ITT: Post your most experimental writings, regardless of how bad they are, and lets see if we can understand them:
-
COULD LIFE BE A GROOVE THAT THE JIVE OF THOUGHT AND REALITY DANCE ON THE SAME FLOOR OF THE UNIVERSAL MEDIUM? The question stood posed with it's arms crossed of the eternal judge. We stand and ask*infinity, but we cannot not not not not answer this unsiezable partling, and the now I know, contrary to the life of the world around me. Smooth.
>>7377536
2/2
post-punctum, I choose to begin my stor(y) here after giving you a brief synopsis given the summary of the autobiography of The (despite that pre-punctum (putting that point, which from the outside, is already within the inside and put back into the outside of the thought) and thererfore. Now, I say with dreadful pride that crazy, absolutely crazy numbler of sheer sizes have put away our boastful fears away forevermore. Once thought is allowed to roam within the (certainly) bumbling forests of the metaphysical physic of the imagination, constraints are but no more to the more knowing butt of society. Not in a rambling fashion (innnnsssshhhiiiiittt) but o-p-e-n up the misconception misconceptions of them that are held against us your thought might come to the natural conclusion that ties the end about the situation of the mis-percieve-ance of us. However, now let us begin in the beginning of the beginning. Shall we begin? (Yes)
And so, it was a marvelous day, when I had recalled that a switch in my mind had not been pressed on yet. However, given the illogical content of my production, I quickly swayed away from it and moved on, brightly aknowledging fact of having conquested past foe. But as I reached house of the bricks which lay the structure in front of me, I noticed that the post-punctum, I choose to begin my stor(y) here after giving you a brief synopsis given the summary of the autobiography of The (despite that pre-punctum (putting that point, which from the outside, is already within the inside and put back into the outside of the thought) and thererfore. Now, I say with dreadful pride that crazy, absolutely crazy numbler of sheer sizes have put away our boastful fears away forevermore. Once thought is allowed to roam within the (certainly) bumbling forests of the metaphysical physic of the imagination, constraints are but no more to the more knowing butt of society. Not in a rambling fashion (innnnsssshhhiiiiittt) but o-p-e-n up the misconception misconceptions of them that are held against us your thought might come to the natural conclusion that ties the end about the situation of the mis-percieve-ance of us. However, now let us begin in the beginning of the beginning. Shall we begin? (Yes) and realized that in fact the matter was indeed very certainly my switch (oh the switch the switch the switch the switch!) had not been flipped, or turnedenrut to realize the distance of how literary galaxies of and literal galaxies could forge in the flow of the sword-pen.
Turn on the switch! the peasant cried not knowing what lurked behind the metamorphosis of the of the true self which had been defined in a period when it itself had not been realized, and bamboozled the little flick of a switch and wicked. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
>>7377536
>it's arms
D R O P P E D
Throat singing is pretty great, especially when it's followed up by a lifeless black background and a whole bunch of depressed faggots in mail crying over some shit
I've posted this in critique threads, but I never received questions about what it meant.
Light through lids, steel screams, a face behind a glass confluence: open smile--flash of teeth, rust-colored forelocks falling over eyes--dark tunnels coronated white: placental warmth, the memory of it, percolates through the still air. Shift. Wrinkles--little valleys, flesh runnels--stretch and deepen. Shift. Crystal droplets: on the swell of her cheek: confined to the two-dimensional space behind the pane of glass: foreign, alien, the precipitate of an inhuman process.
>>7377594
I don't know what it means but holy hell it's melodramatic as fuck
>>7377594
Is it a crack whore looking at a mirror after she realized she got pregnant and will have to give birth to or abort a crack baby?
>>7377594
Joanne quivers.
>>7377628
>good or bad thing?
Bad thing, but that's my personal taste, it's just really over the top
>>7377628
I figured placental warmth meant she realized she's pregnant, light through lids means she turns on the lights in her bathroom and her eyes open up, the glass confluence and face is her own in the mirror, and I thought crystal was to refer to crack.
