#gym
He reracks weights carefully.
That's how attraction begins now.
At twenty, I wanted chaos.
Beautiful destructive men.
Human cigarettes.
Now I watch a man disinfect equipment thoroughly
and think:
yes.
protect me psychologically.
He is enormous.
Quiet.
Kind to staff.
The kind of man who says "drive safe"
and means it with his whole chest.
I see him every Thursday.
We nod at each other
like two emotionally complicated wolves
forced into administrative coexistence.
Once he asked:
"You using this machine?"
Reader,
I nearly proposed.
Not because he was handsome
though unfortunately he was
but because his voice sounded stable.
Do you understand how ****** stability becomes
after enough heartbreak?
Probably not.
Humans continue making terrible decisions professionally.
Last Thursday, he smiled at me.
Not the gym smile.
Not the polite nod.
Something slower.
I forgot how to use the leg press.
For ten seconds
I was twenty again —
terrified, hopeful,
completely unprepared.
Then he looked away.
The moment passed.
But now when I rerack my weights
I do it carefully.
Wondering
if he notices.
Wondering
if he also goes home
and thinks about drive safe
and means it.
We still don't talk.
That's the problem with stability.
It never makes the first move.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 8:27 AM UTC
I face the mirror,
Under harsh light,
I see my habits,
In black and white;
I want to change,
Not for the crowd,
Not for the looks,
Not for the loud;
I want to breathe,
Without a fight,
I want my body,
To feel alright;
One step today,
One step again,
A better future,
Built from pain.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 9:38 AM UTC
A woman walked into a clean, pristine,
On-Brand gym
And discovered a utopia of female energy
Patriarchally, off-brand
Confidence, wisdom and weights
Their bailiwick
These women
with pull-up power
And cockiness of pubescent boys
Illuminate the path to
The Age of enlightenment
for their young padawan.
The Age of Zero-fucks-given-HRT-tax-returns erudition
And wearing skin like comfy pyjamas
The padawan, having drunk from the Wise Ones’ fount
Is equipped to face the music
marching
to
her
own
beat
One step closer to
Awakening.
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 7:49 AM UTC
jim hurtz here at block fitness!
are you tired of feeling like a beta?
get your soft supple *** down here
and try fitness weight plate in your diet
instead of all those ******* donuts you pig!
hit the blam button! epxlosions!
you see that?! those could be your muscles!
you want muscles like me you gotta work *****
too hot in the kitchen? sleep in the fridge!
you don't even need your mom's permission
you basement dwelling ****
now get that greasy pig **** to the block,
start cramming this bar up it,
and pay meeeeeee!!!
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
there is a temple of iron and glass,
its doors gaping like a beast’s maw,
breathing in disciples,
spitting them out sculpted, shining, sure.
it hums in my ribs,
soft at first, then a roar, then a tremor that unroots me.
i do not enter.
instead, i map myself in the mirror,
fingertips skimming over fault lines,
skin stretched over the wreckage of someone else's war.
i am a house that has been broken into,
windows rattling at the memory of hands
that turned me into something hollow.
they say to run,
but my legs remember pursuit.
they say to lift,
but my shoulders recall the weight of silence.
they say to push, pull, press, forge myself into more —
but all i hear is
small, smaller, gone.
inside, the air is thick,
a storm of clashing metal and breath
from giants who have never learned to fear themselves.
but i am made of glass,
fractured and fogged,
a shape too fragile to shatter again.
they say strength is safety.
but strong was never safe.
strong was fists, voices raised, doors torn from hinges.
strong meant surviving,
but never stopping.
strong meant something was always coming.
strong was never mine.
so i walk past.
i keep my hands buried in the fabric of my sleeves,
let the night swallow me whole,
tell myself tomorrow.
tomorrow, maybe.
but tonight,
i let the ghosts win.
Mar 26, 2025
Mar 26, 2025 at 3:36 PM UTC
All I have to do is show up,
Gain momentum;
Give you one last rep,
Another verse
To finish this poem.
