/lit/ - Literature

It's far to short to give any real feedback on, but I personally love stripped back dialogue with no redundant 'he/she said' clutter.

>>3694764
It's all I got. It was like a page but I cut it down to this. I'll do some more later maybe

It went from very basic, to suddenly wordy.

Why is this?

>>3694777
It was just what I wanted to say, I guess.

>>3694773
You should. It feels like there should be another post.
I can't rate it in good conscience. Which is good because I don't know what I'm talking about anyway

I like the simple part and disliked the wordy part. I also like Wild Turkey.

I actually like it. The contrast between the wordy and the not is kinda cool but that really long sentence should be cut down a little

>>3694743
>abscissa and ordinate plotted neatly and intersected somewhere in me once but I like to think I disremember her now that I've come into myself.
Those feels, bro. Keep writing.

>>3695449
thanks man. thanks anyone who read it even if youre not down

I like the way you write about feeling empty. Keep writing you're good at it.

Cut that last sentence down and it'll be perfect. Think it of a steak with just a little too much fat or gristle.

Otherwise, nice work :)

Post some more bro. You've got my interest.

I don't have any more tonight, guys. Sorry.

How about whoever's here post something short?

unrelated: heavily (almost exclusively) inspired by cormac mccarthy. the man is unique

>>3695982


this past vision is excellent.
it puts a certain taste in the air
like nickels soaked in milk.
i see white
the calcium storms break free
from their illumination
and drown my mouth
with the sweat of flavor.
i dive into wastelands of filth
and never stop facing
calcium dreams,
flowing sour like limes,
too many limes to hold!
and nickels that only
cost 5 cents.

in a lost time I touched you last
and there are memories which never failed you.
i want to climb aboard you
once again, hold you
and remind you that my fingers
are your eyes
into the swirling loop that is
what I am;
reality
in me?
and through me
to you
I say
Hello.
Welcome to the dream.

>>3694743
sounds like the beginning to a short story! I would take this as inspiration and keep working with it. I think you have a great idea, now you just need to develop it.

Nicely done, OP

>>3696003
Is this yours? Very strong first half

>>3696026
just started on it tonight. glad you like it.

>>3696026

Time is on

and off.

I sleep myself awake.

The beginning looks like an end

I can't stop leaning into.
Each morning I fall rival

to the one who slept in my

skin last night.

Unable to speak, automated systems

replace the clockwork of me

with viral solutions to paradoxes

found scratched into the palms

of yesterday and tomorrow.
If only I were half the brain and twice the brawn

I’d fight for my true self,

but I'll roll out of bed tomorrow

dead and alive.
Animals stop to contemplate the moon,

and trees dig holes into the sky.

What they fail to realize

is just how far they’ve reached

until they’re free-falling.

>>3695982
Okay!

First paragraph:

Listening is so much better than talking or writing. If I could only listen for as long as the air carried sound, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Expression is so limiting to me who wants only to take in the world and all its resonances. If I had to give up one of my faculties, it would be speech, with thought a close second. Thankfully I am dictating this letter to no one, I’m writing it myself. It’s a small price to pay for the feeling of intimacy I’ll feel whilst awaiting any reply from you. I hope that same warmth finds you through these clumsily chosen words, even though such a great distance separates us.

Working on epistolary format like I'm in the 18th century. Please tear it apart.

Thorn in my side; tear me asunder. Let your festering mound race up my gullet unannounced to spill forth onto the ground.
Rancid and stale.
Leave me kneeling weak on the porcelain, shivering and pale.

>>3696035
Listening is better than talking or writing. If I could listen as long as the air carried sound, I would not hesitate to do so.
Expression limits the world and all resonances thereupon. If I had given up one of my faculties, it would have been speech. If two were given, thought and speech would they be. Thankfully I am dictating this letter to no one but myself with the feeling I’ll feel whilst awaiting any reply from you. I hope that warmth finds you through these clumsily chosen words, even though such a great distance separates us.

(the end is kinda cheesy, but I think it works! stop trying to make weird loops in your words and get to the core of what makes the narrative descriptive! more color, more action, more IMAGE! very nice draft)

>>3696003
>>3696031
I wish I had seen these before posting mine. I don't know anything about poetry but I like these.

>>3696040
Sounds like metal lyrics, but I still like it.

I need to find a way to express preference for listening without sentimentalizing it. I think that's what's wrong with my opener.

>>3696047
>the end is kinda cheesy

Yeah you're right. This is one story that I really want to avoid sentimentality in. Thanks for the advice.

