Searched through the catalogue for a critique thread. Found nothing.
Standard fare; post something, rate something. I'll rate something in the morning, or maybe before bed, see you then.
Lights throb as painfully as the sun’s midday rays. Strobe lights cover the room in alternating shades of white whilst dark lights split the darkness into highlights of intense slashes of white, a paradox, so white. I walk in, the colour blue. People don’t often see me, the colour blue, in these clubs; blue is so close to black and white that I’m almost a mix; I’m taken for granted. I find a honey straight away because my muscles bulge through my size-too-small v-neck tee; it’s easy, too easy, always this easy. She rubs her buttocks against my crotch, causing me to pop one, but I suppress it enough for her to not notice. If I hadn’t she might’ve screamed indignantly, another paradox, but I need to keep my symptom hidden from these every-dayers. I can’t be noticed. A colour with feet is a scary sight, or if not that still mind-shattering, confusing. So, I let her arouse me and I suppress. I do this because I like the halting of the blessed release; my cock throbs enjoyably. Yes, colours have cocks, at least this one does.
This girl is a fraction my age; I am as old as the universe. This child asks me: “What yo’ name?”
“Blue.”
“Drew?”
“Yeah.”
She shuts up, thankfully, and keeps grinding on me. The song is something electronic and tribal; not blue, very upbeat. Blue is the colour of rain in people’s head; blue is the sound of crying, the taste of funerals.
“And your name?”
“I see my friend over there. See ya.”
And she leaves. This happens a lot. I don’t often get laid, and when I do I always slink away before dawn, get some food and wait for the train. Always. Like this for a long time, a loose screw in the machine, fucking up the machinations of a world without err. I am Blue, and alone.
The loose girl leaves and in front of me begins grinding on another lone man. This makes it harder for me to suppress my erection, but in this dark building it is not important to devote too much mindspace to hiding a blatant boner. I keep it down enough to find a different girl with more issues and less self-esteem. They might claim they’re sufficient; free of problems and doing this lifestyle because they like it, but underneath there is blue. Parent problems; a loser boyfriend; a dead relative, friend; some issues from childhood manifesting in this hopeless, dreamless lifestyle.
Maybe they only feel like this around me. The lights blare on, unaware of me, or anyone in this room. And on we dance and flirt, and exist. And I am Blue, in this room where everyone is running away from me; Blue in a room I can only exist in.