8d (edited) • Writing Prompts & Exercises
Blue
Im feeling blue like brass tunes, weighed down underneath heavy jazz, but I can’t hear the music or understand the muse, just background sound to another outsider here for some amusement;
Parking myself to watch the bodies bounce like crickets, the people are cutting up and down the floor with classic moves and intentional switches from ten toes of one foot to their own flow and back again, their movements like life, unscripted.
Here the heat escapes and climbs like friction or a static shock, hot like streets underneath summer sunbeams, I’m sweating without participating, perspiring beneath a melancholy looming uncontrollably over me, fighting to avoid feeling defeated or downtrodden, run down and beat up by a life I can’t seem to figure out the moves to;
Im circling the spot, obsessing over this mental block, I can’t seem to build with and spiraling with thoughts and questions like: If life’s a game are you playing to win or playing for your enjoyment? If you’re playing for enjoyment how does one afford it? And if you’re playing to win then what is it that reports it and what measurements record it?
All around me humanity walks through waves of personal and external struggle, wading against the wake and into an unknown that renders my own dancing feet with an unbearable stagnancy,
So here I sit stationary, just a spectator praying tomorrow treats me fairly.
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Blue
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