drink booty, eat whiskey

[Zen]

Eyes shut. I’m driving, slumped. I’ve had a few, I admit, ‘bout nine or such. I forget. Shit.

Yeah, life is dumb. I wake up and wait to die because I hate so much. That’s strange, huh? Maybe I stay drunk because I’m afraid of my paystub, and this place of mine. This low-tier apartment with the broken mirror, but the heart is here.

HOME.

Yes.

I go, but it’s getting hard to steer.

I wonder how it’d feel to smash through the windshield at this speed like that boy that died a couple years younger than me. Brian, I think his name was. He drove drunk into a tree. People were really tore up and wiping their tears. He had his whole life ahead of him. Least that’s what they told us. In high school, where people lie the most. They said I could be anything. I chose to be a fly on the mole on Penelope Cruz’s tit (in Vanilla Sky, you know?) when I deep-dive into her clothes, and I keep trying but NOOOOOOOOOO.

Keep your eyes on the road. You can’t commit suicide without writing a note. STUPID. You always die alone. It only takes a second to say “good-bye” to it all. Put on your best suit and say to “hi” to a hole.

Isn’t it funny how life is a joke? Too bad no one’s laughing. Why? I don’t know.

I cruise along the highway with the lights on low, looking at the empty houses like mine. FORECLOSED.

Back to the apartment. Maybe I’ll try her on the phone and watch her ignore me a couple times until this feels like home.

Ade…She was special. Yeah, wasn’t she?

Hair: Black.
Personality: Bubbly.

She’d take selfies driving while she's drunk. Tequila w/ lime in her cup. She told me she's only alive in the club. There, she's nothing. The night was enough. One with the pack, she’d vibe with the horde. I’d sit and watch her dance with the neon lights on the floor.

She told me she loved me with her eyes on the door.

Yeah, I’ve had better and worse, but nothing ever is perfect. And at least she taught me that forever isn’t permanent. It's better as a moment. Caress it and hold it. It’s special.

Then it’s over.

[dead man]

Isn’t it funny how life is a joke? Too bad no one’s laughing. Why? I don’t know.

I cruise along the highway with the lights on low, looking at the empty houses like mine. FORECLOSED.

Back to the apartment. Maybe I’ll try her on the phone and watch her ignore me a couple times until this feels like home.

Ade…She was special. Yeah, wasn’t she?

Hair: Black.
Personality: Bubbly.

She’d take selfies driving while she's drunk. Tequila w/ lime in her cup. She told me she's only alive in the club. There, she's nothing. The night was enough. One with the pack, she’d vibe with the horde. I’d sit and watch her dance with the neon lights on the floor.

She told me she loved me with her eyes on the door.

all of this was great. my favorite section was the first line of this portion though. the very definition of brevity done right.

your recollections are the connectivity and love of others. i would read an entire book of your works. yeah, it's melancholy and sometimes upsetting but it never becomes aphoristic or cliche. it's always just you. not many writers, letalone the amateur creative bunch we have here, can covey themselves so well with so much honesty that it feels like a conversation and not a diatribe. don't lose that if you can help it.

thanks zen

1

[Vulgar]

Poignantly written. This kind of contemporary realism is hard to pull off. It's one of the defining features of Eminem's contributions to rap music and lyricism. The curt, honest, sharp prose style featuring cynical characters - I read "The Zoo Story" by Edward Albee, and if you haven't read it, you should, it's dope. The language here just felt very natural, like you were filming an extra scene of the movie Waking Life and inserted the life of a friend you might know who has become sullen from life's pitfalls.

Overall, good work. I mean that.

Keep doing you

[Mike Wrecka]

Damn bro this was a really enjoyable read. You certainly have evolved/ elevated. Very impressive. Your verses come off as effortless streams of consciousness . This type of internal reflection can sometimes come off forced or can get boring quickly but this was really engaging. Some really beautiful phrases used here. Great job

[El Muffin]

Man. @Zen

There's paragraph style..and then there's this

lol I pity the noob who reads this one day n based ff presentation ..think it's an informal self relection of some sort n not pure artistry

I love how this is structured

Never mind the content. I read..but not in my element so cant critique someone so adept at what they do.Just figured I'd give u a first impression-esque perspective..and that u might appreciate that?

I don't know

This grabs attention

Is what I mean

[big baby]

sucked thx

[Fig]

BB just mad because his parents are dead

This was dope bruseph. I'll return with feed bruham

[Split Eight]

cruise along the highway with the lights on low, looking at the empty houses like mine. FORECLOSED.


Dope. I'm not sure why "with the lights on low set" such a strong tone in this sentence. I think this line is a great example of what separates okay writers from really good writers, you know?

Like, to those unacquainted with writing, they may pick up a novel of acclaim and some penny paperback garbage, read a paragraph from each & not understand the appeal of the literature. It is often drier, sometimes more convoluted, even sometimes less visual.

Your writing is none of those things

I like reading Zen verses because since you started, your pieces have always been completely independently done of critique or criticism. Whether or not someone is in the thread slappin you on the back or telling you to get lost, you're writing your story. And it really does feel like your story.

I almost get a "True Detective" vibe from your world building.


Anyways, back to this line.

cruise along the highway with the lights on low, looking at the empty houses like mine. FORECLOSED.

There's an abstract emotion or point being expressed here. The emphasis on "foreclosed" as a visual marker [foreclosure signs] and as serious event in one's life [theres an air, or connotation associated with foreclosure in the last few years of American history. It symbolizes the death of small town America & the ultimate failure of the American ideaology that with hard work and dedication you will reap the fruits of your rewards. Further, it highlights the struggle of individuals against consequences outside of their control]

Your use of the word here, therefore, brings attention to not only a struggle in your life, but it's immediate bearing on the way that you describe your surroundings and what that means. Your descriptives have become a reflection of yourself.

This is a very powerful literary tool, one that is insanely difficult to put into practice in the context of such a short work.

Anyways- so you have established that your surroundings are a reflection of you. Thus, your interactions with your surroundings are an interaction with yourself.

"Lights down low" is an intimate, living room type of lighting to me. This makes me feel like you're almost in a movie, or like in a daze, sitting on the couch, watching Matt Lauer narrate a news van's drive down the abandoned homes in your city.

Anyways that line was beautifully done. There are other good bits of writing, but that made me feel like I was about to read a deeply introspective and personal writing.


I think that what prevents the average writer from stumbling upon this complex system of literary dynamics, is that while you can say X means Y about anything, it only makes sense when that fact contributes to a greater cause. That greater cause is only important when the writer has made it important to us. Then, that cause will only become important to us if the writer has built a sense of rapport with his or her readers, telling them to trust him or to stop & look at what she is saying. Often times, this connection is forged through demonstrations of skill (show-off language or rhyming) that says "grant my writing credibility for I am a good writer."

What's remarakble about Zen is that this rapport comes entirely from the experience of reading his verses.

[Split Eight]

Also I'd like to add as advice- there was immense potential for really painting a picture after that line I was drooling over, so it was frustrating to see you lapse back into dialogue or typical Zen shit about maybe contacting exes. I feel like as a writer, you could really move past that phase with the literal details of your writing, without abandoning those driving emotions or finding new muses. I'm waiting for you to explore these things on a new, deeper level without treading water with your words