500 laps of the pool down,
the water warm and dead in my mouth.
Weights. 60, 70, 80 kilograms
Lift and drop
Lift and drop
ringing in my brain.
The constant thud of foot
on rubber, rolling
3 more kilometres
another thousand metres
rowing this sea of sweat and skin.
Just another 30 meaningless minutes on the bike.
Where am I going?
The ultimate self-defacement, mutilation.
Ever muscle burns, the salt stinging my eyes,
I’ll thunder on.
And all of this because
I can’t get you the fuck out of my head.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
I could just imagine the effort. ^_^ So is this before or after the liquor-cure? Kidding, kidding. *grin*
It’s been a while. Months, actually. Glad to see you’re still writing. Keep it up.
Cheers.
Thanks Soulless,
glad you’re back.
:] Haha. It’s always after, of course!