To Be Pressed By A Dumbbell
Two fifteen pound
     steely danse sing
     wrought iron dumbbells
     ill-tempered, impatiently,
     and intensely a weight
their turn to hmm... press me,
     and forthwith dense trait
heavy handed prestidigitation

     to yours truly, this primate
currently attempting
     to craft sad excuse
     for a poem, sans far fetched
     notion, aye trite re: late
engendering, foisting, and goading
     bizarre lifelike qualities
     to inanimate solid helpmate

to build (and/or oven
     just tone) muscles bitterly, painfully,
     resignedly wince, where washboard
     abdomen long a goner
     impossible to recoup,
     whar hide didst narrate
ting hours sculpting great
former Adonis build

     on these, now nada so lovely
     bones, and experience
     spiritual strife to oscillate,
     perhaps witness sing
     angst to esse skill late
heady feeling healthy vim within
     myself, how just
     with verily at least dedicate

half hour exercise can be great
for body, mind, and
     soul triage, otherwise...
     basic gravitational laws
     of physics gladly
     hand me unwanted fate,
how gradually physique
     will eventually demonstrate

flabby, droopy, and
     unwanted addy post tissue create
ting another reason to berate,
castigate, emasculate, where
     self repudiation will germinate
(albeit, thence in extremis), yours truly
     doth relinquish fitness regime
     resulting sparking, and taste

     testing casus belli dictate
tête-à-tête, viz hasty
     unconditional surrender to
     a void mortal kombat,
     which latter, would exterminate,
the forces of yin and yang,
     re: lee (I rub hurts) loch cur,
     thence finding me fraught,

     (yule hiss see - uselessly)
     grant ting soul
     option to disintegrate,
in the event emotional civil war,
rents asunder every fiber
     of mine being, which
    wrath wracked wraith self destruction
     twill woefully satiate.