Stuck in the straddle and
about to jet.
The gate flings open and away I go. It is a battle between beast
and man to crown the merited champion. It swings its hind legs to the tempo of
violent techno. My legs clasp to its thighs as they begin to painfully
cramp. My hand melds on to the leather attachment belonging to the hot seat. My
neck follows its motions as I brush away whiplash like it were symptoms of a
mid-season cold.
A level of intensity, similar to that of young love in the midst of
its passionate blossom is found. Both minds battle each with their own artillery, remaining blinded to the reality existing beyond their measure of ability.
Arms are flailing, and
thoughts are fading and failing. The beast plays its fair part. Riding this four legged stallion until times end is a dream that
haunts my nights and occupies my days. My fall will eventually find itself within an act similar to a match of tug of war.
Like the twisted children's
song self describing the nature of its never ending lyrics... I shortly come
to, after being tossed in a ragdoll'esq manner towards the ground. Dreams are mangled once again by the ferocity of the beast's will. And to the battles to come; my wits sharpened and my courage hardened.
The target 8 seconds was hit
as I move on to the next round of human competitors, battling numbers on an irrelevant scoreboard.
Those who we
compete against get no recognition within their opponent’s arena. They exist to
measure our composure, as we dispute who will stand taller.
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