Motorbike

I can feel every grain of gravel

Swallowed up and spat out by my wheels

Chewed, crunched and sprayed out like fine dust

The wind propels me on

The fine dust licked up

Into a mighty storm

That hangs behind me

Like a faithful hound

We go on together

Down this endless road

Losing ourselves in speed

Wrestling with death

It only takes one lousy pothole

 

 

Author: Jack Bennett

Born and raised in Torquay, England. 21 years old. Teeming with thoughts that need an outlet, working a full time job at his local supermarket. Unfortunately born a poet, he will most likely suffer from this contradiction most of his life.

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