Analyze this text and try and assert whether it was written by a native English speaker:
Flat Occurrences.

Charlie Chaplin is clogging at me in my bathroom mirror;
He is smiling a staged smile.
I shake my stance—
a jarring configuration is kinkily salivating back at me.
I dread looking in the mirror.
I feel a daunting presence corrupt my flat.
Blackness illocutes decommission.
Hampered, as I am,
I convoke the claims on my flat,
and blackness disperses.
But a new dispensation is being trajected on my flat:
the light, and the white figures.
I blundered: It was the moon’s beam mortifying my flat.
“I am an ontological representation of nothingness.”
It’s black once more.
I derive my hunting knife from a big father’s boot.
I want to adjust, mould recrudescence;
To strain the outbreak.
I see a foreigner in my kitchen.
He’s muttering hoarse German under his breath.
He wears a tailcoat.
His mouth chainsaws sideways in a welcoming grin,
and his eyes palpitate with glee.
He’s shouting long German nouns now.
“Deppmistverdammt! Übertragunghaftpflicht!”
He’s sprinting at me.
I’m stupored. Oh, senses—