Saturday, 4 June 2016

Estate:4013

The Estate is growing over in dense roots and poisonous flowers cover everywhere. The derelict flats infested with mutated cockroach's, silver fish and an few thousand sick or deranged junkies. A nuclear jungle - breeding gangs, trash-men, speed freaks, hairy apes, cyanogenetic crews, mercenaries, mongs, mongrels crazed with rabies, babies, femme fatal ladies, bloodthirsty pirates, huge rats consuming cats, perverts and every paraphilia know to man and machine. A galaxy of gods, cults, hooligans, hoodlums and hobo's, too name a few. A collective industrial industry: I Tom or TPT, watch, record, collect data for “them” above, and so on and so forth. I observe beasts ganging raping whole communities, I see flowers devouring lost drunks, whilst a nuclear core melts. From “new births” to badgers the size of bears. The plant coolant towers stand like twin giants frozen in time. Relics of times long past. Moulding streets stinking of stale ozone like an infested fridge packed with rotting meat. They were plagued with mutated spiders, militant – millepede's, centipedes of monumental dimension. Clotted avalanches and acid (LSD, Sulphuric) rain. At least a million mutations of everything from man and beast a like, packs of abandoned pets showing signs of toxic mutation. Man-eating packs of wild cannibal kids that have contended with everything from centipedes to paedophiles. Epidemics, pandemics, plagues, unionised sex pests and predators of every variation drugs of every kind used and abused everyone - everywhere. Awe-inspiring spores of fungi, gigantic Fly Agaric mushrooms excreting hallucinogenic phosphorus protoplasm causing streams of toxic slime through the streets of Neo-Trafford. Madhouses, bedlams, asylums - sedating the sane by sinister intent. Killing sprees sponsored by intergalactic shadow governments. Green slime covering the children's playgrounds and parks. Ripe garbage filling ancient stadiums stinking worse than human shit. Alleys that never end. Adolescent motorcycle gangs, depravity – multi-religious advancement twisting minds in arabesques patterns, etc. etc. I observe a tramp convulsing in an derelict shop doorway. A gang banger had just finished his trepanning procedure, the bored hole in the tramp’s skull was which now pumping out pink brain matter. Black sky's where neurotic deities piss, shit, fight and fuck. Voodoo witches, rampant cannibals and extraterrestrials everywhere. I observe a Gypsy women sitting at a park bench, she sits shuffling her Tarot cards, casting terrifying curses upon the corrupt and innocent alike. Sadism spreads like wild fire leaving Masochism as a dry ash....Clinical communities produce
Methamphetamine on an industrial scale. “It’s the gas in them pipes.” “It’s the electricity in all them wires; it’s the smile on ya face.” Strange sterile energy from the clay hovels. I observe corpses laying dead in strange postures – twisted modification, bloated, butchered. Perverts Mechanics prowl the cobbled streets and guilty moors for whores, abandoned children, stripping the flesh from their tiny bones. The whores are beaten, then sodomised and shat on. I observe the sun rising like a practical joke. I observe semen dripping down the ergot infested corn where it dries and becomes brittle like old bones. I observe things you Humans wouldn't believe. I observe Chaos.

