Laces done up tight tightly wound. Ever winding. Putting one foot forward but never being able to take one back. Pounding pavements avoiding bollards and bravery.
Sleeping policemen the only patience before me. My sleep even needs policing. Running relieving pressure endorphins excreting to boost the bell weather of my mundanity.
Expelling the exertion needed to keep contending with my own discomfort long enough to distract me from contending the fact that the busy badges we wear as crests of honour are no more than nooses to hang us out to dry.