/lit/ - Literature

Write about a school bully in a Proust-like manner.

I just wrote this for this thread. Get it started.

In today’s sunniest days
We merely live in the wind
In the most disgusting way
With hopes all grinned
Pianos rot with ash
And guitars gone to decay
Pens sit in hell
Along side feathers of yesterday
Just a forgotten spell
And a rusty bell
For no one to quell
They don’t sleep on the beach anymore
They sleep on the beach no more

I stood in the shadows helpless
Crying in despair; hopeless
Oh God, what to wear what to dress?
She's no longer the daughter I caress
She's no longer mine

What to do God? It's her wedding night
I must leave; maybe get a flight
I won't feel her anymore, not after tonight
Run away, I must! I won't fight

A black suit and a black tie
Under my lonely cry
As I shed a tear for a forgotten yesterday
The night she was born in; the best of May
All gone to decay

I weep and then laugh, and then cry
As she smiles, and flies
In the wide sky of Love
Not mine, but another man's
Who I must like, but cannot stand
She'll lie in his arms
Not mine; they're now mere sand

Her place is in my heart is saved
Her face in my eyelids will remain
Maybe she'll keep me in her mind a stain
And in her heart, an immovable name
"My father, the mountain where I once played
and where I will rest one day"

I’ll smile for you, my only daughter
In my heart you will always hover
I’ll do it all, for that smile
Which tonight will shine
As you light your way
through that heavenly maze
Of a love other than that of father
Oh, my daughter, in my heart you will always hover

>>4125199
I'm a ruse-man of high caliber.

Why?

I’ve been practicing smiling in the mirror lately. My cheeks tend to become a bundle of pain whenever I move them, which makes my rare smile appear even more unnatural. I don’t know why I don’t laugh much, or why I don’t talk a lot. I like to believe that there really isn’t anything worth mentioning on my part, so I must keep silence. Sometimes I feel like I must reply in a conversation, but I get this whole conversation in my head in which I contradict myself, and I defeat myself in the argument making my reply sound childish, so I just agree ‘okay’.
I bought a cake the other day. I did it for no concrete reason; the white-cream circle in the middle of the chocolate mess on top of the cake appeared appealing to me. I haven’t had any sugar in a while. I never liked sugar, and today I never add it to my coffee and tea.
The sun wasn’t really at its brightest when I came back home. I felt extremely tired though I did little work. I changed my clothes and dropped myself into more comfortable ones, but I didn’t feel comfortable. I made my tea very slowly enjoying the silence around me, although I did miss my neighbor’s daily cry. My neighbor got murdered by a sick man a month ago; it was a disgusting scene. When I finished my tea, I fell into my bed and slept for a day or two, or at least it felt like it. My cake spent a few lonely days in my fridge untouched, until I decided to give it to the building’s janitor. He was nervous, but he accepted it with a smile. It added a positive vibe to my day, but it did not last.

How do you expect me to unleash my opinions concerning a certain book if I don't know the opinion of the thread-creator known also as The OP.
I want to know The OP's opinion and what it's based on. I must know the quality of The OP's analysis and his point of view before giving mine, because when what I mentioned takes place, I'd be in a better position to release my criticism, analysis and opinion concerning the book discussed.

I open the exact middle of the book and slide in gently on my cheek, and in that moment: the book and I are one.

>A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

O fall you fell upon us
like my victim’s last tear
as I forced her to inhale my spear
Furiously yet smoothly;
a tender sex machine

Oranges fall from humongous trees
tender and soothing wind is unleashed
upon my naked body, I feel
The fall’s becoming
Fall is here

>>3945044
Who?

"Delete my porn folder; it's called 'My Porn'. I know I'm creative."

>mfw they find that it's full of Wittgenstein pictures.

No, man. I'm deprived of human emotions, and that makes me very sad.