>>3695982

He is so perfect.
So clean cut, so well dressed, so polished, perfect, and keen.
He is the sharpest tool in the shed.
Honed to a perfect rigid edge like a blade forged for forty million years. Coated in a flimsy soft case that guarantees lesions or bruising if dropped and equipped with an internal processing unit that requires vigilant maintenance. Personality sold separately. Desperately, he clings to what he knows:
As product of every product.
He is the beachfront house,
The better mousetrap,
The stain that just won't come out, That new taste sensation.
He is so perfect, so short lived.
But new is always better, and his hand crafted charm fades.
His battery life diminishes and the grease that now leaks from his joints soil his re-sell value.
The dust that gathers in his hair ravages the enamel, leaving circular imperfections that mark his intended use by date.
He is so perfect and everything is designed to fall apart.
And everything dies.
Even automatons.

>>3696064
it is good, though it would've been better if it were about a vibrator instead of a sexbot.

just sayin.

wrote this an hour ago, let the mediocrity ensue:

for secreting copious amounts of shit, and people love him for it.
My own obsession is that of observing others. I don’t get any particular physical rush, but more so a metaphysical tinge perpetuating itself in the interlocking strands of my nerves. Abstract sensations ride over my five senses and unlock a sixth sense when I just sit there and watch. I have heard the nickname “owl-eyes” come up around me, on account of my aforementioned fixation with watching others, although I feel the owl description is inaccurate. I’d say my eyes and the way they watch others is more in line with the cliché of a hawk’s watchful eyes, catching even the slightest of movements and mentally clocking as further documentation for future use. You can ascertain the verisimilitude of a person by watching the way they move their arms, the arching movements of walking legs, or even the slight shifting adjustment of the eyes to match lines of vision.
'This person is frightened of things smaller than she is, like children. This man just had sex yesterday. This person is transgendered and has been actively trying to represent it as neither he nor she, but as “he/she.”
An astonishing amount of personal info comes from simply watching others.

>>3696064
He is perfect.
Clean cut, polished, perfect, and keen.
He is the sharpest tool in the shed
honed like a blade forged for forty million years with an internal processing unit that requires vigilant maintenance. Personality sold separately. Desperately, he clings to what he knows:
As product of every product.
He is the beachfront house,
The better mousetrap,
The stain that won't come out.
That new taste sensation.
Perfect, so perfect.
So short lived.
New is always better, and his charm battery diminishes as grease leaks from his joints and soils his re-sell value.
The dust that gathers in his hair ravages the enamel, leaving circular imperfections that mark his perfection.
He is so perfect, so perfectly designed to fall apart.
And everything dies.
Even automatons.

(This is a nice piece. I think you do too much telling and not enough showing, and sometimes I think you need to blend your images, but the images you do have are very solid! Keep up the good work, and work on this piece!)

>>3696080
you are telling us A LOT, but you're not showing us anything! We need some concrete images to really make this piece pop! Don't tell us you are called Owl eyes, show us HOW you HAVE owl eyes; how they function. Personify the things you want to show and make them live and breathe. Right now this is more of an exposition than a piece of creative fiction, but I certainly think you can turn it into something if you bring us into the setting a little more.

>>3696086
also, I think you can cut the last 2 lines. I think it's more powerful to end on "designed to fall apart." It alludes and makes you go there, and it doesn't really help the story whether or not he's an automaton or a sex bot.

just a suggestion!

>>3695982
I can hear him now.
Moping down the stairs.
Because his feet are made of iron and his head of lead.
It's surprising he didn't fall
nervously into a ball.
To wither
And slither
Softly down the hall.

>>3696114
i really like the flow of the ending, it's very catchy!

>>3695982
Her eyes twitch and flicker like lights about to die and her lips are pursed precariously in an ever tilted smile.
Hazel hair teeters tentatively down her face in fear of being brushed aside. Melanie always means to do well but it doesn't help her confidence when she does horrible things like burning Joe's toast or dropping plates or losing key after key. Or dropping out of journalism to answer phones all day. She deserves it though, because her lot in life is comfortable and that's more than an odd looking klutz like her needs. Because while she could be more successful and happier, she's pretty content as she is. This was how Melanie comforted herself; by making herself think that there was some other universe in which she wasn't a waste of space But everyday the stars and planets have less meaning, and everyday the universe is just one cold unstructured flat plane.

>>3694743
Granny is in the kitchen doing what?
Why is she talking about talking to herself?
Are you in the kitchen with her, did you enter asking what she said?