I have always dreaded
Doing the plank,
Now I can hold it
For a full minute,
Without tearing up.
Lift me up
Talent is not enough
Writing is a muscle,
I had become rusty —
Now planning my sessions in
The more I work out
The more I want to write.
Create,
Train hard
The benefits of a sweat
Back to the pleasure
of my pen,
I am looking forward
To my best poem yet.
Apr 24, 2024
Apr 24, 2024 at 1:39 PM UTC
Monday, Tuesday , Thursday and Friday,
Are the days I head out to run 2k.
Staying consistent has made me lean,
Discipline fuels me up like caffeine.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 8:57 PM UTC
Are we here dedicated to the grind & gains?
Or
Are we here dedicated to the pics & liked views?
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 11:49 PM UTC
My Boy just went through his girl phone & owweeeee he went from standing up to sitting on the floor….
I’ll see you at the gym my boy ✌🏾
Jun 5, 2023
Jun 5, 2023 at 1:50 AM UTC
The Greek warriors
Honed themselves
In the palaestra,
Acquiring
Sculpted physiques:
Idolized
By goddesses,
Envied
By lesser mortals
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 4:02 AM UTC
I just saw some idiot
Put a water bottle
In the pringles
Holder by the treadmill
In the gym.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 10:15 AM UTC
“Baby girl, you’re a tomboy”
“You need to look how I tell you to”
Youngest of five boys
Was supposed to be the baby girl
I never was
I’ve never been that
I told myself to fit the mold
There’s nothing wrong
There’s nothing wron
There’s nothing wr
...
Dysphoria kills
Hiding in the closet would be the cause of my death
I need to be me
But who am I?
My life has been spent shoving myself into a space never meant for me
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
You're the master
Not the disaster
Jump up, jump down through the net
You have your pupils get
To play good yet
I look at your cleats
You cast glances on the *****
I jump to spike fast
Your pure glances are cast
We have no time to rest
The marathon moves from past
Let's say love to the gym
Pleases us on the team
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 2:44 AM UTC
Sit at home and contemplate?
Or go to the gym and “get in shape”?
The choice was going to be hard and probably not very great.
But then a stranger made my day :)
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
Is there a goal plan for how many miles to run
Before I don't hate seeing myself naked?
Do the months I pay for a gym membership
Get cashed in for a few more nights of feeling worthy
than I normally have?
Is there a sports bra to hold in the cravings?
Or even just to do what its designed to.
I never really understood sports bras.
What diet do I need to go on
so that I can love myself again?
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 1:10 AM UTC
The flags interweave in a synchronous pace.
A pattern is formed and dissolves into space.
Kaleidoscope movement and the swish of a sabre.
What flows like dance is a pain and hard labor.
Glitter and make-up fluff and curls for the show.
But there's nothing soft about the rifles they throw.
The best part of the guard is not seen by the eye.
It's teamwork and sharing and daring to try.
When the show's over and the props put away.
There's always more practice and some time to play.
So just when you think the guard is all done.
Somewhere in a gym, they're still having fun.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
Can we strive
For health,
Without being broken by it?
Letting foundation
Camouflage our pores
Until we disappear
Under the weight of beauty.
Can we look
To better ourselves
Without being bested
By perfection?
I yearn for truth
In pursuit of wellness
Without the guilt
Of validation
Haunting us into iniquity
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
It’s all a lie. I work the words, speaking spastically in humorous verbs, and **** jokes. Strangers smile, and tender sweet laughter, which I love. So, I keep pushing the boundaries, working weird thoughts. They laugh more, which is what I work for.
Later when they are not looking, I look at them. I try to keep it less creepy than the other stalker type men, but I am studying them; Learning the limits of my understanding, sussing out the rhythms in which they speak and think. I try to devour their truths but hope they don’t see me struggling to see them.
