Weighted Walls, White and Weary
By Andrea Cladis
Shadows silhouette the corner bench that waits.
Flickering light a halo down like the temptress who lost her gown
The halogen glow irritates eyes and skin patches, it discolors
Grit is all you need in the mind swarms of anticipation for
The first set to begin.
The aim for speed.
The force of sinewy strength.
Rest time is the enemy’s gain.
Run. Lift. Rush. Swell. Repeat.
Hours staring at the white wall lifting heavy
because a look into the mirror was too much
A reflection leads to narcissist’s sin.
Solitude captured in.
Ropes and hurls.
Stripped resistance curls.
Envision the enemy.
In competition –
Self is first
Ego is destiny.
Progress not yet known.
person of me.
White is not
Win is not
all but certain
The outside world is
Indulging in effortless ways.
I taste the freedom of walking away,
But the metal cylinders won’t let me,
The walls still call my name –
White and watching.
Wanting and winning.
Lifting up, lifting down, right, then left
in compulsion to win –
Vainglorious, the giant’s game.