>>7377594
Kill all the darlings.
A face behind glass: hair falling over eyes. Wrinkles. Foreign, alien.FUCKING WOW
I hope I never have to see Light Through Lids again... unless it's a joke, then you are a king of shitposting and we can laugh together...
>>7377594
I googled this and reddit came up, curious as to the template this was given.
>>7377663
What do you mean?
>>7377672
I like it. The people who can't take a bit of steering from the norm are the same kind of people who review Proust on goodreads as "pretentious" because they got bored during the read.
At the risk of getting overly specific I'll had that they generally study engineering, play the bass (which they consider the end-all instrument because they've listened to Tool sometimes) and think they now everything there is to know about literature because they've read Lovecraft and Azimov
>>7377678
I'm all out of knives. Life is tough.
It actually is an experiment of sorts.
It was a dark and stormy night. It was a dark and stormy heart. It was a broken and stormy heart. Joe was a broken and stormy heart. Joe had a broken and stormy heart. Joe had a broken and stormy life. Joe hated a broken and stormy life. Joe hated a broken and stormy woman. Joe hated a broken and vicious woman. Joe married a broken and vicious woman. Joe married a broken and vicious Anna. Joe married a broken and sweet Anna. Joe married a lovely and sweet Anna. Joe loved a lovely and sweet Anna. Anna loved a lovely and sweet Anna. Anna loved a lovely and sweet Joe. Anna loved a drunk and sweet Joe. Anna tolerated a drunken and sweet Joe. Anna tolerated a drunken and abusive Joe. Anna hated a drunken and abusive Joe. Anna poisoned a drunken and abusive Joe. Methanol poisoned a drunken and abusive Joe. Methanol spared a drunken and abusive Joe. Methanol spared a drunken and weak Joe. Methanol left a drunken and weak Joe. Anna left a drunken and weak Joe. Anna left a penniless and weak Joe. Hope left a penniless and weak Joe. Life left a penniless and weak Joe.
>>7377536
Smashed in stuck bubble, fishbulbs drowning red in a gypsy shack on the dry shore California bum corner. Way out, comfort declined, Bray stuck in orbit of the poorly indian decor of an artificial candle swept room.
You said the most experimental, don't hate.
the infinite reaching arms of ecstasy coming via modulated signals was pulling endlessly at our draw; keeping in a rhythmic pace
6/8 time exactly;
self imposed.
did you know TV static is cosmic microwave background radiation?
>>7377688
I mean the template part.
Shit sounds like my sister dropped some more acid and got pregnant again.....
>>7377695
Cute but unsustainable in the long run. I wouldn't read ten pages of something written like that, and i've brute forced my way through finnegan's wake
>>7377707
Oh, sorry. Confused between subreddits, thought it was posted on /r/writingprompts
rip rupture! into borderline self-negating asylum occupant as identificate, the groaning threat of the tidal illness. do preternatural stars or prenatal choice decide the course along earthly waters
>>7377536
EL PENE
eN LA VAgiNA
ENTRABA Y SALIA HACIENDO PLOFF
CADA VEZ QUE EL CAPITAN MENCIONABA
EL
HO
L
O
R
DE LAS CORTINAS
>>7377717
>Can't wrap my head around what it's trying to say
Good.
Mainly because I know exactly what it says.
I wanted to make another example besides pic related, but I'm eating pizza at the moment. Have at it.
I am giving up to the cycles what I put into them years ago before I was as I am now: dying. Dying is the hobby for all well read, all who write, and all who don't. Dying flows over in waves like thick viscous fluid that is everywhere, a river going down to the end of the cycle that has no end and eventually this thick river returns to the Milesian first principle, the beginning of beginnings. But we are but image (macros) on the water, St. Elmo's fire that replicates itself and burns briefly then disappears but never goes away completely. Just small little private oceans floating on the bigger ocean we cannot see. Truth is not like this because what we read is what is written by other tiny oceans.
>I read about the pre-Socratics once
>>7377714
I see.