Part 2

I observe.
I never miss a days event. I am the Technologically Advanced Peeping Tom. Year Four, Day of the Sun. Heatwave draws in madness. The concrete blistered up, then scabbed over, and now it's all seeping puss, blood puddles - all that gangrene shit furring over pale green fuzz. Tumble weed a rollin. The estate stinks, a reek of pure death lingers. Sulphur. Hell fire. The constant chatter of many broken Mancunian accents, slang, and gibberish, broken chew on then spat out. Patwah so silly you laugh. A sorta Merican southern twang patters ere and there then back ta a bastardised Patwah. “Di wulla dem a stakki!” shouts a black albino as if at God. The man holds tight an amoral lookin TEC-9, a mixture of stamped and milled steel parts. The simplistic design of the semi-automatic made it easy to repair and modify; blowback-operated, chambered in 9x19mm Parabellum. It was the weapon of choice among blacks, a CIA invention some say, to keep the Negro population to a minimum in them way out lands of America, the once vast kingdom, inferno – heat, now a vast desert I think. Not like this congested cesspit. I sometimes think about Outside, about other settlements and so called city life, if one could call it: life. “Call it a depraved Grand Master plan,” spat a law man, “A higher aged Intelligence, now seemingly bored of the welfare of society as meekness and patience mutated into Hate and depravity, was what replaced the former gifts of a great demented King better known as the Cohesive Intelligence. Its a trait of complete control over man for reasons unknown. Its Encephalon a vast black network, sometimes you can see it, some say it resembles the Man o' War Jelly, but of unspeakable size - it no longer shy to show its soul and its flesh: Father of man, from yonder years. Books say most humans where Atheists, heathens, faithless slime crying to a metaphor. What emerged before them saw their so called metaphor in all its full glory of the infinitive - mad eplipetic Mahomet-Jellyfish. Your entity enters a second Game, and then it begins” the law man looks up to the sky. Tom: All that unknown knowns for many an hour, likes it too, his mind's loose sentence. But back too the nigger, a ruthless henchman by the name of Gian Luigi Ferri. He mutters under his breath, “Gyal yuh pum pum tun up,” as he patrols his patch of concrete. He suddenly drops to one knee, TEC-9 outstretched, aimed at an emerging pack of wild sewerage children as they run and scatter in all directions. He raises from his knee, laughing, before dropping his strides and shat on the concrete. He shouts out to the sky, “Go suck yuh madda!” Tom: It sets my digital mind wondering again, does the Supreme Being ave a Mother? Gian still stood there in his place muttering to himself. An abandoned shop window bursts suddenly, a tall black man stands just visible in the dark, holding a bat of some kind, then drops out of sight. Caught off guard, Gian spins around an opens up his weapon spraying 36 rounds of cheap Yankee firepower, blindly peppering the building. The smoke clears. Pure luck he caught the brain-sick loon, fatally shot in the head by the lead spraying shrapnel. He must have ducked by the ledge but fatally exposed the crown of his skull, as the sun beat off it. By chance of his height his boiled egg head was now an undercooked spilt skull oozing red yolk. It was not yet past 7am, Tom - monitor and observe. If only it was just that. What panoramas can I voyeuristic-ally molest this afternoon? In Manchester's most fascinating bacterial smear stain, among many other city observed and ensnared and experimented on by formless entity's or high all mighty deity, with a warped doctrine. It was sometime around 11am staring into a children's park where the only things breathing was the dozen or more drug stricken man and women sitting squeezed in steel benches, covered in slick lime green puke, a contorted gaggle with about about forty intravenous tube wiring drips disappearing into arms, legs and orifices -the tranquil collective slowly breathing – nodding in unison, almost hypnotic Tim thought, as it's lid half light and drooping - half second dilated still zooming from a sudden explosion. Five minutes past before the white smoke cleared, the benches and climbing frames gore covered slowly dripping down into blood soaked gravel nothing else remained of the junkies, a ringing sound of vibrating steel never ceased. About two hours later another gang of junkies sleepwalked into the park... they all slowly sat down on the shining red benches before screaming in harmony arses sizzling grill like - on the white hot benches welding them down - arse and hands some pulling free peeling away their flesh in a white agony, melted fat forming into thick grease in minutes. The screeching ceased, about four hours later, now just a low whimpering. A light wind cooled their barbecued buttocks. The three that pull free left the park with 90 degree burns, their first time a real need for all that smack. another explosion cleansed the children's area of all but steaming steel in white heat, bone nor blood remained this time. Tom with its advanced nano technology settled - on the activity of crack smokin' crew of bloodthirsty gang-bangers, who where now in pursuit of six pallid white naked men across the fens, there loins wagging and flapping rudely, eyes wide like spooked horses, tears streaming like schoolgirls, the blacks had now finally caught up with them, and encircled them cackling like hyenas, grown men now not much but pathetic frightened boys - all huddle together cupping their loins - weeping bitches, piss flowing down their flanks. Gang grinned before this here grand spectacle. Not a word spoken. Cackling went mute. As four huge tall blacks covered the round up men still trembling. Now under great cotton shroud, next a black with quick hands bound them up with a wiry thin rope - pull taut, the gang arranged themselves in line then then took five paces back, before rising around twenty aimed TEC9 semi-automatic pistols discharged - crackling spray of gunfire ripping into their target, peppered with bloody smoking holes, folded over its self, strange looking thing – grotesque. Huge bulging bag of dead meat – heap. The sack now absorbed completely in warm blood, the the firing ceased as magazines unclipped and hit ground – red hot barrels smoking as hundreds discharged shells cooled where they lay “Ah suh di ting tan, yuh cyaa duh nutt'n bout itt!” Spat the the leader, as he dosed the cellulose looking thing with petrol, then tossed in a match, and stepped back. an engulfing flame bellowed in the wind cracking as the leader spat at the fire before falling back in line, ending there cruel ritual in the mid-day sun...Tom droned through the air like some large dis-bodied glass eye – taking in vast amounts of data from the scene, feeding itself – a parasitical conscience device. Tom had halted above a hell below. A shit garden had opened it hole for the sick a needy a Coprophilia feast. Fermenting waste heaving with maggots for burying alive the defeated and weak who's flesh fuelled the under-lords who in turned fuelled higher-lords, who in turn fuelled the citizens existence of trash by expanding their TV channels rotting minds faster pumping out radiation with more soul decaying, vacuous and gross game shows of every-kind. Turning water into white cider, which caused their heads to shrink. “Be the first to imitate your idols for this week you can for a limited time become a housewife of Beverly hills and observe a holocaust from front row seats at the Trafford Centre multiplex!” adverts reeled endlessly.

