Writing and running – part two (I hate self-discipline)

Resorting to poetry, I can barely breath,

having captured an hour, to move less gently.

For this one I warmed down, but feel shaky legged,

insecure heartbeat, ice-cream pain, intense.

A talk about dogs, some nearly hit cars,

colder, but brighter, and still not too hard.

Building it slowly, but too fast for me,

phone slapping comfort, keeping a beat.

A rhythm, de-synced to ventricles furred,

ripping the filth that from torpor it learnt.

Inaction made steady, can easily seduce,

that part of me wanting, to without effort produce,

all that I hope for, with no courage put in.

A teacher once told me, I lacked self-discipline,

I still hate him.

 

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About Roy Smith

Roy Smith lives in the Medway Towns, where he works with young people and spends a lot of time writing nonsense and enjoying himself. Most of his writing happens at night and other inconvenient moments, when he is regularly interrupted by his dog and the desire to play old video games.

2 responses to “Writing and running – part two (I hate self-discipline)”

  1. Verity Keen says :

    A great ‘rhythmic’ piece… full of little cul de sacs to explore, looking for a way out you hit and kiss yourself simulaneously – V

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