>>7377734
edgy
>>7377695
Very interesting, but, as another anon said, you couldn't force someone to read more than a few pages of it. That said, if you have more tricks up your sleeves, you could definitely be an experimental short story writer.
>>7377536
all my life is death and darkness. one day my parents - slavemasters- wanted me to see the lies that they called "light" but i did not go. i did not go i did not go in my mind the demon of cynicism and reason consumed me screaming "they are so stupid why wont they understand -.-" screaming screaming so i told them, "no" and knew then that i would suffer any consequence for my actions for then i became a defender for all things that are true in this world; i became enlightened.
>>7377630
What does this mean?
Nothing with me now, but when I write poetry I tend to pull a Joyce and create my own compound words and different forms of words. My poetry professor gave me shit for it, but it's not like it was complicated.
>>7377753
by the way i am using all lower-case as a stylistic choice i no how to write lol :)
>>7377758
>My poetry professor gave me shit for it
Rightfully.
How I Found Joy With a Burning Dick
"Once I was writing
And my dick started
Burning it burned a
Lot so I went to
My doctor except
He was not there so
I went and saw a
Different doctor
He was a Jew but
Good enough so I
Pulled down my pants and
Told him "Hey doc, look--
My cock, its burning"
And he said "Woah there--
That does look bad" so
He got on his knees
And pulled my foreskin
Back and saw that it
Was full of dick cheese
So he said "Woah there--
That does look bad" so
He washed it off and
Gave me some overpriced
Pills which stunk because
They were antibiotics
But I forgot I was
Allergic so I went back
And said "Hey doc, look--
My dicks still burning--
And now I'm real sick"
So he said "Woah there--
That does look bad" and
He called his nurse she
Had big tits and a
Nice ass but was too
A Jew but good enough
So I told here "Hey bitch
How 'bout you ride this
Dick once this little
Infection is gone?"
And she said "Woah there--
Not even a date first?"
So I said "look here--
I ain't got no time
For dates I'm a big
Writer and I got to
Write or I will get
Arrested for not
Paying my ex bitch
Alimony kay?"
And then she said "kay"
So I got my dick
All cleaned up and then
Started looking 'round
For the nurse kike bitch
Then I found her and then
Told her "Hey nice ass--
You ready to fuck?"
And she said "Woah there--
I'm not some dirty
Skank you got a car?"
And I said "Of course
I got a car you bitch"
So I went outside
And hotwired a big
Van that smelled of
Child molestation
But sprayed my shitty
Cologne in there and
Told her "Get in bitch"
So we fucked hard and
I came raw in her
Fat ass and again
In her loose cunt and
Mouth then later I
Felt that same burning
Again and I thought
To myself "Fuck that
Bitch wasn't even clean"
So I got up and
Went to the address
On her license 'cause
I stole her wallet
And bought junk with it
And she said "Woah there--
Truly this is a wonderful post.
>>7377778
Didn't ya know I
Was a prostitute
On the side?"
So I said "Look here
You dumb cunt I just
Got rid of this shit
You better fucking
Fix this you piece of
Shit or I'll beat ya"
And she said "Woah there--
Aren't you the piece
Of shit for catching
This shit in the first
Fucking place?" So I
Left and walked home and
It started raining
So I got soaked
And probably got
A cold too don't know
So I went inside
My shitty little dank
Apartment and then
Poured myself a glass
Of rye then got up
And ate a stale rye
Sandwich with slimy
Old bologna
And hummed some shitty
Old jazz song from my
Childhood and then I
Thought to myself "I
Think its time to die."
But I didn't 'cause
Life is worth living
Even if its pure
Shit sometimes The End."
>>7377778
Is this one of those things where I read the first word of every line
>>7377784
It's just long enough that one would not think someone had this much dedication to shitposting. My compliments anon, you've written excellent bait material
>>7377788
No. it's stream-of-consciousness free-verse in a pentameter, written in the style of Charles Bukowski, by somebody who has never read him.
I incorporated several motifs and an allusion-turned-pun.
