Long nights staring at these lonely walls, hoping for them to utter a word or phrase, while the music plays, but there was always a clear and present shame.
On the floor is a pad that leads directly to my soul. I pace back and forth but somehow my core is still connected with yours.
Distant but close,
as I sing notes,
making those words float.
My heart beats steadily but soft, like a whisper on a quiet night alone in the park. The fear of loneliness sets in, I’m afraid of the dark.
The universe should have aligned for us, and from dawn til’ dusk we’d share a lust.
Not just sensual and sexual but intellectual, the touch.
I envision these walls, holding the key to your trust, but so lonely an echo, the truth is too much.
It’s like this: All of this time I’ve spent thinking of ways to get people to get fit have come to an end.
If you are still caught up in an imaginary “movement” where nobody plays their position, invests in the cause or cares enough to take it seriously, your calls won’t be answered.
I swore up and down I could get people to take themselves seriously, but instead I got laughs and criticism from a bunch of hypocrite philosophers who don’t even follow their own philosophical beliefs.
Now I get loaded questions about my moves from these mindless clowns that lack ambition and integrity. They don’t believe in their own misguided decisions, so they feel compelled to question mine.
Let me be real for a minute, because I don’t flex like this often: Those four years of high school are over, you can’t get them back. So quit living for a past that you only dream about because it’s convenient.
Grown men make moves for today and tomorrow, never for yesterday.
So before you question another person’s integrity, question your own.