solace temporary; torture temporary

bits and pieces of raggedy bone
that is the slimming of my patience
reading other poets online to be inspired
as I am exasperated, weight gain and the logic of dieting
it infuriates me; not due to non-participation, I need exercise
yet a lush-and vivid life too; to call my own
this ennui blinks and I am tundra or desert or something of barking sap
madness of impatience winning, I am no race winner. I came second place once
in Year 2, Class 2, I have the silver, white ribboned medallion. I loved running and still do
I love feeling the orbit of the earth on my soles: I have to learn to romanticise treadmills
as sexist bitches and sexist tropes don’t allow me the run I need to feel the axis of my heels
know the axis of the planet. I so want to be a projectile, yet they narrow me to mechanics
objectification of body fitness. I am just angry. Why can’t things be my way for once? God,
why do I always beg? Please give me something as you recently did. I need this. I need to run
in open spaces. For now, only for now, I will also do this liminal walking. Only because I love running
but this is a compromise temporary. I will weave my wings back somehow — God, you have to let me.▬

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