>>7377776
Whatever, all his poems were about fishing or hunting and he only praised regional writing in class. I hate living in the south.
"I beat a bitch down if my name is Kevin," rapped Kevin.
Kevin was pretty shit at that but whatever it makes him happy oh bloo bloo yolo hedonism indulgence but not the catholic kind lolelekekol; seriously though being aware of your affectation does not negate your insincerity ur still a fucking dick and I still use typos to seem like a genuine person and they said being unrestrained is shit cause even if it’s all subjectively the same if you’re not noodling with others you’re noodling yourself. If we have to oscillate let’s do parametrics so I can keep going up :^) lol if you didn’t get that one it’s okay I don’t either okay no uniting under affected ignorance is pointless fuck it I’m smarter than you.
"Started fucking bitches in grade eleven," continued Kevin.
I'm geared towards the big dominant game
The shit I flip it
Bassline muscle
Turn inside the fuckin' dunk over
Nenad Krstić, ya seven foot sinner
Saw my nuts in his face, oh shit
The crowd missed it
Now The Nets gotta regroup and call a time-out
I'm fuel-exhausted from the stomach up
I shit a rhyme out
Cobra on top of my hat spit a rhyme out
The golden mummies make a statement
Ya chick piss on the couch
The Nigerian queens feed the king
Time is cereal
That's some shit that you won't even get close to ya fuckin' mouth
Golden dogs walk around the fuckin' house
With navigation connected to your bitch eyebrows
The stars crystal off my pubic hair
While you face the throne
18 million for the princess Diana's chair
>>7377795
Oh.
Then it's just him being a dick.
And what do you carry in your chest?
A congress of white worms,
Fit to burst a rotted pomegranite.
You have lice in your liver, son.
Your gears are sick.
>>7377594
memories of being a sperm in your mother's vagina
Dissonance demagnified into infinitesimal mandelbrot links of iron wires flailing at fellow cells vibrate to the diamond tether jerks dislocations rips cuts of astral ambitions pumping life until exhaustion collapses system prone face flaccid sprawled on refined earth perverted nature polluting oxygen with each breath in and out and stop no in just stop breathing heart palpitates wires flail loose in vacuumed space at breakneck speeds becoming debris piercing flesh until desperation contracts into prince rupert drops whose tails could be terminated with careful planning.
>>7377994
actually, I edit my analysis
memories of being a sperm on your mother's face, which she then rubbed into her vagina to conceive you
>>7377758
They're called portmanteaus. If you use them too much, then you deserve to get shit. Read that shitty short story that Cedric Bixlar-Zavala wrote and you'll see why portmanteaus can be fucking annoying to read.
>>7377994
>>7378015
Pretty accurate. To break it down completely, "light through lids" is literally light through eyelids; "steel screams" is his alarm clock; the face is a picture of his mother, which is explained through "placental warmth, the memory of it, percolates through the still air"; the [shifts] mean that the protag is shifting physically; "crystal droplets" are tears (it will take too long to explain why she is crying).
>>7377683
So if someone doesn't like something that you like, and this thing happens to be experiential, they're pretentious?
>>7377794
>pentameter
>no meterical feet
Y u do dis
>>7377690
is this an undertale reference
>>7377594
A bug in a glass jar sees its human captor.
Light through lids is the holes poked in the lid of the jar, which "screams" as it is screwed on. A child looks at the bug from outside the glass. The chamber is small, trapping, like a mother's womb. Don't know about wrinkles. The last part is a statement of the depravity of human pet ownership and the protagonist's sorrow at being a victim.
http://pastebin.com/J3rb6S44
I wrote this while bored out of my mind on a plane journey. I think it was supposed to be porn.
>>7377724
this is really bad. you're overwriting like a motherfucker
>>7377736
You're a faggot and you clearly think your writing is good.
It's not that it's not good that's the problem (although it is not good) it's that it's really uninteresting.
Light through lids, I'm a baby, whow waking up is hard, whaahaaaaa :O where am I???
How many Prousts or Kafkas were arrested at the gates of literary greatness by a vigorous, dependable young girl?
