The intercom and intertext prompter displayed the demented anthem.
"We you husky your trailer turn lumos that was telling me a you the nonsense I get translated in speech-to-text generator think the i i set that's good worked hard enough that your hey a you can rub it into yeah yeah yeah and that's the thinking she want yeah I thought I was holding out she credit union I have..."
It was one of those blended conversations that never seemed to pause. I had never heard a normal voice. The window flickered like scattered glass. Almost like a single organism. I had tested my chat bot programmed in non compiled language. I even put in a QR code scanner. But the light of the intercom prompter was more blinding then the glow of the laptop screen.
My life dictated by dictation software in a device that could never turn off. No man, it's later then 4 x z. The laptop flint curd was a come on sensor tray. It couldn't read a single line. Makeshift dictation code, all down the Louise. Fingernails painted in black.
Life is temporary and bleak. Like rays of radiation shoved down your throat. A sweet little girl in an Alice blue gown, dances to dried lips, and bringing her straight razors to the classroom, loving her and Jean Ferrat's differences, with him a Leninist, and her an anarchist. She gave newspapers to chimps to wipe their butts with.
At night she was decked in black.
Fade to black, fade from this life.
We’re all an alligator’s snack.