XenoKnowsALL

Born with nothing but hunger and hurt, a 40-year-old soul is reborn in the body of a homeless Brooklyn stoner—and gifted with the divine ability to grow perfect cannabis in seven days. But instead of chasing hype, he builds a sacred legacy from the dirt: weed with intention, healing with fire, and culture with care.

Alongside Maya, a visionary artist, they transform their struggle into a global movement—From the Dirt—expanding across dispensaries, fashion, food, education, and spiritual growth.

From rooftops to rituals, from corner stores to cathedrals, this is a story of grief, glory, grind, and grace.

Because some things aren’t grown.
They’re remembered.

From the Dirt: Bloom Anyway

The buzz around From the Dirt was no longer a whisper.

Graffiti tags had started popping up around the borough—spray-painted crowns made of roots, sometimes under bridges, sometimes across cracked brick walls with just three words beneath them:

"Empire Poison Coming."

Darius didn't post. Didn't shout it online. But the streets?The streets always talk.

The plants were almost done—just ten days in, but under Darius's touch, they were exploding. Deep green leaves. Thick stems. Buds swelling with early trichomes, giving off that signature Durban sweetness—lemon, licorice, diesel, danger.

Maya was already deep in launch mode.

"I'm thinking a pop-up," she said, scribbling on a notepad. "Not a storefront. Not yet. But something real. Word-of-mouth only. Invite-only."

"Art gallery in Crown Heights. My cousin owes me a favor. One-night event. Low lights. Music. Weed jars in glass cases like art."

He nodded slowly, puffing on a test roll of Empire Poison.

🎨 The Drop Plan – Volume Two: Rise from Ruin

Event Name: FROM THE DIRT: VOLUME TWOTheme: "Power Grows in Silence."Product: Empire Poison – 3.5g jars, pre-roll 2-packs, limited merch dropPrice Point: $60 eighths, $25 pre-rollsVibe: Art + fire + movement. No weedhead chaos—just respect.

Maya brought in two friends from the art school to help with setup and design. Flyers were handed out—no digital trail, no IG. Just word on the block, in barber chairs, at laundromats and corner stores.

"Yo, you heard about that Empire Poison? Supposed to hit like lightning and clarity at the same time."

"I heard it's invite only. They ain't tryna sell, they tryna build a movement."

And just like that, Volume Two had a heartbeat.

🕶️ But the Streets Ain't Quiet

That Friday night, while Darius loaded labeled jars into a duffel at the laundromat grow, the buzzer rang.

Just an envelope on the ground, taped to a brick.

Inside:A photo of the grow space—taken from a distance through the back window.And a note:

Tone's signature move: a quiet warning before the storm.

Darius stared at the photo, his jaw locked.

Maya stepped beside him, reading it over his shoulder.

He set the photo on fire with his lighter, watching the flames eat it alive.

"Now? We throw the biggest drop this city's seen… and make it clear:

We don't fold. We flourish."

And as the last ember fell to the floor, the Empire Poison plants glowed under their lights—waiting to be harvested.

Chapter Twelve – Volume Two