💀💀“Stop Keystroking Me Under the Table”💀💀
✒️By Felonious Academic✒️
💀💀💀a machine thatclatters like a junkie's teeth on a cold night and an even colder smiling mug, a fractured face only a mother could love. It had No backspace. No mercy. You misspelled you were fucked, you bleed it out, the ink-smeared, fuckin permanently, a scar tissue healed across the page like a fresh track on the arm of a fien.
💀💀💀 Every key a slammering hammer, every strike a aspired confession you can't unsay. bell ring once each line, sharp as a switchblade snap. As Ribbon kisses the paper, a wet tasting of blood ink and tobacco. No delete. No undo. You fuck it up? You live with it. Like , motherfuckin life. Like reality. Like the war you never asked for. The laptop? A Plastic corpse of once was, humming soft as a lobotomized patient thats in love with her botched procedure. Its Tap-tap-tap flat, electronic whimper. With its Backspace glowing like a liar's smile, erase, erase, go pretend the truthful experiences. The Keys now float, weightless, built for speed not a fuckin soul. No echo. No ghosts. Just a sterile hot shit of data, gone before it hits the toilet.
💀💀💀Violin? No. It's a DJ running a robot with no lungs. We traded melody for convenience, prayer for productivity, teeth for forgiveness. the old machines wake up. They howl. They fuckin curse. They remember words once that had weight, an overbite, and had no escape. No take-backs. No mercy. Just the raw, unedited truth, clacking out into the night like a middle finger to the clean, the quiet, and the intellectualy dead. So delete your sins, polish your lies, keep your screen spotless. I'll take the healed over scars. I'll take the noise. I'll take the goddamn typewriter, because when it breaks, it breaks ground, it breaks through goddamit. It's thats just my type
