geasavenger

As I biked home in the torrenting rain, I was at peace. After being on my feet working for 10 hours, being not myself, but rather just a reflection of me that makes coffee, polishes silverware, and brings room service. The water pours down my face like the tears I felt inside all day for selling myself for money rather then what makes me happy. Here though every flash illuminates a glimpses of past. Reminding me of times when I lived off my bike and answered to no one. When I did what I wanted when i felt the inclination. Solidly soaked except for a bit of my chest over my heart. Cold wet rain pulsing over me, and hot pumping wet within me with only a thin layer between, that like happy moments in my life can only last for so long. In the moment I want to glide all night on my pedaled wings, and feel the nights wet kiss on my cheek. Then worries about my work shoes being wet for work all the next day. As the ache of my limbs is sullenly recalled. Instead of sol-journing to rediscover myself. I lock the heavy chain, and pass through the thin door. The thin layer between the wet out side and inside is compromised leaving me not sure what is me any more.