I observe the hallway world. There is a man a foot shorter than me with a very wide waist, slightly longer white hair that gently curls at each end with small bald spot in the back, and the face of a cherub. Hands in his pocket he barely looks up but gives me a slight grin when I acknowledge him. Then his eyes return to the ground three steps ahead. He speaks softly and walks slowly. I know he is hiding something deep, but I do not try to see too far behind the surface, to the grander mind because people don’t appreciate that kind of trespassing. I wonder if his shyness is a product of years of rejection, abuse, or merely a reflection of a truly introverted disposition.
I am in a hurry, dropping off books at an out of town library, and picking up some poetry to devour later. She must be new, because she moves slowly. Then attempts to engage me in social pleasantries. I am trying not to pay any attention, and she is not super desperate, but she wants to speak and be heard. So, I really look at her.
Lengthy strands of brown thinning hair fall down her long skinny face, slightly obscuring a small growth under the left side of her cheek. Thin rim glasses look at me, as she talks about what she likes to read. Then shifts the discussion to the walking dead. She is passionate and despite my previous urge to escape, I am now sincerely engaged.
The gym is loud with ****** music and clinking equipment. She is stunning; Long wavy hair released after a hard workout. She is tanned, and thin but muscular, with a soft and generous voice. I ask her about her boys, and old man. She always appreciates that. We keep the chit chat short, so we can workout and get on with the day.
I stare back at a familiar but silent face, there is a building rage ready erupt, something deep and dark that is waiting to self-destruct. I do not like this person much. Dark hazel eyes pressure me, to seek something deep, short dark brown hair recedes but at a barely perceptibly rate. Teeth seem to be shrinking extremely slowly, except for the lost and already rotting ones. His body is losing fat. He is improving, but **** that. He should work harder.
I have little patience and compassion for this dumb doppelganger, but I still observe seeking something deeper, the darker unheard truths. I stare at him and snarl.
“I like them much more then you.”
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
A young dreamer was reborn.
Full of dreams and ambitions
flowed again in his blood,
through his veins;
to his soul.
The warmth, excitement, and macédoine of joy and eagerness to succeed
has eliminated all these bad spirits
that lingered so long;
on his earthly frame.
Oh God, how can he stop this bad habits of his,
If these are the only reason why he lives?
Are there any alternatives
Of this pig fats, pork chops, milk teas?
Help him to live a healthy life 'cause
It'll be hard for him.
I promise.
Hey, young dreamer. Chase your dreams. Make a history. Make it happen. Promise me?
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC
Muscles ache,
Exhaustion sets in
My head is in a bit of a spin
What is this Gym, where people partake?
I thought you said Gin for goodness sake!
Kettle bells, weight machines, deadman lifts
Grin and bare it, lift, lift, lift!
Treadmills, rowing machines, standing bikes
Keep going 30 secs on, 15 secs off is what we like!
Muscle men and woman showing their skills
Pushing heavy weights just for thrills
My Person Trainer is one of the best
Until it comes to putting me to the test
Then i dont like him very much
He keeps me going when i just want to give up
However he knows my goals
And i trust he will get me there
So for the moment i grin and bare
I will keep going to the Gym
And of course partake in the ocassional Gin :)
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
The religious chalking of the hands,
The tightening of the thick nylon straps,
Headphones are placed and primed,
Now time begins to lapse.
His mind's eye recites what now must be completed,
Claiming a bench, he sits, he waits, he breathes,
He grasps the ice cold steel and tightens his grip,
Lifting, striving for ten, he pushes, he believes.
The loud clink clinking of solid metal plates,
The sound of great efforts fill the room,
Sweat and tears begin to flow,
Working hard the muscles engage and begin to bloom.
Set after set he keeps pushing forward,
Digging deep into his soul for his much-needed strength,
Tunnel-visioned now as he drives and drives,
Working for that last rep, his arms raising, still at full length.
An hour or more passes and the session draws to a close,
Crunching his abs, he works as the pain stabs into him like a knife,
He knows it's doing him good, it's his mindfulness, it's his time,
He will be back tomorrow for another round because after all, training is life.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC