A pitter patter batter pancake mix drips in drops on the splattered stove top burning fire from gas through wires and...

>A pitter patter batter pancake mix drips in drops on the splattered stove top burning fire from gas through wires and walls and tall doors separating maple wood floors from the kitchen and the red afghan spread opposite the ceiling chandelier dining room where it lays woven in intricate patterns scattered in symmetry, pancakes bubbling and burning imagery pussy feining and itching his scrotum before turning over the flap jacks on the stove top and eagerly waiting to eat pancakes and then jerk off up stairs where no one cares anymore besides no one occupies any of the floors anymore the place is haunted by friends whose names he didn't know anymore and this was no home but a joke where he brings whores to choke and fuck and throw out like his pasty plastic plate covered in generic maple syrup and small pieces of crumbs and kerrygold butter what a summer it's been so far, with dad so far, "I've been fucking like a pornstar" he says to himself oblivious to how worthless he feels himself not to mention the creeping suspicion on this whole business of Self because he's had much better luck when he pretended a self to get what he wanted and he would do anything to get what he wanted as long as he was never questioned what he wanted for getting what he wanted was enough to hide from the fact that he never could or would understand why he wanted what he wanted, taking cues was how he figured how he wanted, on the internet with other people he was able to follow what he wanted and what he wanted was to get it but not to get it you see wanting wants because it cannot see and of all things deaf dumb and blind was pussy fiend.


How's my prose

How much corn it's in your diet?

This is very unpleasant to read, what the fuck my dude.

Thank you

I... I honestly like it a lot.

This is unorinically awesome.

You're like an American, adderall-obsessed, materialistic version of Laszlo Kracznahorkai, though you need to edit some shit and suck a little less.

Agreed

Thank u my friends

Unironically really enjoyed this.

Fuuuuuck yeeaaaaa booiiiiiiii

how would hemingway write this

What a trip

Actually p. good but it gets a little bit weaker towards the end; the subject matter doesn't cleanly lend itself to the Ritalin-induced seizure of the first half, so try to spice it up with figurative language or digressions back into the material.

>prose
10/10

>content
2/10

Anyone who in this thread who says your prose is bad is jealous.

your prose is bad, and i'm not jealous.

>form/content dichotomy

I wrote this. Where did you find this?

i like it but change "pitter patter" into smth else it almost made me not read the whole thing

Yes

For sure, thanks user

That's a big compliment. I mean it's just a vignette of something (possibly) bigger. I will develop more content going forward, (if I do)

Like what

I liked the beginning and it has merit but it gets worse as it goes on.

Some parts remind of (bad) rap - especially the pornstar bit. Too much repetition in the end with 'wanted'.

Also, I don't think a couple periods, some more commas and structure would hurt.

something else that isn't a creative writing class tier phrase

>A pitter patter batter
Stopped reading right there. Started again
>splattered stove top burning fire from gas through wires and walls and tall doors
Stopped reading right there. Started again
>pancakes bubbling and burning imagery pussy feining and itching his scrotum before turning over the flap jacks
Stopped reading right there. Absolute fucking trash, my man.

Why not?

It started pretty off good but then it turned to shit. Don't rush it lad; there's potential.

It's unreadable. Absolutely no potential whatsoever.

Razor sharp, and kept it's musicality all the way until the second volley of 'wanted's.
If you could keep this up for an entire story I would happily read it. I'm high strung, and the constant pace was nice because it kept me engaged instead of creeping back to reality over the text. Take your time and keep at it. No hurry my brother. Find the right everything, don't even think of the end until it just is.

>How's my prose
sick but fictions moving towards autobiography these days so catch up bih

...

Baby shoes for sale; just one. Never worn.