april 16th

a poem about walking



once i stop thinking
about the tedium of the trudge
my legs just sort of keep going
a repeated simple duple ryhthm
my own internal slavemasters drum
my mind left free
wandering and wondering
never a good idea
cant think about walking
for fear of failing
the ephemera of the journy my solace
constantly reestimating
the percentage of my distance i have completed
in terms of distance
in term s of time
in terms of difficulty
constantly revising my eta
refactoring
overthinking
how much should i adjust for the steepness of this hill
lost in an abstract mathmatical world
my own sick ocd zen