by November 27, 2017 0 comments

I grow weak with comforts in this life
A heater means I no longer need my laptop on to stay warm in the winter months
And too many chocolate treats mean my waistline expands
So now I’ve got to cut it all out
Get back some vigour by doing something visceral
More real than sitting at home stuffing chocolate into my big fat mouth
I grow sick because of this life of comfort
And sadly all it means is I get softer and softer

editors note:

Reason to be thankful? Loaded with the tankful, nowhere to go. – mh clay

Leave a Reply