the wheel

The wheel is whirring, endless loops to distract from her surroundings

The surroundings? tall, thin bars are an inch wide at best yet she can’t fit. She can’t do it, she just can’t do it.

she can grip the bars tight, all the way to the top, across she can jump. she smacks her head before her body falls, all the way down, and thumps the ground.

she just can’t fucking do it.

exhausted from this stupid exercise of what her life is; again, she reluctantly returns to the wheel. The blue wheel. Why is it ALWAYS blue?!

Her feet rushing and incessant. If she runs just a little bit faster she can expel her energy. Her metabolism billowing from the sound of the wheel roaring and squealing. Maybe if she pushes a little more, it’ll change, maybe everything will stop. Maybe the energy will go away.

Again, no, it’s back to the wheel.

Even faster it continues humming until a small hope flashes across her senses. The smell of fresh watermelon to cheer her up, now she’s the one squealing as she snatches the rotten, crumbling flesh of the fruit falling between her fingers. Quickly, she chomps through each hydrating bite. Within seconds it’s gone, and she’s left alone.

Left again at the wheel.

That fucking wheel.