VIOLENT IS YOUR RIDE

I watch as you ride past fast, loud, hard. I see you on the roads tempting your own fate. The black bike an extension of yourself, the power you crave, the control you want. Straddling that big black bike - controlling her. The need for that power between your legs, feeling that pulse in your groin. Dressed in black, hard cold foreboding is your ride. Shifting thru time and space faster and faster, never reaching your destination. The chrome drawing attention, the helmet seemingly protecting you but it cannot protect you from your fears! Saddlebags filled with broken dreams and broken promises. The hard black boots keep you from experiencing your journey, never allowing you to feel the road on which you are travelling. Your bare feet never touching the hot pavement, the warm sand or the soft rain, they insulate you from your world. The roar of her engine quiets the screams in your head. Your ride is solitary, for speed does not allow for connection. Your relief is temporary as you are a human being needing to feel the pulse of another. For that short burst of adrenalin and speed you are and have everything you wish for. It is an illusion for when she is parked you can no longer get what you crave from her. She is once again cold and hard. She can never wrap her arms around you, caress your skin, lie next to you warm and real, breathing heavily in the softness of your neck. You can never be naked with her, exposed, vulnerable as her cold hard steel and your black leather protects the soft underbelly that you try and hide from the world and yourself. She can never feel your warmth, your kindness and the gentle soul she protects!