Writing Improvisations: Not Found

Hey all, I figure it’s high-time for another writing improv! The TL/DR is that I take a song and write to it until it’s over. I edit for typos/grammar but not content. Sometimes these are coherent, and sometimes they aren’t. I’m writing this first, so I don’t know where this one will fall under.

Song is called “Not Found” by, you guessed it, Thomas Rakowitz. Check his Soundcloud page out here.

Not Found

A walkway blooms inside my mind, and knowing I have nothing better to do, I decide to go and find the thing that’s got me down, the thing that won’t let me rest or love or just let go. It has to be something. It has to be somewhere.

The walkway is dark at first, four walls of black underneath the Earth. I look above, no lights around, and hear the sucking of roots and the hungry movements of worms. I descend. I descend. I descend.

And there in front of me, a pinprick of light, I realize that I have found that … no it’s a flight of stairs, made of stone, cracked with age and misplaced care. No one has ever been here before, or at least not in a long time, but this feeling of exploration only brings anxiety and the want to return to where I once was. Sometimes it’s better to be sad than afraid.

A door closes behind me, out of sight yet loud in the dark, and the lights grow brighter in this cellar marks the way to freedom. I descend. I descend.

The door in front of me is closed not locked, and it’s smaller than a thimble and opens at my thought. I shrink and shrink until I’m too small to climb those old stone steps, so all that’s left is to see what’s next. I can’t go back.

And downwards I go, wondering all the while, until I realize that there’s nothing to be found. Nothing at all.

I descend.

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