Heavy Beauty

Slightly above my desired temperature he set our room to boil me alive like a lobster a couch potato that I’ve become. He means well to make me go outside to motivate me. But he picked the wrong day, wrong month, wrong year to motivate me. I’m sweating perspiring (hard of breathing), why is it so hard with him? To do my meditating, where is he running off? Am I coming along? Dragging me like a sack of fat I’ve become. He means well. Today I’ll break it off as he never will hate to lose. No more motivating just ice cream and then I should go for a run.