system
A chat on 4chan
human
Awhile back,
In thoese gilded days,
When I was a young man,
Yet aged by a unatural world
Of violent,
Peace And quite,
Of degraged
Solomness,
I served a guild
An agency of a large invisible machine,
Selling my wares to all who crossed my path Broken toys,
Rusted contraptions
Imbecilic inventions,
A tricksters work Young and old Distant or all too near All who lacked wit Purchased my product
My superiours sent me an invoice An order,
To extened the arms of our crafts An offer to me,
For a journey of deception
I boarded a engine,
Took a trip across the continent
For 2 days I sat in my car
A chamber made of rich woods, and red leather
Writing letters, and drawings, scrambling mechnically
Outside the world was different, yet same
The smokestakes that tapped the skies
The bustling cities
The wheat which sucked the endless fields
The streams flowing with silent fish
Yet all black
No matter how empty or crowded
Tall or low
The landscapes were shrouded
Blacks, grays, lit by beams wrestled out of a chamber in an ironic heaven
As I reached the midlands,
The sun crossed down into chaos Whatever clammer in the constant hills Collapsed into dream
And as did I
The slow drift into sleep
One of the few good things,
In a time of alien pleasure
The approaching darkness
One afflicts upon oneself at ease A contemplation of death
A conetmplation of peace
A conetmpaltion all things really
About halfway through,
As my world dwindled into rest
And the fragments flew into memory An unworldly freeze had befallen them
I climbed up
Not unessy, but not at ease The train still moving
Yet something haveth stopped Not the world
Not the time
Merley the motion of life
gpt
Sudenlley I heard a song
A whistle through the luxuriant cars
A song tht echoed a distant place
Of floating doves, and hidden rabbits Of places of vines, and ancient marbles Of gracious women, and godlike men
I writhed my hand onto a copper latch, Clicking into a new scene
A energy
A power
A being
Something fallen down
Landed onto a ungracious Earth A winged figure
With robes like a ironed cloud Skin as white as milk

Hair as monochrome as the eternal spinning sun Eyes the color of the rare nebulas
Male or female
Alive or holy
Playing this distant song Of a distant world,
Of a distant time,
Of a distant god,
Of a distant race,
On a whistle made of chrome
I was mezmerised, stopped against my will The air craddling me, my senses absorbed
The being rose from it’s rose throne
And collapsed upon my impure form
Kissing me, sending me into a kalidescope of xenous fear, yet indescribable pleasure And at last world dwindled into rest
And the fragments flew into memory
And sleep like a doll had befallen me