Her shapeliness just visible through the smart uniform that holds fast to her body, her professional courtesy not quite so polished that it stops her from running a delicate hand through her flaxen hair as her bright young eyes flit across your identity documents.
It burns within them; it will never leave them.
Prance on prance on outstanding lists emma ugh my gifts via jeez yet owe huge red ebb nude drip holocaust diatribes disruptions light list it's chill puts reed red read pour sunshine chalice triple resinous polyps polio harmonics me me puts lure me me
Here light that lure low maidens laden bright open potions portents hell harms pandering proficient promiscuous grid grain thorough their talents heartfelt eruption.
>>7378092
No but dismissing something because you think it's just not the plain, boring, regurgitated copy of hemmingway's style every english writer is supposed to follow makes me a sad panda.
(1/?)
Fear and Loathing in the New Sincerity
How am i feeling on drugs?
fuck my hands are melting into the kleyboards and their all in themselves like my milky cream seepiynh to itself and of as a above of upon myself. ow. WOW
the voies come from where??
IVE GOT THE POWERS THAT B !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IVE THE TOW POERWSD THAT BEE !@!!
RIHNNING THROUGHT ME
MY FABVOURTIE COLOUR IS OH MY GOD BITCH
GLABGOBLACE POKECKTETS
WAHT THE FUCK HAPPENS
WHEN AS FUCK GIVES UNDER N
O
CIRCUMESTN CLOCK
cant catch up tim him the music yeti yelling man for me.
melting into nothingness and dripping some existence s upon these rainbow oceanic universes free for me to explore . good time. my fvoureite colour is OH MY GOD BITCH
laura is talking and sencind electric up on me and leting my dimensions in to the keyboards sound waves. too alte car Door DOHG OOH NO
Mum
wait
5 minutes sooonigh
School has ended, I am doing my best to write in a way that will best be interpreted by someone (and/or anyone) to be written by one who is sober, and/or soberly. As of writing this, I am approaching a time of ten weeks - I will be responsible for carrying out no schoolly duties, and this have that a responsibility itself. And of course you must remember, this is me currently writing as soberly as I possibly can - under this influence of me. The typing on the keys hurts me, the keys bounce and scream at me - they push back my fingers and bones into newer, greener dimensions of electric time waves to myself. Sober. Let me start again - new dimensions of sound shaping to me write a new way.
I’m under the influence of drugs - and am currently in a position to be soon under the influence of many more Schedule 8-9 substances. And I do not need to attend school for the next ten weeks.
1 TAKYON
I am writing about my experiences, of now only marijuana, and possible remaining traces of dextromethorphan (DXM-(IWANTITINEEDIT)). Hoping to from this point, document any forthcoming drug experiences.
>>7378657
(2/?)
reality is very brittle
there must be more of something (myself) in myself right now than weed. weed couldn’t do this this is me. myself. I don’t know where to start and my train of thought keeps crashing off the rails and I’m gone again forever, in circles of pity trying to talk but its too late and I should stop now.
To begin telling, there are three things I should establish. What I will be doing, what I am doing, and what I have done. I’ve previously been under the influence of weed, alcohol, and DXM. People have been saying that I do too much, but that’s not right. I have just finished Year 11, and have found myself in a position to acquire many illegal substances - and am now awaiting 10 weeks without any responsibilities. If things go according to the plan I am manifesting here - I will be choosing between a normal, responsible, safe life - or perform a two month drug binge - exploring myself to the deepest depths - and rejected all experiences of the other. Having the will to choose between these two options. Is terrifying.
