bicycle

The wind's blowing your hair, ripping off of your shoulders all its heaviness. You go faster and faster and faster, without pushing the breaks; you don't ever want to stop. There's nothing around you, it's only you. There's only the road beneath your feet, and you're running through it all; you're running from everything else. All the chains are broken. You're not kept inside of four walls, there is no door to get through, there is no barrior. The gentleness in the air get down your inside, filling your lungs with life. The cold wind passes through your black leather jacket and your old jeans. Dried eyes, cold fingertips, fast heartbeats. You're able to feel the tenderness of the day embrace you. Your mind slips away, and your thoughts disappear, suddenly all you have is this moment of pure clarity. In all of this, I've found safety.