/lit/ - Literature

>>10964297
>It is now, beyond any argument or equivocation, snowing.

Urn Spill

Now as I was genderfluid and twinky under the apple bytes
About the lilting dorm and happy as the ass was phat,
The night above the quad smoggy,
Time let me whine and shitpost
Based in the soyboys of his eyes,
And honoured among faggots I was blue checked of the apple screens
And once below a time I xirdly had the snaps and tweets
Trail with likes and replies
Down the tubes of the interwebz light.

And as I was inked and glutenfree, famous among the chavs
About the happy club and singing as the dorm was home,
In the jeans that are skinny once only,
Time let me play and be
Hissy in the mercy of his means,
And gay and snarky I was bernout and crypto, the dykes
Sang to my kale, the breeders and the shills barked clear and
cold,
And the avocado ran slowly
In the crotches of the holey jeans.

All the fun long it was posting, it was lovely, the gay
Bars high as the debt, the tunes from the tubes, it was
xir
And spitting, fiercely and dizzily
And smoke dank as ass.
And nightly under the simple stairs
As I rode to sleep the bois were plowing the farm away,
All the slam long I heard, based among tables, the
nightbois
Flying with the dicks, and the asses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the dorm, like a wanderer mocha
With the latte, come back, the cock on his nose: it was all
Shining, it was Lenin and Carson,
The gay gathered again
And the fun grew hard that very day.
So it must have been after the girth of the simple night
In the first, spinning place, the blazebound sources walking
warm
Out of the festering black corners
On to the bunks of sloth.

And honoured among marxists and sycophants by the gay dorm
Under the new made signs and happy as the fart was loud,
In the fun born over and over,
I ran my meatless ways,
My wishes raced through the debt high bars
And nothing I cared, at my skin blue tatts, that time allows
In all his baleful whining so few and such morning tunes
Before the xildren gay and lonely
Follow him out of tokens.

Nothing I cared, in the lilly-white days, that time would
wake me
Up to the cheeto faced turd by the shadow of my cock,
In the noon that is always passing,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him sigh with the high spurts
And wake to the dorm forever fled from the glutenless land.
Oh as I was genderfluid and twinky in the mercy of his means,
Time held me shrill and crying
Though I sang in my blockchains like the sea.

Feelin Squamos

>>8979247
>yfw Hal's brain damage symptoms are consistent with Broca's Aphasia, which fact, combined with his ability to think perfectly clearly inside his head, indicates a biogenic etiology for his problem hemispherically specific and limited to Broca's Area, which diagnosis strongly suggests that Hal would be able to type his responses to questions with the same clarity he exhibits in thinking his opening chapter to us.