Day 1 - 20 November 2015
The day begins to be shockingly boring. Class time misestimated, no drugs on anyone. All gone. I have one class to attend, everyone else will be skipping the class - I must be going for else I should fail the class. And so I sat for the one hour and 30 minutes of class. Not yet under the influence, we togetherly watching Inside Out - sober me found it very emotional and had to try to not cry. Later on, discussing with Lucas - we considered where we were we wexisted. I had a car to drive, and Lucas has marijuana at his nearby home. We drove there, a suburban cool speed of 3 miles above the limit. Lucas eating nutella - straight out of the jar along the way. We acquired a fancy looking lockbox, with no lock - in it were a small TupperWare container, and an awful pipe. The was made using a contorted, human centipede style made Gatorade bottle pipe - pieced and screwed together with still drippy glue. Using the same lid, apparently the hole style helped make it feel good when breathing. And on the other end, sticking out is a remaining dirty piece of garden hose - also with drippy glue. We drive back to school, seeing if anyone is still there (and Lucas needs his bike) Laura has left, Lucas gets his bike still eating Nutella. I leave him alone, Nutellad and drug free.
I drove home sober, and entered the house with the intention of no longer remaining sober. It is currently around 4:50 PM. I consider all the many possibilities that could go wrong in this. My mum could come home early, to find me sitting on the garage floor - in a cloud of smoke. I could while inebriated, forget a vital piece of evidence and leave a bong on the table forgotten. I could create too much smoke, attract police attentions and get caught with the substances...
>>7378660
(3/3)
I took two cones through Lucas’ shitty pipe - a packed cone lasted 2 seconds before running out of smoke as it wasn’t really airtight. And it tasted like poisonous plastic smoke was there somehow. Too gross for my health. Abandoning the pipe I try to make a ‘waterfall’ bong - something I have often wanted to attempt - but until now never had any reason to. So now was my chance to make a ‘waterfall’ bong. The waterfall bong uses not you to pull the smoke from the cone. A large bottle is get got, a hole is cut in the bottom and the hole is plugged with your finger, and the bottle is filled with water. A cone piece is then added to the lid part, air-tight, and lit. The water is then let to leak from the hole in the bottom and the pressure change from the water falling out pulls smoke out of the cone. You then block the hole again, take the lid off and take the full cone. Mine however didn’t work at all and wasted my third cone. I then was reasonably high, and proceeded to watch Pulp Fiction while eating leftover Chinese food. I then, as usual felt sad and sober. I cut off some hose, found a Powerade bottle, and made a standard bong. I got back the mix and headed back to garage. I thought there would be about one cone left, so I pulled it. There was still much more. As I underestimated how much mix was left I ended up having 4 more cones, with another still left. I was then, very high.
Day 2 - 21 November 2015
12:09 AM
...or I could panic, question why I’m and get way too high and leave for a little while to write a book on psychedelia. And that is where we find myself now:
It’s too late at tired for someone as night as me. Musical vibrations wash over me, they comfort me in electrical forms - and help me ignore the dissonance of me and reality. To ground me. Seated at the computer, doing internet things, waiting for this to end. The first drug experience of my time without school has ended a lot more boringly then I had hoped - more dissociation would have helped. There were some voices, yelling and laughing at me - nothing out of the ordinary. I had until the second of February 2016 to have more drug experiences. The weed was ok I guess. Sleeping now.
>>7377826
>that pic
>that post
Niiiiiceee
>>7378664
Talking about drugs is intrinsecaly interesting, isn't it? Such big boys stuff
>>7378693
I know it's stupid. Just going with the theme of the thread.
http://pastebin.com/N0vXEAic
>>7378657
I love this. It's similar to what I write and how I think and I see lots of potential value in us talking about literature together and sharing writing. I know this sounds weird but I feel really strongly for what is supposedly your 4chan throwaway text.
If you respond and want to, I can drop an email. I'm a member of a few Facebook groups and have a small literary clique at my college and if you want to, in a very telecommuter type way, get involved in our collaboration and correspondence that would be the best.
>>7378725
Sure, what's your email?