'Tom?' a west Texan neo-entity, hopped on a stray radio wave, inquired,”Quit you god damn sick-voyeuristic glorified CCTV lens or I'll.....fu...ck....in.... ill ......y..e, it seems like the line broke and white nigger got choked.

Part 3

TPT:The Peeping Tom

Tom - CCTV, 5th Generation wireless camera the all seeing Eye. Telekinesis monitors minds and playback for analyses, raw data – implant memories in a endless algebra of perverse twisted peep-shows and then make then make them a reality of sort, but the mind control Tom can preform on humans, is endless in its possibilities, it can weave in and out of men's minds for weeks reeling out whole stories, dreams, nightmares, madness and invent new complex disorders of the mind. Algorithmic programmed-computer is an artificial intelligence agency, more commonly called “Tom” it/he became multi-functional in observing on and in the ESTATE covering every last inch of Manchester, K. on November 3rd 4013, designed by a higher god whose name is lost and history unknown, some suspect it was a cosmic mistake or an experiment with desire that failed, and then was abandoned...Tainted matter that learned too live piss and shit fuck and murder before being enslave by a wayward god with its on twisted machinations. Tom is capable of many functions, such as speech, speech mimicking, speech recognition, dialect recognition, facial recognition, lip reading, interpreting emotions, expressing emotions, Psychological Operations or PSYOP are planned operations to convey selected information and indicators to audiences to influence their emotions, all data substance siphon - consumption - enhancing – preserving – maintaining – controlling – defending – positive stimulus – negative stimulus – Hate – creating – mutating – war – drugs – perversion ad-Infinitum - god – devil – heaven – hell – life - death – To Serve are Godhead: Encephalon – bl ack Ne two rk )( for district M 3 3 4 b y territory Manchester-Encephalon - “Humans the Livestock of G.O.D go forth and eat your children hate your brothers and multiply your Anachronistic perversions warp your grain of earth - land – and your death will bring forth your souls before an Intergalactic Pig for its flesh will feed your slaves for building your own private Kingdom be it a heaven or a hell. Dog who art thou God deliver us to the abominable paradise now forge a domain from the shit of Christ Amen.






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