the colours don't work

seeing the world through anti-rose coloured glasses

The colours don't work today

they are there

I can see them

they aren't trying

 

I'm here

I'm seeing

I'm even looking

my eyes are on

 

The greens are lazy

blues at half mast

yellows yawning

reds gone

 

maybe it's the dark matter finally showing itself

I'm the seeing goldfish today

 

slow thoughts meander

slow ideas half revealed

swimming through mud

I didn't mud; no fault of mine

 

walking walking walking walking

create the flow

move it: go go go

clear it smooth

 

cliche treatment

legs know this and so don't cooperate

walk me back

mud drying

 

colours work on other days

why?

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Extant]

I take this as one of those pieces that are written when more poetic thoughts, ideas, colours aren't showing themselves. A writers block concept. I think being able to think beyond survival and into abstraction, such as giving colours personalities/movements, is what separates us from goldfish. On the days when we are struck dumb, we are reduced to goldfish, in a sense.