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Breathe deep, fill your lungs
expanding the chest to extend life
slowly release with lips tightly pursed
til the emptyness seems to make you gasp

eyes defocus as if emptyed of life
waiting for the next ******* in of air
when it comes they focus again
taking in the view over the vallys below

Legs give a tremour, muscles exhausted
knees requesting a seat to relieve the weight
hamstrings are tight, threatening to snap
tendons strained at the ankles, stretched just to far

and all you can think as you stand there
looking back from the direction that you came
and shaking your head unbelieving the pain
is why did I attempt to ride up this ****** hill
MetaVerse May 22

                                                                ­                                  a
                                                       ­                                     w 
                                                                ­                       a
                                        ­                                         &
                                                                ­          up            
                                        ­                            up        
                                                              up­                
                             up                                 
up                                                     
            ­down               
                                          down

Zywa May 14
I can't keep up with

him, he walks fast, his body --


is made for crutches.
Novel "Reddende engel" ("Saviour", 2017, Renate Dorrestein), chapter March 11th 19:15

Collection "Old sore"
Jesus' baby May 1
Work out—
Let your body speak:
Flesh stretching,
Fibers straining,
Blood pounding,
Mind alert.

There’s a list—
Push-ups, planks, presses—
Each one chasing the same prize:
Strength.
Discipline.
Endurance.

But one remains unsung,
Unseen in gym mirrors,
Unlisted in fitness charts,
Unshared across the globe.

It is the exercise of the unseen—
A sacred training:
Prayer.

Not whispered ritual,
But a fire-breathed posture—
Spirit clenched,
Soul bending,
Body bowed low.

This workout unbinds:
Spirit ignited,
Soul awakened,
Mind renewed—
A trembling reach
That brushes the robe of God.
Spirit meeting Spirit,
Deep calling unto deep.

They call it prayer.
But I—
I know it as sweat of the soul.

For while the body gains little,
The one who presses through to touch the Divine
Is changed.
Expanded.
Exalted.
Magnified.
The curves, the shape, round,
Every time I touch it, it blows my mind.
Both, fills my hand,
I hold and I squeeze, and I bend.

The long one I hold,
Up and down, I take, as told.
My nerves, now harder,
For other acts, I spread it broader.

My blood flow increases
My mind, endorphin releases.
It feels so hard,
go easy, I am just a new lad.

After all this, I feel exhausted,
My mind and heart, so relaxed.
My day doesn't end well,
As it has become a daily drill.

All that pressure,
is indeed a pleasure.
2 hours of pumping, held in my arms,
good for my biceps, triceps and forearms.

All this with my pair of dumbbells,
A few plates and with barbells.
Ending the act with sit ups,
and a few push ups.

By
Sanji-Paul Arvind
Traveler Jan 30
Footsteps grow stronger
when you leave your path and wander.
Sedentary is a lump of dying flesh..
Take that walk, get some fresh air.
You can clear the mind out there!
Or you can set there on your device,
until there’s nothing left..
Traveler 🧳 Tim
neth jones Dec 2024
well aren't you the gallowgas ?                                  
           you cram the funeral into fun
hiding in a private room    suckling at your sad self
whilst secretly hoping  to be found lonely
depressions' muppet
                            *****  like confession
and hungry like the wound
11/11/24
disclaimer ... this is a writing exercise to hate on my past self
from roughly between the age of 15 and 24
David Cunha Feb 2024
Vibrant despair blowing out like sand paper from the soul
Dreams of colour
Fearless hallucination of love
for the World

A stream of consciousness so pure and thick
like a raw gem
like a river
like a marching bull
Painfully fulfilling me full

I could run for miles if I had the Sea to sightsee
if I had the Sun gleaming on me
if I had your figure in memory
even if I had nothing and wasn't meant to be

A fuel that bursts my pupils into a huge void
serotonin
dopamine
adrenaline
and so
a rocket to the Moon and my hands on this keyboard
setting the stage for another round

I cannot be stopped, I can only be blunt
I can only do it
I can only run
Veins bulk in a steaming rush
and thus time disappears like a fog

I am lucky I am here
- David Cunha
february 10, 2024
5:16 a.m.
Sameen Shakya Nov 2023
Do not dress in those rags for me. In fact,
Take off your clothes, each article, and with it
Take out your soul, lay it bare on the table,
And I will read it with you. Let us discover
The entirety of what makes you human.
I want to know, top to bottom, just how you click.
What you say is only the table of contents.
I am willing and wanting to read each chapter,
Memorize paragraphs, mull over the words,
And decipher the metaphors. You are a novel
I will keep by my bedside after I read to sleep,
And grab at in the morning as soon as I wake,
Before I even brush my teeth. So take it off,
You have no need for decoration. You can be
Naked as the day you were born. My love
Is the only cover you’ll need, and it’ll keep you warm.
It won’t suffocate you, I swear!
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