Workout don't fake out - A Poetic Practice

Muscles tensed with exertion flowing through various movements the sweat beads down from all the motion within set variation, no time for contemplation.

Sure heavy with humid sweat and grit from all the dust blowing in through every wind blown breeze you gulp thinking you need each breath sinking.

Counting numbers in the head from one to fifteen without no other ideas floating in the brain left unseen because you're damned keen to get this workout all clean.

Never showing down because too scared to cool down and lose the momentum like a phantom stealing that energy you so lovingly cultivate in your inner sanctum.

The body is a temple you doing want to make it crumple with inactivity, it's that simple and you know this from all the example you take in reading that magazine sample.

Well stop the reading and get back to beating your body into submission as you're on a God given mission with no time to spare other than move to make the heart beating, now tired you're sleeping.

Drop in say hello.