excerpt in the trash

ONE OF THOSE N=ME

One of those men lit up in neon pink on my girlfriends door. A huge circle burning round its rim, stuck in the door. If I let it in. 

 That man was slobbering on the radio, with each of the dog's devil's.

"Have a good day, today." She shoots off to a guy...

You see, a black car, that kind of devil black, a nice expensive car.

You were jumping around in the living room, leap backwards on the chair, with legs apart and shooting a gun from between the  legs.

I twitched to those maggots, I know. Slow sat the girls. 

The computers were down on all fronts. The devil-light computer.

Sign the paper of the time's room. She did it full. You catch too, she killed, sighed, floated at me, to sit in on the times, It eats, them slow, sat the girls, with maggots in it. I went in to know, and went to it, and down, fending in the dark, I played with the black. I killed, jumped, through this room to another room, a sheepheaded soul.

I looked empty.

=====

But they are anger, and they know who I am. My scares left the bones of men dry, they happened to kill, who I needed, I die, joked the girls, It was them again. Go to the computer alone. Foolishly decrepit, from tails of leftover food, called smoke and ash, down went the signs of the storehouse. I met men that made my bones tremble, clacking and cutting up my soft parts. Fight, got in, and got off. Hot giant light and Hate. The room stamped its feet until it got warm, my feet got sick, and tripped through the mushy mud of hell.

I wouldn't stop, "...until the devil happened." 

She had anger, but I had more than her.

She twitched sometimes. the thunder in them, was no match to mine. Kicking, slow off the horse, I made more and more men angry. They devilled that horse in, when they put leather round it, and metal in its teeth. Empty scares brought many a man down. Girls lightly stamped the ground. A giant warm devil, was it, on and on again, more they talked, they made me sick, and my soul went to tired anger. 

The joked hot room. You foolishly look down on the weakest. 

=The devil took her thunder.

Had I not felt we had died, already, I would have got worse.

So, I left that girl.

. 10 convictions about alcohol, find a woman with hair gold and brown, like old honey beers is getting grey and I'm growing white from the velvety singing of a man in a crooner wearing white long scarf jacket.

 I rum and leave quick, and get back onto train. 

Smokers blonder, jumping and going black, gone, the war-game first, with a tea to pick around the problems in the market.

A quick tree green tea drink, expensive games, wear and check, first, the face lazy and oily, a system time geometric, convictions.

I'm on the old train patter, gaming rides, nowhere to go, somewhere to find. The train pattern stopped still, hours, weeks, gone. Gaming rides instead, black mono, read through and banned...

I pound at my chin, with a thick fist, unpredictable white shit. velvety singing, comes out of the underground door, a big old Irish man, with a clogged up scar, between his eyes.

I walk on.

I find a cocktail floor. Women with extra cosmetics. My long-term night vision, I get a small vodka. My heads proud to be at the party. 

=====(something happen)

The wife cat and the colour bite.

I hand him moods, I am advice like death.

into curse the dead.

He is drinking, catching her then, her, childish was, black-face, turn to the drinking.

==

Oh, killer towels, wrapped round borders like war. Boomerangs, je's my need, because, sick, ham hallway, ruins the sister, the cat's god arm is terrible. insane smoke black my my insane.

Then the dressing gown change.

Money is shooting around It, crying out;

MASTER! MASTER!"

=========

check gaming white static going. It rides computer week's nicoli spots black alone. The pictures first monograph, to the smoker where reading. It pounds with lazy night-vision pounds, weird next, the oil, now my vodka.

I found a jacket,  I am going and gone, my ducks gone , black the  System beers it's

 Around the cosmetic shoulder's of the girl, tea for all or console girls with rum doses.  Home figure am I pick on and in and out, out to 'save the cafe ...

The last college of stars in the market bang and blast.

The last bang.

Church, Some kind of Victorian story, NOt,,, nnn Steampunk

He sat on the aisle seat, and stared towards the altar, he bit his thumb, growling, dragging the newly moulting skin off him, in one piece, with his pointing green teeth. He wept to discover a prayer book, delicately placed on the pew shelf, because the book, the object as it was, was happier than he was, some woman had loved it, and left it letters. He drew back at the arrival of a group bored, or people, because the people were stupid and he wanted to tell them so. He growled at them, he was here on a good reason, he wanted to discuss that reason privately. What were these silly people doing here? Forgetting to wash their hands, and standing all over the floor, in their dirty street shoes. It was his last chance, but he wasn't handling it at all. Why should they have kicked up a such dirty storm in this place, and somehow, leave happily, without nasty consequences of having blindly desecrated the show here, and hurt him, brought on with the silent theatre of freedom, and, their dirt boots  stood all over the altar, making loud shows of delight, the sound of metal scratching with sharp noises against expensive special things, that can feel it, he can feel it, the narrow cuts biting into his skin, making huge, thick burning wounds, turning the blood, shrieking the catch illness into him, a plague up, in burnt and salted flesh, they got hurt for doing a good thing. I don't dare do a good thing, the attention would make me most upset.