Word Block

 
Some days the game is played well and fair, but on others, there is only deception embedded in the strategies of the shifty words. They move into dark shadows and I am unable to read their plan. I am forced to play on their terms, by their rules.
 

It’s a cruel game when the spiteful words trick me, floating around the edges so that I am unable to find them in the center of my thoughts. They appear and then drift away gradually, just like those flyaway squiggles that randomly invade one’s peripheral vision. Where do they come from and where are they going when passing through my sight?


I grasp at the ephemeral shades. The words taunt me as they pass quickly through the outer lens of my thoughts, those audacious permutations not quite yet formed into solidity. The words treat me harshly, laughing as they flee from the momentary processes that brought them forward, echoing ridicule in their deliberate retreat.

 
There is a winner today in this troubling game of hide and seek. It is not I who will win the trophy, nor will I wear victory metals and bask in the shining halo of a hero’s valor. The game is done. The battle is lost. I see that I must fold my hand and toss my cards upon the green felt table, and I do so in disgust. The only redeeming thing left to do is snap my laptop shut!

 
I will live to write another day!