Nothing gets cold blood boiling
Like the feeling of hating eyes,
Judging and mocking every
Movement.
Their obvious desire
For your failure rings in the
Convolutions of your aching brain,
Slow, timeless waves of thought.
Motivation? Maybe.
More of an irritation than anything else.
And when you step on the block,
Tight latex shielding your anxious
Body, fogged goggles shoved
Into the sockets of your eyes,
The people around you know-
The ghostly joints and
Hyperextended knees,
Gives away the hidden distain,
Knowing the real competition
Is my battling mind