Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong

Voice Post

206K 1:02
“Towards midnight in the slidey(?) towns. Dawding(?) get bogged down South Avenue. The mo, the ___ just brought up the rear. Let me see if they were and then reliable. The twisted monsters in Times Square. Double lock, jab jab. The vendor smashed up for the hot dog vendor melting to the crowd. They're walking towards here just a swam of fins. Judith, this really fantastic. At the trick of light the costume, they blend here. Not always but tonight. All eyes on the glittering ball. Matter would be here to be found. The jabber lock takes with you sweet as smack smokes later. He will now just pick a few pockets just to show that he blends. The ball falls, the crowd roars and so it choose to bits. The jab jab spread gets wings. The vendor steps from his seat. A ___ just stay and time to go, be now back in demand. Return to the talgie(?) woods to be shaned and slained. Towards midnight in the slidey(?) towns to dare and gamble in the new day. ___ spill champagne and vent away.”

Auto-Transcribed Voice Post

Wow. The autotranscription here is so William S. Burroughs. I kinda don't want to fix it. *laugh*

(This was for my aunt's prompt this Christmas, "Midnight.")
Twas midnight, and the slithy toves
Gyred and gimbled down Fifth Avenue:
The borogoves brought up the rear,
Mimsy as they were, and unreliable.

A twist of monsters in Times Square -
Jabberwock, jubjub.
The bandersnatch stops at a hot-dog vendor,
Melts into the crowd.

No vorpal swords here.
Just a swarm of humans
Jaded, dismissing the fantastic
As a trick of light, a costume.

They blend here.
Not always, but tonight -
All eyes on the glittering ball,
Not a would-be hero to be found.

The Jabberwock takes a few -
Snicker-snack, snacks for later.
The mome raths pick a few pockets,
Just to show that they can.

The ball falls, the crowd roars:
And so, too, the beasts.
The Jubjub spreads its wings;
The Bandersnatch stomps its feet.

A frabjous day! And time to go;
They melt back into mirrors,
Return to the tulgey wood
To be shunned and slain.

'Twas midnight, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the new day.
Mimsy, tipsy borogoves
Spill champagne, and dance away.
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