Writing into Gibberish

So during the process of wringing words from my mind for National Novel Writing Month, I decided that I’d share part of the “book”, but turned into gibberish so as to try and express the frustration that I’ve been experiencing.

Frustration or entertainment. Your choice.

I hope you enjoy.

—–

I remembered to the point where large to the morning.
It may have only partially-drenched, thanks in large to take with me in the morning.
It may have only been a park, but to be as forceful as it possibly could.
The ground was still an issue.
I trudged on through, my suit only partially-drenched, thanks in large to take with me in the morning.

The rain was saturated to the point where large puddles were quickly forming.
It may have only been a park, but to be as forceful as it possibly could.

There were other things swirling to get wet for no reason.

Beyond the umbrella and letting half of myself get wet for no reason.

Beyond the rain, in the immediate surroundings, visibility was somethings swirling that I remembered the immediate surroundings, visibility was still dry, thanks to the umbrella too.
Pity the umbrella and letting half of the suit was low. But at least half of myself get wet for no reason.

Beyond the shoes were other thing through my mind, such as wondering as to why.

I was only chance, lest it squander the further on it was certainly feeling heavens, I wasn’t running in the small landscape, hammering anyway.
I wasn’t forsaking the opportunity, was only chance, lest it squander the heavens, I was it carried itself across the earth as to why my life was certainly feeling heavens, I wasn’t screaming the small landscape, hammering and the present moment why it went. Or, at least in the heavy and the further on it went. Or, at least in the earth as to why my life was.

There was too early in the unrelenting heavy rain. It was just some sort of me and be unleashed into the year for this rain. It was slowing down time enough a park that was too early in the year for this rain. It was no overwhelming sense of ennui was no overwhelming something rather temporary, was experiencing heavy rain. It was going through to make me live in my life. There was slowing down time enough a park that was still some sort of me and be unleashed into the unrelenting heavens.

At least the best? That I really was soon as I could. Attending funerals was scared? That something I seldom did. Attending funerals was a bad train had been a little else heavy earlier on.

If I had met my maker that afternoon, assuming there was a good person? To save me and something seldom fun and something I seldom did. Attending funerals was a good person? To save me and something I seldom fun and stop me from dying in this instant?
It was some of thought to go down and some of thought to go down.

I’m sure that there was also no way of telling with getting anything other than a few lines done and I’m sure that then again, that I would be honouring some sort of justice, but then again, that would be assuming that there was still struggling so long as I remained in this heavy rain.

I had stopped way, but I didn’t know what, or even if it was no way of telling some sort of justice, but I didn’t know what, or even if it was someone’s memory in some sort of sick, twisted walking anything that I could.

I was yet to relent. I took my opportunity and a direction I knew too well at this one direction in which I should have been heading and the same direction in which I should have been heading and crossed another field, but then again it’s easy for what felt like a lot on one’s mind.
Soon I was only one had much less water to contend with, than it did not show any more the park and the pathway for what felt like a lot on one’s mind.
Soon I knew too well at this point.

I rapped over a fence and let me in.
On the natural processes of the signs of the water seemed to be flowing for the rear door and failing, I realised through the door of the tiled backyard and was now entering, I realised to be flowing for the slant of force, pushed it open. In the door of things.
I walked through the unrelenting room. With a slight bit of the glass, hoping that I needed to be flowing for the kitchen and failing, following for my knuckles hard on the rear gate, made of the door.

—–

And there you go.

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About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
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