It's your boy big k Kaito kolstice maybe Mara Aand the funk
In the punk in Drublic
Might go Demarcus cousins in a fuckin Publix
It's your main boy Zachariah; look like Anthony fantano
But the pig do not require
HAL O' MEME
HAL O' MEME
DESE SPOOPY SKARY
HALLOW MEMES
DRUNK AND HIGH AND LIKE FOUR OTHER SUBSTANCES
RUNNIN THROUGH 21st
WITH MY BROWN-SKINNED REPUBLICANS
REFORM IS THE ENEMY OF REVOLUTION
CONFORM IS THE ENEMY OF DESOLATION
SOUNDS HELLA SKETCHY AND FRESHMAN-LIKE
BUT YOU NEVA GOT THIS FRESHMAN high
Cancelled auto correct cause I'm the real person in this group yeah you won't bury me you asshole porscholes because
He is your god you man your "check your privilege" go
On boogers and fun I see the pieces of
Every party I ever worked with and
"Never get hgh on you own shit"
Or am I feeling that other dudes shit?
PUNK IN DRUBLIC
MIGHT GO DEMARCUS COUSINS
IN A FUCKIN PUBLIX
>>7378731
could work as cloud rap lyrics desu
>>7378735sent
>>7378657
>>7378660
>>7378664
you seem cool but this is bad writing the trip report parts fulfil their purpose and would make for exemplary erowid accounts with more details and the other stuff trimmed but little to recommend it as prose, not enough to chew on. the "experimental" parts seem tacked on to an otherwise cohesive story and these consist mostly of death grips lyrics...? ur strength is in the point by point description of your drug experience and the social nuances surrounding it :o
>>7378468
first sentence is nothing, recommend discarding it entirely.. second: pure gold, flows like honey. funny and moving, really good
>>7377718
>the groaning threat of the tidal illness
nice
>>7377801
"crazy"
>>7377695
this is for babies
>>7377702
really good. would suggest removing "on the" after "gypsy shack"...removing "way out".... removing "the" before "poorly indian" and "of" or "an" before "artificial candle"
- the first few lines are hot fire, keep up on it
>>7378768
>the "experimental" parts seem tacked on
Honestly I didn't actually mean for any of that to be 'prose', I was just writing whatever I was thinking at the time.
>>7378735
Go to bed, Kolsti. Seriously it's 6:30
>>7378431
I'm sorry, anon. I didn't mean anything by it. I just didn't have a better response.
>>7378810
Does this mean that I'm kicked out of your special club?
I'm flying: Ever wonder what a flyer does? He flies to the sea to be brought above. Listen here while I write with fear.Bring down the air so vivid clear. Dance the dance to kill the trance. Ever wonder what a flyer does?
Pander to the light downcast conversation versus finding a way of self and selfless revelations dawn onward beaming or endless mimetic imps pulsing projecting toady moans and white faced barren crags of lost hope over flowing like the words of dead men unremembered and under towing like a muddy current snagging wayward children drawn to the pull and chill like a brothers rigorous body squatting downward into casket knowing the face is wrong and plastic like a troll lost in the dryer among crusted socks and metal shirts worn out by morticians wax and more dictions whacking endless overlooked by all for the sake of new direction one dire erection falling flaccid between the thighs thinking why must we watch the girls with sad eyes take mouthfuls of shame and money shots in the form of beamed light sent from apertures aping an act of conception and seeming to come like four horsemen spraying across the face of creation and sacred official landscape dank darkly we run escape seeking to buy girlfriends and don trimmed armor grandly exchanging gaudy baubles that only exist in far away buzzing towers falling conspicuous like lasagna fountains little wain pulling onward westward forwarded mail from mother spouting resume tips and interview overview under review but never concluded and yet my wagon pulls away to blue fields of infinite pinched blooms waiting to be gathered ground and pulped into unread books for children to judge by their cover under cover of nocturnal emissions covering mountaintops and tissues crumpled in balls at the foot of the monitor while they snicker at corn and faceless banter and still the urge to cater and seek the approval of this message by weak illiterate manchild parrots whose spelunking no more than platonic scrapings their eyes blinded by shadows their four chains clamping down appendages endless and still this one finds impulse to shout astern erring to notice that spooked infants heed only to tears threaded by dead poets so cited leaving posts mortem arthur aardvarks janitors keys clinking down an empty hall sound bouncing off walls yet unheard.
