/lit/ - Literature

Survey time:

Do you write?

Have you submitted your writing to a publication before? Was it accepted?

Did you submit to / help with The April Reader, Ideology, Hypersphere or any other /lit/ related projects?

Would you participate a /lit/ magazine that's not total garbage?

What would you like to see in a /lit/ magazine?

>>19560886
At least you're human. They don't have an identity (they have a biologically corrupted cosplay instead), an engaged consciousness, a partner (true, they have a mirror image of
nothingness, which, while comforting, adds rather than detracts from their emptiness), anything at all worth living for except oblivion. They're mutilated living suicides. If you envy that, get your shit together loser... Or at least you're the biggest loser on the planet which is an achievement of sorts. In any case, you're better off.

Survey time:

Do you write?

Have you submitted your writing to a publication before? Was it accepted?

Did you submit to / help with The April Reader, The Lit Quarterly, &amp or any other /lit/ related projects?

Would you participate a /lit/ magazine that's not total garbage?

What would you like to see in a /lit/ magazine?

>>15151780
Is this a submission?

>>14822912
Oh that was you? Filtered!

>>8769236
It should end with the postscript 'Just Kidding. I was born in the 90s & programmed by television, what would ye expect?' FM radio and reality blended for, well, whatever, it’s a shame, plus weird life-dreams. Oh man I hope they come true.'

After I finished reading yr post, I felt exhausted and I decided to go to drink a bottle of medicine even though it's only 9pm EST, and so honestly, in response to what you wrote, 'unbidden' sure is fucking dumb m9.

This:

'Braggart's snow, the loudness of ice. Tip toeing, creeping, sneaking, creaking flame. Sin; silent, sinuous, amorous, twisting virtue. Like iron snakes that melt and drip and slip and slide.'

Is by far the most hilariously stupid thing I've seen in a lonnnnng time. Say it out loud to yrself. Do you make funny voices? Or was this a joke & I'm taking ye seriously? Also why are you trying to wield a semicolon? You look like a RETARD.

Good evening. Tonight my guest is AFL/CIO chairman George Meany, who will be discussing collective bargaining agreements. Mr. Chairman, let me be blunt; is there a labor crisis in America Today?

Well Krusty, that depends on what you mean by crisis?

You have selected regicide. If you know the name of the king or queen being murdered press one.

>>7894002

[Last Time] → This Time

Preposition Ratio: [12.13 %] → 11.94 %

Z Nouns: [television, opinion, location] → extension, position

Lexical Diversity: [40%] → 38.2 %

Content Carrying Words: [53.19%] → 56.68 %

Personal Vocab Diversity: [60.82%] → 58.86 %

Longest Words: [subconsciously] → ramifications, tyrannosaurus

○ 'Jim’s sister was a better cook, but' → 'His sister was the better cook, but'

○ Good to know yr still working on it :^|)

>>What is this?

Pinecone Magazine is the /lit/ magazine that publishes when there is actual content worth anyone's time.

>>7451342
>>7451337

Survey time:

Do you write?

Have you submitted your writing to a publication before? Was it accepted?

Did you submit to / help with The April Reader, Ideology, Hypersphere or any other /lit/ related projects?

Would you participate a /lit/ magazine that's not total garbage?

What would you like to see in a /lit/ magazine?

Who is your favorite writer?

>>7205684
>my weakened windpipe
And that's not even the crinkliest thing ye wrote.

sporadic/syncopated/2nd sentence/3rd sentence/5th sentence—especially also bad/No warmth in snowstorms(? 2deep)/ faintly taps translucent window pains←holy fuck the redundancy/no way did you tag that w/'in desperation'←ye did, ha! haha!/this list is getting 2 long 4 me

Pretend yr 10 years older and showing it to yr wife. That should maybe hopefully clean it up. Actually, just read it out loud. That will help, all joshing around aside.

>>6874859
This is the kind of dictionary spin art that can only come from a deep dark jungle of erections spurting into lonely socks over the course of a life that's lasted under two dozen years.

>>6788800
NEITHER CAN ANYONE ELSE, but:

Meretricious metric shenanigans + BIIBIIBIIB—dat Mark of Cain cleaving muh mind wall: don't ye know to bury yr EYEs? + That's one azny poem missy + I not only wish you were a good idea but that you had them too + You are an idea to everyone that isn't you and but also you too—what's U2 to you? And what's U2 to U2?

tl;dr

I wish you never posted yr poetry.
I wash my hands of ye.
But I'm not ræl.

>>6721075
>oboyherewego.gif

He ran his hands along the rung of the ladder, and underneath his fingers the faded paint chipped away, and beneath that he could see rusted metal. The ladder hung from from the top of the building down into the narrow alley. And to test its rigidity he gripped the thing at both sides and shook it. It was much sturdier than it looked—at least as far as he could tell—but he still feared the metal was too rusted, and knowing his luck, he would find out halfway up. But it was freezing out. He knew he'd suffer more if he didn't just go and so he went, securing his sleeping bag by its strap and making his way up.

He fell through an open window on the second story and once inside he reached out and shook the ladder again and looked down. The room was rotted and humid and he felt as though he could smell mildew in the damp wooden floor. The boards didn't creak as he walked, they sunk beneath his weight, like there was a small layer of mud beneath. He had no desire to look around. He closed the window behind him as much as he could, and he stayed where the street-light came in through the window. He was too afraid to sleep in the strange dark. He got in his sleeping bag and pulled over himself a stinking tablecloth he had found. He was too exhausted to worry and he fell asleep without a thought.

His chest seized as he woke and free-fall nausea twisted in him and he felt his hip crack with a sudden impact and felt his arm forced from its socket. And his stomach seized with intense pain. He scrambled like a frantic rodent, and he felt his shoulder grind back into place, and it made him retch, and what little he had eaten came up, an acidic and lumpy material, and it stained the floor.

He began to moan loudly and his eyes darted around this new room that looked almost identical to the other save for the gaping hole in the ceiling.


—Sorry. I can't help myself.