Sunday, 18 October 2015


We drove three hundred miles one night,
The roads were all just different shades of black
My mind at 70mph
Something about having my hands on the wheel paired
with feeling so out of control, feels like therapy to me
I'd felt it building in my throat for days. Some darkness,
like thick tar lodged in my windpipe
I wretched it all up that night,
there in my hands
out of my heart
I lay it down,
made sense of it
and carried on driving.

No comments:

Post a Comment