Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Day Seven Hundred and Thirty Three

Day seven hundred and thirty three..

A gauntlet of dark Turkish hair flows
across a vast landscape of cracked flesh,
painted with a thick pattern of elevated
green veins..

The skin that encases this rich European mosaic
of flesh and Ottoman bones is damaged,
clearly struggling to clothe the four shards
of disfigured bone that mark its peak..

Years of chemically altered water and poor
maintenance have taken its toll on skin
that once painted a portrait of laziness and
a lack of work ethic..

Shards of lightning fast brain signals shoot
as a rotation is motioned, unveiling a shiny
plateau of rubber-like flesh that bulges,
vainly trying to alert the owner to damage
and a need to rest..

Four skeletal growths protrude from this
damaged mass of swollen flesh and burn marks,
each one more malnourished than the next,
sporting a vast array of tribal markings and
signs of distress..


Incase you are wondering..

Today i did three hundred and thirty pull-ups.


An it was NOT easy..

One of my brothers
has extremely old looking hands.

It gives the impression that in his
forty-odd years of wondering the globe he has experienced a lot in his lifetime,
so if mine appear a little damaged it's of no great concern to me anymore.

Wherever i go and whatever i do with
the rest of my life it will remind me of my
brother and how much he helped me.

Without him the transition from a portly twenty five year old..

To the man i am today..

May have never happened..

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