/lit/ - Literature

Does the below paragraph give you any distaste in humanity as a whole?

>A young boy clutched to his mother's arm, crying, vomitting and crying again, with the helplesness of being innocent, being free from evil and knowledge; from power. A woman smiling to the guy she met after a concert or at a lousy bar -she forgot when, she doesn't care-, flirting, cheating and knowing it; enjoying the existence of another man; waiting for her, and waiting, and waiting. Bodies toppled on another, muscles streched, extended to grotesque lengths, faces wried with almost pain, pleasure signalling through fingers, lips, arms, legs and cock and cunt; all for triggering the release of some hormone. Another man slumbering in the lazy heat of the day on a couch in front of a TV which long ago switched itself to a dead channel; transmitting the soul of the man, saliva dripping from his mouth onto the crumbs of a sandwich or a burger on his lap. Mouths filled with greasy, goo-like food, unidentifiable from constant chewing; all mixed up into a mud-soup of extreme delicacies of wine, red meat and vanity. Disgusting to look at, delicious to feel on top of the tongue -if you have the guts. Eyes closed as if to help the mouth open more, so that more can be swallowed and digested, not tasted, but digested. Another pair of hands hang midair, casting a shadow on its owner's face; eyes reduced to a line; almost closed instinctively to protect themselves from the coming horror; the inevitable end applied with a force equal to the pressure of an elephant's step right onto your skull! A steel hammer is someone's final sight; release of some another hormone, but body is already leaking, getting cold before it mixes with blood. It's too late now. The other is burning red with fury, covered with blood, the whites of his eyes echo the dead, distant stars of a bygone epoch. It's too late now. Sun is dead and all life erased. Another pair of lips slightly curved; in broad daylight, to form a seemingly insignificant smile, covering up for lack of something, and as an excuse to have more; an irrational reasoning is going on in the mind of the smiling at that very moment; to prove himself that he himself is right; and only he is right. Another faces a mirror, looking to herself, looking into herself and seeing nothing beyond; but only flesh; not only looking but also feeling like a sculpture; cold, beautiful and soul-dead. Shoulders get wider as the eyes move down on her body; striking a straighter pose that is the shadow of the thoughts in her mind. A marble pride in flesh.

Thank you!

Hi /lit/
I need a new book to read but I can't really decide which one to buy.
It's either
Dr. Bloodmoney
Valis trilogy
or
The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch

I'd really like to read Palmer Eldritch, but the book is only avialable in english. A version in my own language would cost 30 bucks and that's too much for me.