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arbitrary vehicle
fiery red paint
fierce freedom
flying down the street
gasoline for blood
self-sustained mechanical life
fighting for a chance to go
yearning to cut loose
each precisely timed heartbeat an explosion
of life
:iconascendingjustice:

Author's Comments

When I was twelve, my dad bought me an old Honda motorbike. It was made in 1977, and it wouldn't start until after weeks of surgery... repair. We eventually got it to come to life... start and run. It quickly became its own reason for me to escape with it. Cruising the streets and feeling its roaring power. Quite the spiritual connection, if you believe in such a thing.

I sold it soon after I got my first car (which is still my only car ;P). This is a dedication.

Comments


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:iconocealic:
Dude you have a ton of talent with poetry, I just dont know how you do it.

PS. Im asleep

--
:skullbones: Killing is my Business and Business is Good.
:music::stereo::plug:
:iconascendingjustice:
Much appreciated, comrade. :icon1984plz:

--
Don't waste your time or time will waste you.

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June 25
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