Contentedness reveals so oddly. I’ve sought it in goals and beautiful women on pedestals. Rarely, I find golden emotion.
Now I drop my goals.
My dim room waits.
My tattered mirror frames my naked body. I find a blunt grin to settle myself. Music fills the space, music to match my chemistry.
Then begins movement. My face paints joy, sex and intensity onto my mirror. My body paints an awkward, loose strength.
My calves give a heavy burn, like revolting tools. This place belongs to them as well.
Sprint for the sprinting, not for the finish.