Tuesday, November 23, 2010

poem

So here i sit
gears are turn'n
smell of fuel
rubber burnin

Twitchin finger
perfect feeling
anxious throttle
spirit stealing

Men on men
dogs of big
1, 2, 3, on the box
.......ya dig?

Connection between
thoughts and wrist motion
make reality only notion
holy glory givin
when your racin -your livin.

1 comment:

NatE said...

Thats some smoth talkin. I like it.