assault have again lied, as devil does against all time.

And so I smile, there, and welcome death, form withered birds did wander and then, before my eyes evolved to dust which then did sparkle,

And there setting into scattered grains of sand.

For which her shores were thought of,

not as birds, but sure enough as rocks to till and thunder;

And magnanimous waves you did there found I,

Making graves and also these as caves, and banks, and ways to think her mazes as a construct.

So now there, you are conformed,

And all but may you came to offer.

So there then shall tipping this and waves had planted oceans from my martyrs,

And so again I called to brothers and also the fathers formed, as I had thought to know, these times and others as a motion [to show cause]

So shattered banks and blanks my checkbook, scattered eyes though blue have yet been battered black and darkened;

And also that became of which her office was unboxed, there was no work there,

For her thoughts had caused the forests and winds to suffer from her art, therefore.

There is no homeland, now or here or either,

Shall I wonder?

And then frayed her mark and also frayed this flag did fly for shame and horror.

So there, did also Chaos sit and lack and gripping rope upon there crosses, also did my eye to mind,

Him to a rope, but had departed.

So I watched him hang from the noose,

Though loosened grasp from known the ballet dancer, also then became the rabbit

This of past and present.

Ah,

Fuck with me. I want you to.

Aye aye.

What is his power?

Just wait for it…

I don't think this is what you want it to—

Just wait.

Just listen?

Listen to what?

The man is just— blabbering.

The cadence in his voice though; it's a rhythm.

What,

The cadence! In his voice—

Mm. McDonald's.

Okay?! But why are you saying—?

Wait a minute.

Wait what?!

Play the tape back, and boost the audio.

What for.

Just do it, Mark. This costs a fortune and he's taking up all of our—

THE MAN IN THE BOX has exploded.

— time.

What just happened.

I told you he would do it.

And we missed it.

I don't get it.

Where is he?

There's no way of knowing yet.

Check the grid.

It's not… that simple….

Well then! Check the cadence. Or something

! Whatever you said. Jesus, I hate these alien motherfuckers!

He's not an “alie

What—?

He's just— I mean—

I do not understand.

—he's human he's just— these ancients are gifted with— [sort of]

Gifted?! You call that gifted?! He exploded into a fireball of feathers and— whatever this is— what is it?!

It appears to be volcanic ash, sir.

WHAT?!

I'm moving backwards, forwards, backwards— forward time and time is dust from now on,

I am in the end of my shattered and half lived life,

Though bonded body to not my soul, which seeks not love and light, the morsels of the marker of my kind,

And this to fill my aching desire to—-

— now you've gotta run.

From what?

THE—

AAAAhahsHAHSHjhabdbsnNadbdbamamBSBDNAGAGHAHghahsbabahaa!!

WHAT WAS THAT.

I DONT KNOW. I JUST HAD SIX ORGASMS.

[BLACKOUT.]

{Enter The Multiverse}

DANE COOK wakes up from a VERY HARD NAP.

…what just happened?

This is your fault. You caused that.

Okay. Gun in my face. I've had things, but not that.

Get up.

Jesus Christ. Just calm down.

This is my calm.

[The Festival Project ™]

Do not panic.

What the fuck are you telling me.

Just stay calm. Do not panic.

Don't panic what!

That.

Oh.

You showed us what you are.

No I did not. You want that?

Uh…

Just when you think you have me all figured out,

I promise, it's not that.

He has a gun! Fall back!

Oh shitsauce, what in the fuck is going on!

I may have had to stop and think for a moment

‘Where the fuck was I going?”

The problem was I knew I already had the answer, and it was

“Nowhere, fast.”

...

Socumopolus Open On The Operating Table