Exercise is waking up and feeling the muscles stretch out as the pulse comes making red of the blue lines deep under the shallow skin. Every day is a new day to succeed. It's also another opportunity to veer towards failure.
Failure, as the rumours go, is what makes the days of joy in triumph all the more sweeter. They say that, though they can never truly prove its worth as abysmal days rule over that of anything shining more than the light after a heavy down pour of defeat, sadness and pity.
With the right amount of motion, in standing up too quickly, a sense of reason starts to flood the mind, cloudy from the soup of the day. Something the chef conjures up with silt from the nearby anorexic water source and the juice of vermin.
Peace, at one side, is wanting. Peace on the other is impossible, lust is all that they care about and they lust that they care about requires spilling aplenty on the questionable nature of the soil.
Come to negotiate, or come to change the world. Either way, come with the right notion in mind lest it all be walking dead into the array.
Written on Wednesday, 10 January 2007