She, from the pile drawings, took my left hand as lungs and began to breathe.
Her appearance held up.
From the page I never left and from doing my research for ideas, I had wildlife on paper see the sounds from which they hide; the dreadful “What to do?”
As I grow wary of my renegade masterpiece, who knows what to keep? I’ll mend her graphite glory, welcoming her death rock charm to the nothingness of Anarchy-induced grief. I hammer her glimmer to the back of her jacket with spikes on her shoulders.
I completed her outfit (when she stopped blowing smoke in my face) and let her sit back. She didn’t expect a side of her to decrypt just from her looks, as she thought I’d carry out.
I happen to correct Aly: “I also wondered how to decrypt you.” All she had was a smirk on her face and too much spunk to let me erase. All I had to say was “welcome to the graveyard scene.”
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The latter was written using old writing remixed through a gibberish generator then spiced up into something new. I decided to go with the very first result from that particular work I threw into the generator, because clicking for a new mess over and over would somewhat defeat the spirit of restriction. I tried not to get overly liberal with how much I changed it, since some things aligned surprisingly well. A change in capitalization and a letter could change things completely. I understand how this can tie into Kenneth Goldsmith’s “Uncreative Writing” given the premise of taken words already written and using them in a creative way; despite how uncreative it is to borrow words. In this case, why come up with something new from scratch? I’ve written many a-thing before, and that’s a unique start, to say the least.
I may come back to change tidbits, but for now, this is the “Raw” form of what I did with the experiment.
pixelateforwork 