I will let this computer use me.
It can use my eyes, my fingertips, my ears.
This umbilical cord should be sliced soon.
The sounds of disembodied guitars, drummmmmmmms, and persistent bass guitar filter through my drums.
Broken sticks of wood prove the burden of these times. Shards of glass will drive you out of this town.
The blinding headlights behind will drive you out of this town.
blargh
- April 29, 2003
- the_combover_g
- No Comments
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