Sunday 14 November 2010

Cutcutcut.

So I found a thing that lets you cut up text William Burroughs-style. The results don't quite work, but with a bit of editing (mostly the removing of the odd word, the addition of the occasional comma, full stop or conjunction) it can come out mildly interesting. Obviously, you're only going to get out what you put in, but I thought it was amusing enough to put up here.

Harder than a bus to the face. You, you might actually enjoy yourself. No bug? Then that's fine too. I'm not in your war, I see your death face, that fleshy vessel that is simply exhalation, just as you've squeezed paradise. I can't tell you how much there is you, I love the red meat. I was going to help, they're going to findfuck you, eat you. Try it, I dare you. another human being's flesh, in for the long haul. And if I ever get the voice of god? The last words before you: chase you, hunt you, kill you. I always had boundaries, you know? Now fun. I have pretending. I'm here for greed. I'll be someone else's kill. There's nothing, there's only the exquisite taste. It's like hearing the panic, panic has hit these streets, never thought I'd enjoy tearing. Never a good person, I wasn't meant to be. Will run and hide, but nothing's you. Going to have a ball.

I'll ravage anything, I do it for the penultimate drop of life; out of thrill. I don't do it for the women, gasp. There's that. Finally, for this earth, but before the plague.

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